Page 32 of The Musician and the Monster

She pursed her lips. No one had been around when she returned to her room, and if they aided him with his illness, as Jackoby had gone to do, they would not have heard her music anyway. Something was missing again, but she let it drop—for now.

“If I’m to play, I’d like to do it under the stars, on the balcony.” Far too many days had passed since she’d played under the sky for her mother, and while she hoped she heard, and she occasionally felt the tickle of someone watching, even when she played alone in her room, she longed to resume her nightly ritual.

Drystan sat up straighter, his brows rising with him. “It’s cold out tonight.”

“I know.” It had snowed more that evening, and much of it likely clung to the balcony. But her desire to play outside outweighed her need for comfort. “It’s important to me. Please.”

“I do owe you quite a bit. But would you tell me why?”

The mere thought of sharing more about her mother brought the prick of tears to the corner of her eyes, but she hastily blinked them away. “I play for my mother, so that her spirit can still hear my songs from the halls of the Goddess. It sounds silly,” she continued, rambling away in nervousness. “But sometimes I can almost feel her watching, and it gives me peace to know she listens, even if she’s no longer on this plane with us.”

When silence hung again, her gaze trailed up from the ground, climbing Drystan’s body until it landed on his somber face.

“You miss her.”

“Very much.”

He nodded and looked toward the balcony. “Then I’ll leave the balcony door unlocked and you can play for me here when the weather allows,” he said. “But please, stay inside at night unless I’m with you.”

Because of the monster.He didn’t need to say it for her to understand the concern. Even the manor wasn’t safe at night. She’d heard the beast’s cries shortly after coming to the manor, so close that she’d expected to see it on the other side of the windows. A shiver, one not born of cold, racked her body.

“Thank you, I will be careful.”

He rose and stretched his arms above his head. “First, we’ll have to move some of these candles.”

Joy bubbled up within her. “Oh, I’ll—” She made to kneel, but he grabbed her wrist.

“Let me.”

His gloved thumb rubbed over her skin, sending a shiver down her spine. He held her gaze, far closer than she realized. A gentle smile spread across his face. “You cannot play with burned hands.”

Chapter 15

Drystan

She honored her mother with her song. No wonder Ceridwen was so eager and insistent on playing outside. Drystan wasn’t entirely convinced that the spirits of those who passed could hear a thing from the Goddess’s hallowed halls, but if it gave Ceridwen comfort and kept her at his side longer, it might be worth the risk—as long as she didn’t go out at night without him.

That, he must insist on. It was a risk, given her penchant for snooping, and though he somewhat admired her tenacity, it put her at greater risk than she knew. Him too. Though, if she did learn anything of importance, hopefully he’d be well on his way to the capital before she left the manor and had time to spread such gossip.

At the moment, he was far less worried about that than her trying to flee or locking herself in her room in the wake of his fit. He’d tried too hard the last few nights, a vain attempt to make up time spent with her during the day. He pushed himself, and such a simple thing nearly caused a break in front of her. If it had happened, he’d have lost her for sure, and that he couldn’t bear.

One by one, he moved the candles away from the balcony entrance until only a splattering of cooled wax guarded the threshold to one of the double doors. Ceridwen had traded her slippers for boots, grabbed an extra shawl, and retrieved her flute while he worked.

He slipped his hand into a pocket and pulled forth a brass key.

Ceridwen raised her brows at him. “You just happened to have a key to my room in your pocket?”

He grinned, and for a moment, he forgot what she’d asked, lost in the sight of the slight disapproving scowl on her features. Why such a look should give him such pleasure, he couldn’t decide. Finally, he said, “It opens all the locks in the manor.”

“Oh.” She appraised the key with renewed interest, probably considering all the trouble she could get herself into with such a thing. She’d use it if she could, of that he had no doubt.

Drystan returned the key to its resting place within the pocket of his pants. “You know where to find it if you’re brave enough to get it.”

A soft gasp slipped from her lips as she looked away. He barely restrained the chuckle trying to break free.

Flurries blew into the room on a crisp burst of air as he pulled the glass door inward. Their boots crunched on the thin layer of soft powder as they strode onto the balcony. The cold didn’t bother him much. In some ways, it was almost as comforting as Ceridwen’s music. The sharp sting of a cold wind against his skin had often kept his inner turmoil in check.

Stars twinkled like little candles in the clear sky overhead, accompanied by the blue globe of the moon that lit the balcony and the manor. Puffs of smoke drifted away from Ceridwen’s mouth with each breath, but she seemed undeterred. Instead, her face shone with unguarded pleasure in a way that made his lower abdomen clench. Even so, he’d have to insist she stop after a song or two. It wouldn’t do for her to catch a cold.

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