Page 36 of The Musician and the Monster

Fury simmered under her skin, and she could no longer sit still. Ceridwen rose to her feet, sending the chair back with a clatter as she moved away from the male at her side. “Do not dare call me such a thing.”

His hand dropped as his grin widened. “I thought not.”

“What’s going on here?”

Drystan. Thank the Goddess.He hustled into the room, Kent quick on his heels and looking even more disheveled than before. Jackoby, too, appeared unnerved where he stood a few paces from the door, his shoulders even stiffer and more squared than normal, as if a cord from the ceiling pulled him upward.

“Ah, dear cousin,” the man said with a flourish of his hand. But Drystan’s scowl only deepened despite the familiarity of the man’s words. “I was just meeting this lovely lady that you failed to ever mention to me. Who is she?”

Drystan’s gaze flicked to her, cold and impassive, before returning to his cousin. “Just a local girl who plays music. Nothing to get excited over.”

The words hit like a blow to the stomach. It took everything she had not to hunch in phantom pain as they worked their way into her heart like small daggers.Nothing to getexcited over.Memories of the night before flashed through her mind. His kind words. His kiss. All felt foul and dirty to her now.

Her gaze fell to the place setting in front of her chair, the only safe place to look as tears threatened to fill her eyes.What a fool I’ve been to think we could be anything more.

Chapter 17

Drystan

Saying the words, calling Ceridwen nothing special, was painful. Seeing the immediate effect they had on her was so much worse. He’d rather cut his hands and bleed himself a hundred times than hurt her that way, but nothing good could come of Malik realizing his true feelings for her. In fact, nothing good could come of Malik’s visit at all, but it was too late to avoid that.

The arrogant bastard hadn’t even sent word that he would come. Perhaps he should have expected it. It wasn’t Malik’s first visit, after all, but this close to midwinter, to his return, he thought himself safe from interference from the capital.

Should have known better.Letting his guard down was a fool’s error. Drystan had little doubt who sent his cousin up for a visit, and he knew exactly to whom Malik would be whispering whatever he learned during his visit upon his return—the king.

“She’s quite attractive for a commoner,” Malik said, his smirk fixed firmly in place as he admired Ceridwen with far too much interest.

He couldn’t have Malik speaking to the king about her. If he had any idea that she meant more to him than just some hired help, the king would find a way to use her against him, another tool to keep him in check. Worse—it would put her in more danger.

Drystan shrugged, trying to appear unfazed by Malik’s appraisal of Ceridwen as he crossed to the table with casual grace. “Are you planning to join us for dinner?” Drystan asked, ignoring the plaintive look Ceridwen aimed his way. “There should be plenty of food.”

If only he could tell her exactly what transpired, but there was no method of it. Malik had caught him unprepared, and he’d had no time to warn Ceridwen of possible visitors and what such a visit might mean for him, or for her.

“Perhaps.” Malik straightened a serving utensil set near a platter of food. “Though I’ve developed a craving for something else.” His gaze drifted to Ceridwen, his smirk broadening in a way that had Drystan seething within.

At the side of the room, Kent took two steps forward, but Jackoby grabbed his sleeve, holding him back. He admired the young man and his eagerness to rise to Ceridwen’s defense, but he should know better than to interfere where Malik was considered. His cousin was a pest that only he could deal with.

Drystan rolled his eyes and cut his cousin a hard look. “She’s my guest, not your entertainment for the night.”

“Ah, but that’s the thing. You never have guests.” Malik rounded Ceridwen’s chair until he stood just behind her. She stiffened, going absolutely still as Malik placed his hands on the edges of the back of the seat.

“Have a seat, pet,” Malik crooned, leaning in so close to Ceridwen that his lips might have brushed her hair.

Drystan bristled, his teeth grinding together.

Silently, she raised her chin and stared across the table at him—begged him for help. Drystan inclined his head ever so slightly. If she followed Malik’s command, maybe he’d leave her alone.

Ceridwen tightened her hands into fists at her side, but she sat.

“An obedient little thing,” Malik remarked. “Curious that she’s here with you. No family present. No others either. It’s quite…” His palm slipped from the chair to land on Ceridwen’s shoulder, causing her to jolt in her seat. “Intimate,” he punctuated each syllable of the word.

Fury coursed through his veins, but Drystan fought it down. “I told you—she’s just my musician. Leave her be.”

Malik released his grip, and the act let Drystan suck in a much-needed breath. But Malik didn’t fully retreat and stepped to the side of the chair as he rubbed his chin and continued to appraise Ceridwen. “She is a lovely little bird. Too lovely to be trapped in such a dreary place with such limited company. Does he make you sing for him all day, little pet?”

The careful expression on Ceridwen’s face broke into something almost like a snarl as she snapped her head to the side to stare at Malik. “No. And I am not your pet, nor anyone’s.”

Good girl.Pride sparked in him at her fight, her fury.

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