Page 54 of The Musician and the Monster

On the third day since her return home, Bronwyn dragged Ceridwen from the kitchen where she gathered scraps to take out to the animals.

“You’re not going to believe this,” she insisted while pulling her through the hallway decorated with faded and peeling wallpaper.

“What? What is it?” Ceridwen asked for the third time.

She didn’t answer. Bronwyn’s silence held more terror than any words she could speak.

As they came into the front room, Ceridwen realized the reason for her silence. It stripped the words from her thoughts as well.

Jackoby stood just inside the front door near a heap of chests and smaller items that someone had brought in. Father was with him and had opened the largest chest. Within lay layers and piles of luxurious fabrics in colors and patterns she wouldn’t soon forget. Her dresses. The ones Drystan had commissioned.

Tears pricked her eyes at the sight of the small, long box in Jackoby’s arms. Her flute. They’d yet to order a new one—not that she’d even considered playing since her return. Leaving Drystan had crushed her will to play, even for her mother.

“Lord Winterbourne asked that these be brought for you since you accidentally left them behind in your departure.”

Ceridwen barely heard his careful words as she searched for any hint of a deeper meaning in his face. As usual, Jackoby gave little away.

“He also sent this for you as well.” Jackoby lifted the sealed envelope in his hand for emphasis. With the other treasures he’d brought, she hadn’t noticed the thick paper with a rose stamped upon its closure in crimson wax.

Ceridwen took the letter and her flute case with shaking hands. “Thank you.” It meant more than he could ever know.

He nodded. “I will pass along your appreciation to Lord Winterbourne.” Then his face softened, showing something resembling friendly concern. “Please read the letter and consider it. Not just for him, for all of us.”

The words struck deep in her chest. She hadn’t just left Drystan. She’d left them all.

“I will.” She could promise that much.

Jackoby left a final sack of gold coins with her father—payment for services rendered, plus extra. So much more than she deserved. After his departure, Bronwyn and Ceridwen relocated the chests of clothing to her room.

“This will be perfect for the winter ball,” Bronwyn said, airing out the blue dress she’d worn to honor the first snow—the same night she’d witnessed Drystan’s attack. She hadn’t known then about the monster lurking beneath the surface. Looking back, she should have, but she never considered it possible that a man could become such a beast. Especially not Drystan.

“You’re going to go, aren’t you?” Bronwyn asked.

Honestly, she hadn’t realized the ball would be held so soon. Within the manor, one day seemed much like the next, and the ball wasn’t even a consideration while she’d lived there.

From the corner of her eye, Ceridwen saw her sister lay the dress over a cushioned chair before coming to sit next to her on the bed. She took Ceridwen’s hands in hers. “You haven’t heard a word of what I’ve said, have you?”

“I’m sorry. I have a lot on my mind.” Ceridwen flashed a weak smile.

“Are you going to open it?” Bronwyn nodded toward the envelope on the side table, the object that had held Ceridwen’s almost full attention since Jackoby had placed it into her hands.

A deep sigh slipped from her lips. “There’s something I haven’t told you. Several things, actually, but one important one. The real reason I ran.”

“It wasn’t because of the monster in the manor?” she asked.

“It was, but there’s more than that.” She licked her lips, hesitating before sharing the next bit. “If I tell you, it can never leave this room. Promise me.”

She raised her free hand in front of her. “By the Goddess and the sanctity of the old oak we played under as girls, I solemnly promise not to tell.” Their greatest promise and vow of sisterhood.

Satisfied, Ceridwen began. “He wasn’t the lazy vagabond of a lord we suspected him to be when he came here. He seemed that way at first, even within his home, but thensomething changed. He softened somehow. Even cleaned himself up. Underneath it all, he was kind. Charming. A handsome young lord.”

“You liked him,” she said.

Her heart twisted. “I did, and I believe he cared for me too. And how wonderful it was to play for him. He made music come alive in my heart again.”

“Oh, Ceridwen…”

That was the easy admission. The harder one came now. “I accused him of being a lazy lord and not caring about his people being terrorized by the monster in their midst. That’s when he told me that he worked every night to keep the monster at bay.” She shook her head, recalling their time together. “I heard it sometimes while I stayed there. Always at night. But not once did I see it. Not until that last day.”

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