Page 64 of The Musician and the Monster

The question hung frozen in the air between him. Drystan stiffened as his eyes flew wide, his heart lurching against his ribs.

“I’ll come to the manor in the morning.” Her gaze flitted away before landing back on him. “We’ll talk. If that’s okay with you,” she hurried on.

“Ceridwen.” Warmth tingled through him, as if she’d lit a candle in his chest on that dark night.

“That’s all I can promise for now.” She pulled her hand from his. “You’ll see me again,” she said with a weak smile before she turned, rushed up the short steps, and entered the house.

It wasn’t the easy agreement he’d prayed for, but it was a chance, a hope—so much more than he truly deserved.

Chapter 29

Ceridwen

Ceridwen and Bronwyn stood at the imposing manor gates in the morning sunlight. The day had dawned crisp and clean. A fresh layer of white powder covered the ground, which they’d disturbed on their short trek. A few gray birds scratched at the snow on the other side of the gate, trying to get at the ground below.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Bronwyn asked, looking over at her sister.

Telling Drystan goodbye would have been easier. It would hurt. It might cut out a part of her heart that would never grow back. But facing down his monster, his darkness? That could crush her even more. Her family could still use the money, though, especially since Adair’s foolishness could cost his job. And she needed…something. A sense of life and passion she’d lost somewhere along the way. Gwen said she made Drystan more like the young man he used to be, and perhaps he did the same for her, too, in a way.

Was she sure?No.But she’d regret it forever if she didn’t come. That much she knew. “He’s coming now.” Ceridwen tilted her head to the approaching butler, avoiding her sister’s question.

Jackoby, dressed in a jacket of navy blue and silver, strode through the yard in more haste than usual, walking down a path from the manor doors to the gate where the snow had been scraped away in preparation for visitors.

“Miss Ceridwen,” Jackoby announced as he reached for the key always secured inside his jacket. The barest hint of a smile pulled at his lips. “We are quite pleased by your return.”

“We’ll both be coming in.” Ceridwen motioned between Bronwyn and herself. If she returned to Drystan’s employ, it would be on her terms.

She expected an argument or a stern reminder that Lord Winterbourne did not allow guests. Instead, Jackoby nodded and swung the gate wide to permit them entry. “Very well. I’ll see you both to Lord Winterbourne’s study.”

Ceridwen blinked, dumbfounded. Since before dawn, she’d practiced her argument to permit Bronwyn entry as well, yet she didn’t need it. One hurdle crossed without a fight.

Without another word, they entered the gate and waited for Jackoby to lock it behind them before following him inside. The manor reminded Ceridwen of how it had been on her first visit. Clean. Ornate. Dark. But most of all, quiet. Lifeless.

Somehow, she expected it to be as she’d left it, but the spark of life she’d found and nurtured within these walls had vanished in her short absence. Ceridwen searched every hall and doorway they passed for signs of the people she knew, yet they came across no one. Not until they reached the study.

Jackoby rapped three times on the door before a muffled confirmation sounded within. A knot twisted in her stomach. Her throat grew tight. Ceridwen hadn’t been nervous…until now. Suddenly, she wanted to run, but she’d come this far.

Her choice slipped away when the door opened.

The curtains were drawn, as they nearly always were, leaving the room shrouded in darkness pocketed by flickering oil lamps spaced around to provide light. This room remained much how she remembered it, with its smattering of fine furnishings, shelves with assorted books and items, a mammoth writing desk, and more space than anyone truly needed in a study.

“Missed me already?” Malik reclined in a cushioned armchair like a reckless boy, his legs thrown over one armrest and his back propped against the other.

Bronwyn froze, her lips drawing into a thin line. Ceridwen winced, feeling the tension in the room press tight around her.

“Malik…” Drystan sat near him, two glasses of dark liquid on the low table between them.

“Ah, right. I promised you some privacy.” He rose in one fluid movement, stretching his arms over his head as he crossed the distance to the sisters. “You’re welcome to visit any time,” he said to Bronwyn. “Even if this one says no.” He hiked a thumb at Drystan before departing with Jackoby.

Everything Ceridwen planned to say fled her mind as soon as the door clicked shut. The room grew smaller, despite its impressive size, and for all the world, she couldn’t make her legs cross the room to the seating area that he occupied. Drystan’s gaze had not left her from the moment she entered the room. Nor now, as he rose and relocated the glasses near a silver pitcher on a far table.

Bronwyn coughed lightly into her hand. The sound brought Ceridwen back to the moment. Bronwyn stared at her, brows raised.

We’re here for a reason, right?She could almost hear her sister’s silent words.

When Ceridwen still didn’t make a sound, Bronwyn spoke up. “Our apologies for our brother’s actions last night, Lord Winterbourne. He can be quite troublesome.”

Understatement.

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