Page 72 of The Musician and the Monster

“That’s the name you know, but everyone has more than one name. I think it will explain a great deal.”

She sucked in a breath as he leaned in, his cheek nearly grazing hers.

His breath tickled her skin as he whispered, “Alistair Malikant Ithael.”

He didn’t give his title. He didn’t need to.

Everyone knew the name of the prince of Castamar.

Chapter 33

Drystan

Ceridwen said little at dinner, uncharacteristically distracted by something he couldn’t place. Jackoby had informed Drystan that she’d left abruptly that afternoon to visit her family for tea, something she generally apprised him of in advance but hadn’t mentioned during their time together the day before.

Perhaps he’d been too eager in his affections, too hopeful to reignite that spark of something that had blossomed between them before she’d discovered his secret. He wouldn’t put it past the Goddess to taunt him by putting the only woman he desired so close, an unscalable wall wedged between them at the same time. He deserved no less, in truth.

Drystan had ventured questions about her family and if anything was amiss, but Ceridwen perked up at that, saying that they were quite well and that her father actually seemed to be as strong as he’d been in years. She’d even poured out her gratitude for the money he provided, which allowed for her father’s medicine. Yet even in the line of that good news, her edginess remained. Perhaps it had something to do with her brother and his deployment, though they’d talked of that too, and it hadn’t appeared to affect her mood one way or the other.

Malik did not join them for dinner either, as he had most nights since Ceridwen’s return to the manor. In fact, he’d been curiously absent all afternoon, though Jackoby couldn’t account for him leaving and venturing into the city.

Drystan mused over that quandary as Ceridwen played for him in his study after dinner. Could their behavior be connected? Had Malik dared to try something with her? But Ceridwen’s behavior was much different than after Malik’s unfortunate arrival and the incident that occurred between them. Then, she’d been scared and flustered. Now, she had a determined set to her shoulders, a fervor to her music.

Every night she poured her heart and soul into her music, bringing the sounds alive in a way that moved him deep within and even calmed his monstrous side. Tonight, however,she added a little something extra. When she finished her song and lowered the flute, her chest rose and fell. A hint of perspiration clung to her brow. Drystan fought the urge to rise to his feet and respond with thunderous applause. Instead, as she pried open her eyes once more, breathing hard, he gave a slow, appreciative clap.

“Lovely,” he said, meeting her gaze. A smile pulled at her lips, matching his own. How anyone could not marvel at her music, he would never understand. “I wish I could listen longer, but I need to work a complicated spell tonight.”

He was so close, more than he dare say, to completing the Gray Blade, and the power of her music tonight might be enough to keep his beast in submission. It lay down within him like a tame dog for her, content to be stroked into a restful state by each line of her song.

“For your project?” she asked, giving him a meaningful look as she placed her flute back in its case.

“Just so.” He rose and crossed to the large windows. He’d left the curtains open this evening, letting in the dim rays of moonlight filtering between clouds. “You should stay in your room once you leave here tonight. And tomorrow…” He turned to Ceridwen as she rose to join him near the window. “Don’t come looking for me if I don’t leave the tower.”

If the worst happened, if the music wasn’t enough, he wouldn’t have her in harm’s way again.

Her eyes filled with concern as she stared up at him. “What if you don’t change back? Or if someone in the city gets hurt?”

“Then it’ll be one more horrible mark on my conscience.” Without thinking, he caressed her face with the back of his hand. He’d swear she shivered as he jerked his hand away with a silent reprimand to himself, but she did not flee.

“Perhaps Malik can help you?” she asked.

Drystan huffed air through his nose. “He wouldn’t help me. Especially not if he knew what I work on.”

“Then let me play for you while you work the spell.”

“No,” he snapped, every muscle in his body going rigid. “It’s too risky. You saw what I can become firsthand. If you were there and something happened—”

She cut off his words with a finger over his lips, and he nearly forgot how to breathe. “I know the risks.” Her other hand grazed over the stubble on his cheek, sending a tremor under his skin. “Let me help you. Please.”

The simple touch threatened to wreck him. Drystan held absolutely still, terrified of ruining the moment. “You do. More than you know. More than I could have hoped after all that happened between us.”

Impossibly, she stepped closer, leaving barely any space between them. She grazed his chin with her fingertips, tracing the lines of an old scar down his jawline. The subtle scent clinging to her was more intoxicating than any wine, muddling his senses until his thoughts slipped free.

“Will you ever be able to see me as a man and not a monster?”

She leaned in, her bosom brushing his shirt, and he dared place a hand on her hip, cradling her close, savoring the closeness he believed long gone. The wait for her reply was agonizing, even more than the gentle glide of her pink tongue over her lip as she stared at him.

“I see only you.”

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