Page 74 of The Musician and the Monster

He swallowed the tightness in his throat. The moment she’d said that name, his eyes had flown open, and he’d seen the conviction in hers. The name, his old name, hadn’t been a random question. It was a test, and his reaction already gave away the answer.

“How did you figure it out? I was so careful…” He’d had to be—for years. Outside his staff, the king, and a few of those in the king’s central sphere, no one knew that he still lived. Despite the nagging worry that lingered at the back of his mind, he was almost certain the staff hadn’t given him away. They’d been loyal long before his fall—handpicked from only those he knew he could trust to keep his secrets. People loyal to him, to his parents, not to the wicked king now reigning from his stolen throne.

Ceridwen shifted her position, nearly making him groan in pleasure as she slid in his lap, before she responded. “Malik told me his true identity.”

Drystan bucked in surprise. “That bastard. I’ll—”

She silenced him with a finger over his mouth again. “Don’t. I don’t think he was trying to get you in trouble or even reveal your secret. It was just one puzzle piece, but it helped all the others to fit together.”

Drystan’s lips thinned. As if that bastard wouldn’t want to ruin him one way or another.

Ceridwen continued, “You keep everyone away from the manor and don’t show your face in town. Even at the ball, you never removed your mask. No one knows anything about Drystan Winterbourne. It makes sense if that’s because you’re trying to hide who you really are. Even Malik’s visits make a certain sense.”

He rubbed a path up and down her side with his thumb, the soothing motion helping him remain calm amid her revelations.

“It would cause problems in the capital if anyone found out the dark prince was still alive after his execution,” she said. “That’s why he comes to visit and to watch you, isn’t it?”

So easily she figured him out. Drystan’s gaze hooded as he stared at her in admiration. If he didn’t already love her for her kindness, music, and beauty, he would have fallen headlong in that moment over her mind. “Have I ever told you how clever you are?”

“No,” she huffed. “I don’t believe you have.”

“An oversight on my part. One I won’t make again.” He slid her closer to him, causing the fabric of her dress to further bunch between them. Ceridwen squirmed atop him, unknowingly, or even perhaps knowingly rubbing against his stiff cock through his breeches. Drystan didn’t bother to muffle his groan of desire.

He released one hand from her hip to twirl a strand of golden hair near her face.So lovely.If he could focus on her, it might give him the strength to confess all, but there was one thing he needed to make sure she knew straight away.

“It’s true, what you’ve said. But I didn’t kill my parents.” His throat tightened up again as his shoulders hunched. Years had gone by, but speaking of them still threatened to crush him. “You have to believe me. I loved them. I would never have wished them harm.”

“I do. The man I know wouldn’t do such a thing,” she said. “But who did?”

He sighed and slumped forward until his forehead pressed against hers. “The king.”

Ceridwen stiffened, as he expected she might, so he snuggled her closer, clung to her like an anchor in turbulent seas.

“The man said to have helped purge the darkness destroyed the light instead,” she whispered, a slight tremor running through her.

“I wasn’t entirely innocent in the matter, though,” Drystan confessed, drawing back ever so slightly until their faces were only inches apart.

Ceridwen fisted her hands in his shirt, as if perhaps he was her anchor as well.

“My uncle introduced me to dark magic.”

She gasped. “But why do it?”

“I didn’t know what it was, not really. I was an ignorant boy back then.” Such a foolish young man, consumed with the pleasures of life and missing every warning sign. “He presented it as a way to obtain power and help my family. So, like the fool I was, I believed him.” He shook his head. “He left out the side effects, of course, not telling me the cravings that dark magic bred, that I’d become a monster. There was always a temptation toward the dark, even for those of us who practice light magic. Almost like a faint itch just waiting to be scratched. But it was so dull I never noticed it, not until my uncle pointed it out. And that craving only grew. The more I touched darkness, the more I wanted it.”

“He trained me himself, in secret. I relished in the power at first. It hit me like a high, so much stronger than booze or parties. Soon, it consumed me until I started to black out, to lose time. I didn’t know then that I became a monster.” Sadness settled on him like a heavy weight, and he drew quiet.

“What happened with your parents?” Ceridwen asked.

A sad smile crept to his face as he leaned back into the chair.

Ceridwen followed him, closing the distance he created.

This time, he smiled genuinely. “It’s hard to talk with you like this.”

“I’m not moving until you finish,” she replied.

He ran a hand through a fall of her blond hair, which had slipped over one shoulder, swirling it around his fingers again. “Then I may talk all night. I just wish it were a happier topic.”

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