Page 77 of The Musician and the Monster

“Go!”

Their eyes locked across the room. The monster made its final push. Drystan groaned as his limbs began to shift and warp. “Please!” he cried.

This time, she listened. His vision blurred as the monster took over, and the last thing he saw was the pale color of her dress as she fled down the stairs.

Chapter 36

Ceridwen

Ceridwen nearly slipped twice on the steep stone steps. Her music failed. It couldn’t help Drystan when he needed it, just as it hadn’t helped her mother. At least her song hadn’t killed him—yet. The altar he’d worked at reminded her far too much of another bed of blood. The one where her mother died. She’d sung to her through her hard labor and right into the Goddess’s hallowed halls. As if that hadn’t been enough, it was her song that drove Mother out of the house to begin with, her singing that she insisted on despite Mother’s claim of a headache.

Back then, Ceridwen still clung to her foolish, girlhood dream of being a great singer on the stage. If she sang during their family’s visit to the capital, even inside, surely someone would notice and offer her that dream. It led to a nightmare instead. If she’d listened, Mother might not have gone out that day. She might not have gotten hurt and ended up in labor weeks too early. And then, Ceridwen just had to go and sing to her again when her mother asked between her cries of pain. One final song that took her life.

“Miss Ceridwen.” Jackoby halted as she flew out of the stairwell and nearly barreled into him. “Is he—”

She sucked in a deep breath and bit her lip. “Maybe.” She hadn’t waited to be sure.

He straightened despite his already stiff posture. “I’ll sound the servant bells.” He took off at a near run, as fast as decorum would allow. “Get to your room,” he called over one shoulder.

But she didn’t need to be told. Already Ceridwen hurried in that direction, lifting her skirts to speed her progress.

Alone in her room, failure overwhelmed her. She’d been so certain her music would help, that it would contain the beast if she’d played. Yet it had risen anyway. Ceridwen wiped at the tears leaking down her face. They wouldn’t help anyone. Tears hadn’t saved her mother. They wouldn’t help Drystan now.

She waited by the windows for long minutes, listening for sounds of the beast roaming the manor grounds. All night she remained there. They never came, but that didn’t mean it hadn’t risen.

When at last she calmed down, she played her flute until her fingers tingled from overuse, and sleep blurred the edge of her vision.

Only as she finally gave in to the urge to rest did a sharp howl pierce the wintery night.

Ceridwen paced near the stairs to the tower half the morning, but Drystan did not emerge. Nor had anyone seen him.

An ominous sign.

The temptation to lose herself in the paths of the greenhouse beckoned. She yearned to dig her hands into the dirt, to prune the hedges, to plant late seedlings—anything to keep her mind off the man she longed to see. However, thoughts of another man kept her from those glass walls. She couldn’t handle Malik right now. Not in her current state.

The temptation to climb the stairs was almost too much. A few times, she’d ventured the first step, but the thought of what she’d find at the top, and Drystan’s stern warnings, urged her back down.

Visiting Bronwyn might help. But her sister would know something bothered her. And worse, Ceridwen might just tell her everything. Something she simply couldn’t do. She hadn’t mentioned a word of her suspicions during her visit the day before—hard as it had been. However, seeing her family had given her the courage to confront Drystan about his past and give voice to the suspicion Malik’s reveal had fueled.

Instead of venturing home or outdoors, Ceridwen fled to her other sanctuary with the manor: the library.

The sweet, musky scent of old books washed over her like a balm as soon as she opened the ornate wooden door. But the reverie didn’t last.

“Ah, our lady of music. I thought you might appear.”

Her nails dug into the edge of the door. Too bad it wasn’t his neck.

“Before you run off, do come inside for a minute.” Malik beckoned her toward the table he stood next to, where books of various shapes and sizes were strewn open in front of him.

Anything sounded better, even facing down Drystan’s monster. But his cocky, know-it-all smile drew her in. It begged her to agree with his request despite the way her legs locked up. Besides, he was a prince.Theprince for all the world knew. Even if he didn’t parade around here as such, who was she to insult a royal?

Ceridwen released the door and stepped inside.

“Close it.” He motioned with a wave of his hand.

Reluctantly, she complied, but not before looking both ways out the door with a quick prayer to the Goddess that someone would notice and join them.

No one did.

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