Page 94 of The Musician and the Monster

But the silence stretched. A coil of dread slipped into her happiness.

“Drystan?”

She twisted toward his side of the bed to be greeted by empty, ruffled sheets. One object lay where he’d rested the night before: a single purple rose.

Drystan loved his roses. He’d clipped other flowers for her, but never those, yet now he’d left one on the pillow. Tentatively, she ran her fingertips over the silken petals and down the stem, dodging thorns. When she reached the cut end, it was still moist.

The beautiful sight should have filled her with further joy, but foreboding crept in instead. Why the rose instead of him? She’d never considered that he might be absent when she woke. Not after the night they’d shared.

Chills raced over her naked skin as she sat upright in bed. The man she loved was nowhere to be found, nor could she hear any sound from the floor above.

“Drystan?” Ceridwen called again, eyeing the doorway. Any moment now, he’d walk in, and all the tension building against her bones would rush away.

But moments passed, and only silence greeted her.

In haste, she slipped from the bed, wincing against the cold, and donned the clean underthings, nightdress, and robe that someone—likely Drystan—had left at the foot of the bed.

With still mussed and tangled hair, she rushed down the stairs.He’s just gone down for breakfast. Everything is fine.But she didn’t believe her own excuses.

Each step notched her panic a note higher until she practically jumped down the last steps and out into the main hall. Voices swarmed her, including one she did not expect.

“You haven’t explained anything,” Bronwyn snapped. “How many times do I have to ask?”

“At least a few more,” Malik replied, though he didn’t sound the least bit annoyed.

Her sister stared daggers at the prince. If only she knew. But Ceridwen had more important things on her mind. “Where’s Drystan?”

Their attention snapped to her, silencing the argument between them.

Bronwyn gaped. “Ceridwen…you…” Her gaze trailed over her sister’s mussed hair and robe. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” Ceridwen assured as her sister rushed to greet her. Past her, Malik’s smile had died. He shifted from one foot to the other, not looking her in the eye. Her heart started to crumble. Something was wrong. Very wrong.

“Was Drystan here?” Ceridwen asked.

“Yes, he came down,” he replied at length. “Or so I was told.”

“And?”

She didn’t want to know. She had to know.

“He’s gone. He left for the capital on the early train.”

She didn’t hear him correctly. Couldn’t have. The world before her shifted. Her legs shook. Bronwyn lunged for her as she slumped to the floor.

“He…he…”He left me.

Bronwyn pulled her tight against her chest. “You bastard!” she yelled over her shoulder. “You had to tell her something hurtful with such callousness?”

“I didn’t ask to be the messenger,” Malik retorted. “But I did think to fetch you to be here for her.”

She snapped her mouth shut, cutting off whatever she planned to say as she focused on Ceridwen again.

Ceridwen saw her sister and felt her embrace, but everything was numb and far away. Nothing filled her but deep emptiness.

“It’s okay. It will be okay,” Bronwyn crooned.

But it wouldn’t. If she never saw him again… She shuddered. It was unthinkable.

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