Page 98 of The Musician and the Monster

The size and sprawl of the capital still boggled Ceridwen’s mind. They’d started passing farms an hour before the steam-powered train pulled into the station. When houses began to fill her vision with regularity, she’d been certain the train would draw to a halt at any moment, but they’d kept going until she could hardly comprehend the number of people who must reside among the many cramped buildings and narrow streets. Somehow, it had seemed less intimidating when she’d visited with her family some three years ago. But then, it was just a fun family trip—albeit one that ended terribly. This time was much different.

Colorful awnings and painted walls gave life to otherwise gray stone buildings. Trees were sparse, gardens even rarer, within the dense sprawl of the city proper.

Sound overwhelmed Ceridwen when they stepped from the train car. Unlike Teneboure, where no one seemed in a rush for anything, people ran this way and that, shouting and carrying on as if everything must happen in a moment or the Goddess would claim their soul. At least it was a change from the near-constant scowls and verbal taunts exchanged between Bronwyn and Malik for the better part of their journey.

“I still don’t see how anyone can stand this city,” Bronwyn said as she avoided a dubious puddle on the way to whatever nearby destination Malik had in mind.

“It has its beauty, if you know where to look.” Malik plowed ahead, navigating the maze of streets like a captain at sea.

“You’re sure our things will be safe?” Ceridwen asked for possibly the third time. She’d brought the sheet music forThe Blessings of the Goddessconcerto after recovering it from Drystan’s tower before their departure. The poor sheets were a little worse for wear with a few bloodstains and tears, but still readable. She should have left the concerto behind for safekeeping, especially with the state it was in, but it made its way into her trunk anyway. Her flute had been packed away as well until Malik insisted she fetch it for this little venture.

“I paid the porter more than enough. I have no doubt they’ll be at my apartment once we arrive.”

“You don’t have a more official residence?” Bronwyn asked. A jab. Of course he did.

He smirked over one shoulder. “You know why we can’t stay there. Besides, having a place of my own away from prying eyes has its advantages.”

“Such as?” she prodded.

The hooded smile and wicked grin he shot her way sent her stumbling over the cobblestones. Ceridwen’s own feet turned sluggish as well. It didn’t take much imagination to figure out his implication. A reckless, carefree prince indeed.

“Ah, here we are,” Malik announced, turning the corner onto a wide street.

A grand building rose before them, several stories in height. Marble pillars stretched up to the high roof from the landing atop a flight of wide stairs that started at the street. Paintings in golden frames hinted at shows and performances, either past or present. Doors two stories high stood at the front, just below a sign in gold letters that read Grand Opera.

“An opera house.” The sight nearly stopped Ceridwen in her tracks.

“The most renowned venue. Every show draws the city’s best like flies to a corpse.”

She gagged. Between his vile description and the stench of the city, she was lucky not to spill her meager meal from the train into the street.

“Why are we here?” Ceridwen asked once she’d recovered.

“Trust me, you’ll see.”

Dread washed over her as an inkling of his plan settled in, but she followed him to the side door without question. Outside the door were small posters resembling ones they’d seen at the station. Missing people—all who’d disappeared at night.

They’d heard the rumors, even in Teneboure. Now that they were here, the signs of trouble, of darkness, were impossible to miss if one knew what to look for.

Three solid raps drew the attention of an attendant who showed them into a small parlor. Plush velvets of crimson, gold, and shades of pink highlighted the cushions of elaborately carved furniture within the gaudy room. Painted posters of former shows and acts hung from the walls. A vibrant arrangement of greenery and winter flowers occupied a table in the middle of the seating area, so large Ceridwen could barely see over it.

After a few minutes, a busty woman with ringlets of long, golden hair burst through the door. Heavy makeup painted her entire face, from bloodred lips to coal-darkenedeyelids and rouged cheeks. An equally curious woman with bright-teal hair and dark skin followed.

“My favorite patron has finally returned to pay me a visit,” the first announced.

The woman’s masculine voice did not fit her appearance. And as Ceridwen looked closer, neither did the slight bulge on her neck.

“Wynni.” Malik bowed and kissed the back of her hand, which she’d offered to him. “Yourfavorite patronhas come to ask a favor. An urgent one.”

Her eyes glittered. “You know I do love a good intrigue. Speaking of, I don’t think you’ve met my new assistant, Chesa. She comes up with the most fascinating tales.”

Chesa gave a quick bow before her grin stretched wide to flash bright-white teeth as she tilted her head this way and that, studying them each in turn with rapt fascination.

“We’ll have an incredible opera this next season for sure. There’s the one she’s come up with about a secluded island ruled by two families, the sons of which are both in love with the same woman, who—”

Malik coughed loudly, cutting her off. Though Ceridwen had only heard half of what she’d said since Chesa kept staring at her like she could see every single thought in her head—a truly terrifying possibility.

“Ah, apologies. I get so excited, you know,” Wynni said, stifling a laugh. “We’ll talk later. Now then who are these lovely ladies with you?”

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