Page 99 of The Musician and the Monster

Bronwyn stepped up first. “Bronwyn Kinsley,” she said with a curtsy. “And my sister, Ceridwen.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Ceridwen added with a curtsy of her own, doing her best not to let her unease show.

Boisterous laughter, pitched too high to be natural, filled the room. “Lovely. I’m Wynnifred Prosser, though I suppose he’s told you that.” She pointed a manicured nail at Malik. “Welcome to my opera house.”

She waved them toward the seats. “Now that the pleasantries are out of the way, what is this favor?”

Malik made himself comfortable on a pink settee before he said, “I’d like you to let Ceridwen perform on your stage.”

Wynni took her in appraisingly.

“Tonight,” Malik added.

Ceridwen’s breath hitched and she sat a little straighter. Wynni’s sculpted eyebrows reached higher as her gaze shifted between the prince and Ceridwen.

“And the nextseveral nights if needed.”

No.Me? Perform on a stage?She couldn’t. Yes, it had been a dream once, but playing for so many people… The possibility of it made her dizzy and she clutched the cushion beneath her for support.

“She looks like she might faint first,” Chesa whispered to Wynni, but the other woman ignored her as she pulled a paper fan from her dress pocket, unfolded it in a snap, and fanned herself.

“My, that is quite the request,” Wynni replied.

“She’s very talented.” Malik leaned in and began gesturing with his hands, his chin lifting with the practiced confidence of someone used to getting their way. “Besides, I could make your house renowned. Famous for all time.”

A small smile lit her face. “It already is, darling. Besides, I have plenty of my own singers.”

Ceridwen’s heart skipped a beat. He couldn’t mean for her to sing. She shifted in her seat. “I can’t—”

Chesa stood abruptly, and Ceridwen’s protest died. The woman with teal hair stepped in front of Ceridwen’s seat and bent over until their faces were nearly level. But Chesa wasn’t looking at her, not exactly anyway. Her gaze seemed to be far away and so close at all once. Suddenly she straightened and looked back at Wynni. “She has a story, this one. A song, but not a spoken one.”

The idea of the woman prying into her mind suddenly felt all too plausible. Ceridwen glanced at Malik, not bothering to shield the panic she knew must be visible in her eyes.

However, Malik’s pinched brows smoothed out as did his stiff posture. “How astute,” he replied, unruffled. Then to Wynni, “She plays the flute better than anyone you’ve heard. And she happens to have the third act ofThe Blessings of the Goddessin her possession.”

The fan halted. “It doesn’t exist,” Wynni said, but her eyes gleamed with interest, her voice carrying an intensity that begged for what he claimed to be true even though she’d been quick to deny it.“It does. I’ve seen it myself,” he said, reclining with a smug smile.

A silent conversation passed between Chesa and Wynni. Then, Wynni took Ceridwen in again, finally noticing the case she clutched for dear life. “Well then, why don’t you play for me, dear?” She snapped the fan closed. “But if I’m going to rearrange my schedule at the lastminute, it better be good.”

Bronwyn cinched her sister into the corset, pulling the string so tightly Ceridwen gasped.

“I won’t be able to play if it’s too tight,” she reminded her.

“The dress Wynnifred found for you won’t fit if this isn’t tight.” Her regular cast were all tiny or curvaceous, with few in between, much to Ceridwen’s misfortune. This dress, a confection of pink-and-white lace, proved the best she could find on short notice.

“Besides,” Bronwyn continued. “She loved your playing so much that she agreed to completely change her evening program for the entire week. Even her strange assistant clapped like a little kid after just one song. I doubt the rare off note will hinder her regard.”

“It’s not her attention I’m after.”

Their plan was haphazardly pieced together at best. Get Ceridwen on the stage in front of a massive audience to play a song most didn’t believe existed. Her music, along with the song, should spread gossip around the city in no time, especially if Wynnifred gushed about it as well, which she promised to do. With any luck, Drystan would hear the rumors and make an appearance of some sort.

If they weren’t already too late. She pushed the thought away, refusing to let it fester.

One thing was certain, though. They couldn’t just wander into the castle looking for him. Malik was reluctant to return yet for fear of his father restricting his movement or immediately ordering him off on some other venture.

Malik left the sisters in Wynnifred’s care while he went to retrieve the sheet music. Ceridwen hadn’t memorized the third movement yet, not all of it. Improvising would not work for this show. To impress such a particular audience, used to seeing and hearing the best talent in the country, she would need to be perfect.

Bronwyn helped her into the dress and then stepped back as two women rushed in to attend to her hair and makeup.

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