Page 103 of The Musician and the Monster

The first day she’d been all nerves. The second still hadn’t felt real. Today, she finally let the joy of playing for a crowd sink in, relishing in her dream come to life.

As a little girl, she’d pretended to be a great singer on a stage. Now, she was, almost. She played her flute rather than singing, but for brief moments, the applause managed to drown out her worry for Drystan. Though, for much of the show, she could have sworn she felt eyes on her, someone watching. Not the crowd. This was a tingling from above, almost like the nights she’d believed her mother watched from the Goddess’s hallowed halls.

Long-stemmed roses splashed onto the stage, thrown by audience members in the front rows. Favors for the artist. For her. Such flowers would be very expensive this time of year, having been grown indoors during the cool season.

She gave another bow, her dress bunching on the polished wood, before making her way off the side of the stage.

“Beautiful!” Bronwyn wrapped her in a tight embrace, where she waited in the wings. Malik smiled nearby, as content and peaceful as she’d ever seen him. Perhaps this was his element after all, a place that provided him with more comfort than the role of spy or even prince.

Malik slipped in close, brushing Bronwyn’s shoulder. For once, she didn’t stare daggers at him or move away. Ceridwen cocked her head, observing the touch, but neither seemed to notice.

“There’s a fan to see you,” Malik whispered.

Ceridwen barely heard him over the din of the crowd wrapping up their praise and murmuring among themselves. Another performance would follow, but blessedly it wouldn’t be her giving it.

Ceridwen opened her mouth to reply when the words sank in. Her heart leaped. One hand flew to cover her mouth.Drystan. Finally.

Malik nodded.

“Take me there at once!” Excitement threatened to bubble out, and she couldn’t hold still.

“There’s my star!” Wynni swooped in, wrapping Ceridwen in a strong hug that nearly crushed the flute still in her grip. “You were brilliant tonight, just brilliant!” The heavy floral scent of her perfume flowed around them like a wave.

She nudged Malik out of the way and swooped her arm through Ceridwen’s. She’d never seen a person disregard status the way Wynni did. “There’s someone who wants to see you.” The opera house owner practically vibrated with glee.

“Oh, I know, we just—”

Malik dug his hand into her shoulder, cutting off her words. A quick flick of his head said everything.

Wynni didn’t know about Drystan.Then who?

“This is such a rare opportunity. We must go right away.” Wynni plucked the flute from Ceridwen’s hand. “Be a dear and put this away for us,” she ordered, passing it off to Chesa, who replied with a grin.

She didn’t wait for a reply before tugging Ceridwen along with her through the crowd backstage. Malik stuck close to her other side. In their haste, Ceridwen lost track of Bronwyn completely.

Behind the stage, people rushed this way and that, preparing for the next act, a troupe of singers who’d been a mainstay of Wynni’s shows for many years. Ceridwen nearly sighed as they escaped from the mass of movement into the quieter hallways.

“Who is it, Wynni?” Malik asked as they strode through the painted halls at break-neck speed.

“You don’t know?”

“Of course not, who—” Malik’s words choked off as two men came into view. Both were dressed alike in red jackets with black pants and boots. Their outfits resembled Adair’s military attire. These men could have been his peers in Teneboure, except for one difference. Each wore a sash across their chest, colored in purple and gold.

The men stood silently on either side of an innocuous door. Wynni practically ignored them as she rushed up, but Malik had gone pale and stiff. The thin line of his lips replaced his characteristic grin.

What’s wrong? Tell me!

Malik said nothing as Wynni presented Ceridwen before the men who knocked twice upon the polished wood. A muffled acknowledgment came from within.

One guard opened the door. Before Ceridwen could clearly see beyond, Wynni pulled her into the room.

“Your Majesty.”

Breath left her as shock gripped her heart. Wynni bent at the waist, pulling Ceridwen’s joined arm along with hers and forcing her into a bow.

The king. Holy Goddess, it’s the king.

“Ah, the musician.” His voice rang with command and authority—deep, strong, and with a slight lilt like his son.

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