Page 26 of The Musician and the Monster

“These roses are my favorite here,” he said. “I’ve grown them wherever I’ve lived for as long as I can remember. An odd hobby for a noble, I suppose. Most would leave the task to their gardeners. This place was a mess when I first moved in. The old caretaker kept some of the plants alive since the last Lord Protector left, mostly edible ones, but many we had to replant.”

Ceridwen’s smiles and compliments of his roses as they wandered the rows started a fluttering low in his stomach.

“I often got made fun of as a child for loving beautiful things,” he admitted, gazing at the roses again. “Even so, I don’t regret it. They brought me comfort when little else did.”

Old memories, and some more recent, tried to claw their way to the surface. A frown pulled at his features. Ceridwen placed her hand on his arm, the gentle touch dispersing the darkness like a gust of fresh air.

“They’re lovely. There’s a beauty in watching things flourish and grow. I’ve always enjoyed it myself, even the dirt under my fingernails.” She freed her arm from his and leaned down to better inspect some of the blooms. “It’s much better than spending your time in that tower.”

Drystan stiffened. “The tower?” He hadn’t imagined things when he had entered the courtyard. She was curious about his tower, trying to learn more. He both loved and loathed that about her.

“What do you do up there?” she asked with a glance over her shoulder, trailing her fingers across silken petals.

“What do I do?” What to possibly tell her to ease her curiosity? He decided to stick as close to the truth as he could. “I keep the monster at bay.”

She twisted around in a rush, her mouth forming a silent O. “You? Keep the monster away?” she asked incredulously.

A wry smile lit his face. “Do you doubt my ability?”

Her back straightened, and that fierce spark of conviction lit her eyes a moment before she spoke. “Of course I do. I saw the monster murder a man with my own eyes. I’ve heard the stories of it killing animals. Even here… I hear it at night sometimes.”

“That was quite the accusation.”

Her cheeks flushed.

“It could be so much worse, Ceridwen.”

Her gaze darted away, the color of her cheeks increasing.“Can you make it go away?”

Something about her look and the desperation in her request drew him closer. He stepped near, and her gaze snapped to him. She seemed to hold her breath, her form perfectly still as he reached up and brushed a few wayward strands of hair behind her ear.

“I try to contain it every night.”

“With magic?” she asked.

He longed to linger, to touch her again, but he stepped back, giving her space. “That’s a part of it.”

“If your magic is not enough, perhaps the city could help you. The mayor. The militia. Maybe organize a hunting party? The mayor is offering a reward. I’m sure people would help you.”

“No. They would not be able to help.” It would only put more innocents in harm’s way, and he had no desire for more blood on his hands. He’d seen enough of death and tragedy.

“How can that be? If it bleeds, it can be killed. I saw it bleed the night I was attacked.”

“Why so curious?” He fought the urge to reach for her again, to calm the edge of hysteria rising in her voice. “Shouldn’t you be afraid?”

“I am.” She twisted her hands in front of her, looking away for a brief moment before settling her gaze on him once more. “But one night when I heard it, it also sounded, well, sad.”

“Sad?”

“Yes.”

So perceptive, this young woman. She had no idea about the truth of the monster, and from what she’d seen and heard, she concluded much. Perhaps it was her talent as a musician, the ability to hear and understand without words.

“There is much you do not know.” Drystan glanced toward the tower.

From the corner of his eye, he saw her open her mouth and close it again. She reached for him and then lowered her hand, twisting it with her other in front of her dress.

“Come,” he said in an attempt to guide them back to safer, happier topics. “Let me show you the rest of the garden.”

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