Page 63 of The Musician and the Monster

Another young woman dressed in white ran to Ceridwen’s side—a friend, possibly—letting out something caught between a gasp and shriek as she spied the duel.

Adair charged again, aiming to skewer Drystan on the point of his sword. Instead, Drystan deflected the blade and twisted around, sending his opponent lunging several steps toward the growing crowd.

Adair stilled as he spied the new onlooker. A young woman he desired? Drystan blew a huff of air through his nose. If so, this sordid display surely wouldn’t help his chances.

Drystan adjusted his stance. The young man hesitated, distracted from his opponent. It would be an easy opportunity to end this nonsense, but that would likely enrage Adair more and earn Drystan no favors withCeridwen. Instead, he waited.

With a grunt, Adair whirled. Eyes wild, he stalked to his opponent and swung with both hands clenched around the hilt. His poor form, not to mention his attitude, would have offended his commanding officer, especially if they knew who he fought.

If this continued, it would ruin Adair and possibly cost him his position.

This time, Drystan pulled his blade back before he swung it into Adair’s oncoming attack. A hush spread across the crowd as Drystan’s blade sent Adair’s flying from his hands and skidding across the snow-covered ground.

“Enough,” Drystan said, his breath fogging in the cool air.

But the fool wasn’t done. He moved in a flash, attempting to land a kick to Drystan’s stomach. A mistake. Instead, the move unsettled his stance. His arms flailed in the air. A short curse left Adair’s lips, and with a slip and crash, the young man landed unceremoniously on his back upon the icy ground.

A deep groan filled the air as Adair attempted to rise before submitting to the ground.

“Idiot,” the young woman in white shouted, tears glistening in her eyes before she fled into the hall. Ceridwen watched her go, frowning all the while.

Too bad she hadn’t chosen a wiser beau or one who could handle his drink.

Adair’s friends helped him to his feet as Drystan crossed the space to Ceridwen. Congratulations and shouts of praise rang out from other citizens who’d been drawn by the scuffle, but he only had eyes for one, and she stood silent, that pinched and sorrowful expression stuck to her features.

“Pity. Things were just getting fun.” Malik shrugged as he approached. The movement showed off his silken shirt to great effect. At some point, his coat had disappeared too. It didn’t take long for Drystan to spy it wrapped around Ceridwen’s sister, Bronwyn. She’d rejected his offer to dance but not his coat. How very odd. Drystan’s brow arched as he looked from her to Malik. His cousin’s smirk broadened, and he fought the urge to roll his eyes. Whatever happened, he’d clearly missed something.

“I’ll give you a ride home,” Drystan offered, turning to the sisters. “Both of you.”

“Thank you,” Ceridwen replied. Her focus wasn’t on him, but rather something or someone behind him.

Drystan looked over his shoulder in time to see Adair regain his footing. He stared at them, his gaze briefly catching Drystan’s before flitting away. In that brief moment, though, he caught the regret in his eyes…and the shame.

Good.Hopefully he learned a lesson this night. Most would not havebeen so lenient.

The carriage ride back to the sisters’ home passed in mostly terse, uncomfortable silence. No one seemed apt to speak, and the conversation he desperately needed to have with Ceridwen wasn’t one he wished to have in front of her sister or Malik.

The only bit of amusement during the chilly ride was Malik’s obvious looks of interest toward Bronwyn and her equally scathing appraisals in return. Ceridwen, meanwhile, seemed not to notice any of them as she stared at nothing out the window.

Once the carriage rolled to a stop, the men hopped out first and offered assistance to the women.

“Here.” Bronwyn unwrapped herself from Malik’s coat and held it as far away from her as her arm would allow. Her nose wrinkled when he didn’t immediately accept it, as if the thing repulsed her. It hadn’t when she’d huddled in its warmth the whole ride home, sitting as far from him as possible in the tight carriage.

“Happy to be of service, my lady.” He accepted it with a flourish and a smile. If Drystan didn’t know better, he might think his cousin genuinely interested in the young woman. But the cousin he knew flirted with just about everyone who crossed his path, and he couldn’t recall him ever settling on one long enough to truly care, especially not one who rebuked him—not that such a thing often happened.

With a harrumph, Bronwyn turned and stormed off into the house without a backward glance. Not for the men or her sister who still stood in the snowy street. Malik laughed and returned to the carriage, leaving Drystan alone with Ceridwen at the bottom of the short stairs to her house.

“You’ll think about my question?” he asked.

He held his breath as Ceridwen slowly slipped his coat from her shoulders, taking care not to let any of it touch the ground.

“I already have.”His tailcoat hung from her arms, untouched, as Drystan took in her impassive face.

He braced for the worst, for the doom certain to spill from her lips in the next second. His jaw worked as he took the garment without a word. The mask still adorned his face, and he was grateful for the meager shield to hide the impact of her impending rejection.

With the coat secured around him once more, Drystan took her hand in his. “I’m glad I got to see you one last time.” The chaste kiss he placed on the back of her hand was a mockery of all the longing he still possessed.

“Last time?” she whispered.

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