Page 59 of The Musician and the Monster

Commotion picked up behind them. Conversations halted abruptly to start up again with gasps and questions. Every muscle in her body went rigid.

“Who are they?” Georgina blurted right in the middle of Lydia’s story.

Bronwyn twisted to the side and stilled. Lydia pouted at the interruption but did the same. Her expression slid into one of shock as her mouth parted in surprise.

It can’t be.The thought lodged in Ceridwen’s mind, repeating over and over.

“I truly don’t know,” Lydia said, recovering quickly.

A familiar tickling grazed her head and shoulders before moving on. But a moment later, it settled on her anew, crawling down her back with spiderlike fingers. And she knew. She knew without looking who had entered the hall.

Chapter 27

Drystan

Attending the winter ball was a terrible idea. Drystan still couldn’t quite figure out how Malik had talked him into it, though deep within, he knew it had something to do with the lovely young woman he’d spied across the ballroom.

She hadn’t written to him. Had not responded to his letter nor shown up at the manor’s gate as he’d secretly hoped. And where his cousin was often not to be trusted, in Drystan’s recent experiences, he’d been right on this account. Ceridwen attended the ball.

By some twisted blessing of the Goddess, it was a masquerade, an excuse to hide his face, and Malik’s, lest anyone recognize them and it cause a stir. Drystan had chosen an elaborate mask shaped like a bird of prey. Fanciful grays wings stretched out to either side of his face, the beak covering his own nose. Malik wore a cat mask, complete with golden whiskers that glinted in the light. Entirely too fitting given his playful amusement at the whole affair, especially since it was his idea to attend.

But even if these people weren’t sure exactly who strode into their midst, they’d garnered more attention within a minute than he’d hoped to receive all night.

They were strangers to these people who seemed to know one another well—finely dressed outsiders who caused a wave of whispers to spread out from them with each step into the room.

No matter. It was done. The damage of it he would deal with later. In that moment, there was only one person he wanted to see.

Ceridwen turned his way from where she stood with a gaggle of other young women. Despite the mass of bodies and yards between them, their eyes locked across the space. All at once, he was too warm in his tailored tailcoat. Such an effect she had without a word or touch.

Someone—her sister perhaps, by the look of her—whispered something to Ceridwen, who nodded, her focus never leaving him.

Whispers swarmed around Drystan and Malik.

“Someone’s relative?”

“Those clothes.” One woman gasped. “Could they be nobles? Nobles at a ball in Teneboure?”

No one knew. They didn’t recognize their Lord Protector. But of course, they shouldn’t with the way he kept to himself. Drystan relaxed his stance and pasted on an easy smile, attempting to look comfortable, at ease, as if this were a daily occurrence for him.

The crowd parted as Drystan and Malik strode into their midst. Despite the mass of people and the noise, the woman across the room consumed him. Every moment between them flashed like lightning through his mind.

And then she was there before him, frozen solid like a statue of ice, resplendent in layers of blue. He recognized the dress immediately as one he'd commissioned for her, and his chest swelled with delight at the way it accented her coloring and natural beauty. And of all the things for her to wear, she'd chosen the dress embroidered with shimmering silver birds, so like the one her dainty mask was meant to portray.

Ceridwen's sister grabbed her hand, trying to pull her away. To save her from him?How quaint.

“May I have the next dance?” Drystan gave a courtly bow and extended his hand to Ceridwen.

Some of the other young women nearby gasped, whispering among one another, but he only had eyes for one. It wasn't lost on him that they matched, her pale blue and little birds the feminine compliment to his hawkish mask and brocade vest under his coat of navy. Dark and light. Predator and song bird.

He held his breath, waiting to see what she would do, fearful she might flee out into the cold night.

Finally, she slid her hand from her sister’s and extended it to Drystan. “You may.”

Thank the Goddess.Drystan closed the meager distance and took her hand in his. Despite the gloves he wore, his heart gave an involuntary leap when they touched. He relished in the feel of her dainty hand in his.

Someone nearby gave a dramatic, swooning sigh. Another woman giggled. This night, this moment, would be the topic of gossip for days to come, but right then he couldn’t make himself care.

Malik slid into the space next to him, his attention focused on Ceridwen’s sister. “May I have the honor?” he asked, extending a hand.

---