Chapter 31
In the few days since her return, Ceridwen settled back into life at the manor, livening the place up instantly. Though Drystan thanked the Goddess on his knees for her return to his life, he also guarded his optimism. It was impossible to miss the way she jumped at unexpected sounds or seemed to stay in her room more than she had before. When they were together, her gaze often drifted to any shadowy places in the room. He knew what she saw there—ghastly visions of his alternate self.
It would be easy to lie and tell her she would be safe, that his monster would never harm her. But though her voice had stopped him twice, he couldn’t offer that false hope, no matter how much he wished it. It was best she stayed far away from him and from danger.
For that reason, he kept a careful distance between them and didn’t invite her back into his tower. That, and he could never let Malik deduce what he worked on up there. His cousin believed Ceridwen a romantic intrigue, and that was far safer than him knowing the effect her music had on his monster.
Ceridwen still played for him each night, usually alone, though sometimes during the day, she would play for him too, usually with Malik and some of the staff in attendance. He hadn’t known how many of his servants had lingered in the halls to hear her songs, but the confessions had slipped out slowly during her absence, the loss felt by many. It cheered Drystan to see those he cared for enjoy her music, and Ceridwen was more than happy to play for them as well. One evening, she even disclosed to him a secret dream from her youth of being a musician beloved by the masses. If he could make her dream happen, in even this little way, he wanted to. Whatever comfort and joy he could give her before he left for the capital, he owed her.
That was one reason he allowed her sister to visit and Ceridwen to leave the manor and visit her family as well. Drystan had been tense during the duration of Bronwyn’s visit for tea the day before, but the young woman had come and gone without issue. Even Malik gave the sisters peace to enjoy one another’s company. Recent news from the mayor’s office said that her brother’s unit had been deployed to the capital for the remainder of the season and through spring. Something about a training rotation. Drystan thanked the Goddess not to have the young man around to stir up more trouble, but he couldn’t hold back the pesky bit of worry that clung to the shadows of his mind. If anything happened to him, Ceridwen would be devastated.
That morning, Drystan had retreated to his one oasis within the manor outside Ceridwen and her music. The rose garden within the greenhouse.
There was something refreshing about spending his time among the plant life, pruning the bushes into perfection, and getting a little bit of dirt under his nails in the process. As a child, his mother had often scolded him, declaring the hobby below his station and something that should be left to the servants. No matter her ire and his love for her, he couldn’t quite abandon his passion for plants and making them grow. After her death, it was one of the few places that gave him peace. It was the same at this manor, and thankfully, no one tried to talk him out of it.
Drystan’s acute hearing alerted him to someone’s approach as he knelt among the roses, pruning away a cluster of browning leaves off a bush. A servant would have given him a clue of their approach, and Malik was never so quiet. His pulse picked up as he glanced over one shoulder and confirmed his suspicions.
Ceridwen looked resplendent in the morning light filtering in from the glass roof overhead. She wound her way through the rows of vegetables that supplied fresh food for the manor even in the depth of winter.
“Ceridwen.” A grin stretched his features before he set his clippers aside and rose to his feet.
She smiled in return, an act that sent his heart kicking against his ribs. That she could still look at him that way, even knowing what lurked beneath his skin, was a miracle in itself.
“The roses look lovely,” she said, coming to stand near him.
The hint of a frown tugged at his expression. “Mostly, but something has been bothering them lately. Look here.”
A few brown leaves and stems marred the bush of violet roses and several others nearby.
“They’re still quite beautiful to me.” She beamed. “You might be a perfectionist.”
“Perhaps, though I usually don’t have much trouble with these. It’s warm inside. I fertilize them the same way.” He shrugged. “I’m not sure what’s making them look peaked.” Drystan favored their unique color above the others and had brought them with him from the capital. He might have thought the transplant to blame, except they’d flourished under his care until recently. Perhaps they didn’t favor the northern winter, despite the protection the greenhouse afforded them.
“What brings you to the gardens today?” he asked, shifting his attention from the blooms.
Her gaze skirted down the stone pathway before she looked at him again. “I hoped to see you.”
Desperate longing filled him, its surge so sudden it took a moment to bring it under control. He cleared his throat, a poor attempt to rein in the flood of emotions. “Is there something I can do for you?”
“Bronwyn came for tea yesterday.”
“Yes, I know. Did you enjoy her company?”
“I did it. It was lovely, but…” All at once, her look darkened. “She said that the monster was seen two nights ago.”
He winced, his shoulders dropping. It was too much to hope she simply wanted to spend time with him. “I slipped while working on the—my project,” he corrected himself. Even here, he was careful not to reveal his secrets. “I remember bits and pieces. Scaring a group outside a pub. Spooking a horse or two. Did I…”
Goddess above. If he’d killed again, how could he face the shame and horror of it?
“No.” She laid her hand upon his arm, stirring up a mess of feelings, but drew it back almost as quickly. “No one was hurt. But…” She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. “I thought my music helped.”
He took her hand in his, savoring the tingling that zipped between them. “It does help. More than I can express.” He lowered his voice to barely a whisper. “But the spells I have left are difficult. Even with your help, I struggle to retain control. Without you, I wouldn’t have a chance at all.”
She closed the distance between them, wrapping her hand around his. “Then I’ll play more. Longer. Whatever it takes.”
“I don’t deserve you.” He cupped her cheek, savoring her soft intake of breath.
“But you do.” She tilted her head into his touch. “You gave me a dream I thought impossible. To play music and aid my family. No one else has ever offered a gift so precious.” A fragile smile broke across her face. “It took encountering a monster to give me something I love and turn my world upside down.”
A monster. That he was, but for once, it didn’t seem so terrible, not coming from her.
He leaned in until his forehead nearly touched hers. “Your presence helps too. Just spending time with you like this.”
A hint of color rose to her cheeks. “Then perhaps you shouldn’t spend so much time in your tower,” she teased.
“A necessary sacrifice. Though one day…” His voice trailed off as he stared down into her eyes. If only he could promise her more, days where they could linger without the threat of his monster or the darkness spreading from the capital. That was the dream. One so fragile and unlikely he couldn’t bring it into words.
But there was something he could do. Something he yearned for. Her eyelashes fluttered as he tugged her closer, his face leaning in, intent to take her mouth with his.
A piece of his heart splintered as she pulled away, popping the moment like a bubble.
“I could play now,” she said, only half looking at him. “A few extra songs couldn’t hurt.”
“Couldn’t hurt at all,” Drystan replied with a mildly sarcastic grunt.
And just like that, the moment was gone. Ceridwen trailed away from him through the gardens, eager to get her flute and play her songs.
He’d wished for more, pushed the slightest bit, and she’d shrunk from him.
Drystan swallowed thickly, his footsteps leaden as he walked after her. Perhaps his monster had stomped out the fragile bloom that grew between them forever.