A Sweet Surrender
A Tiny Tale by T. Rae Mitchell
EVERY GIRL IN THE KINGDOM has heard the fables about the mysterious violinist who plays his serenades beneath the moon. They say those who followed his music were never seen again.
I should have barred my door. Instead, I opened it.
I don’t remember leaving my bed. Only the velvet music drifting through the darkness, winding itself around my thoughts until all that existed was the melody.
The castle sleeps as I slip into the corridor. Moonlight pours through tall windows, silvering the stone beneath my bare feet. Every note draws me farther from the safety of my chamber, through empty halls and beneath ivy-laced archways glazed with frost.
The winter air greets me as I step into the palace gardens, glacial enough to steal my breath. Snow blankets the hedges and flowerbeds in untouched white, sparkling beneath the full moon. My thin nightgown offers no protection, and yet I don’t feel cold. The music is my warmth, leading me across the sleeping garden, where every rosebush lies buried beneath snow and the fountain has surrendered to ice.
Fresh footprints stretch before me. His footprints disappear into the courtyard ahead. I round the final hedge, and there, bathed in moonlight, stands the violinist. A handsome young man with dark hair brushing the collar of a long black coat embroidered with gold thread that catches the light like spun fire. His face is bowed over a violin tucked beneath his jaw, his fair skin luminous beneath the night sky.
He glides his bow across the strings like a lover’s fingertips over bare skin, drawing out a moan so intimate that I feel the caress of each note. Heat rises through me, blooming across my cheeks.
For the span of a heartbeat, I wonder… Am I ill? Is this a fever dream?
The melody curls through my thoughts like warm smoke, banishing my questions. Every slow stroke of his bow unravels another thread from the armor I’ve wrapped around my heart. Years of careful restraint loosen beneath his music, falling away one silken strand at a time until it finds the lonely ache I’ve spent a lifetime denying.
The hollow inside me opens.
Shadows flood in to fill the forgotten corners of my soul. They delight in every innocent hope I’ve buried, every longing I’ve denied, weaving themselves through them until I can no longer tell where the ache ends and the music begins.
A new dusting of snow begins to fall around us, but all I see are the bright red embers dancing off his violin strings. They encircle me like fireflies, mesmerizing me with their light.
Beneath the melody, I hear a message, written just for me.
You have carried this emptiness for too long. Give me your name, and you’ll be mine.
A deeper chord resonates through the courtyard.
I’ll keep you warm in my blood. In my soul. The final note lingers like a kiss. You’ll never be alone again.
The bow stills. Slowly, he lifts his head, and his gaze meets mine at last. Scarlet eyes glitter like garnets beneath dark brows.
I know I should look away. Instead, I stand rooted where I am. Unable… No, unwilling to break his gaze. Something inside me has already crossed the distance between us.
His lips curve into a devastating smile. The violin and bow slip from his fingers soundlessly into the snow. He moves toward me, each step smooth and measured, like a great cat crossing a meadow with his sights set on a deer.
He comes to a stop before me and slides his hand around my waist. Pressing his fingers into my flesh with surprising strength, he draws me against him. Every line of his strong body presses through the thin fabric of my nightgown, fueling the unnatural warmth burning in my core.
I lean into him as though I’ve always belonged in his arms, and I lift my chin high. He brushes a strand of auburn hair from my face before sweeping the rest from my shoulder. His fingertips are cold as polished marble. His eyes leave mine only long enough to trace the contours of my face to the length of my neck. When they return to my face, the hunger in them is matched only by the look of reverence in his expression.
As though I’m a treasure.
“Give me your name,” he whispers. His deep voice is every bit as irresistible as the violin.
Barely louder than a breath, I answer. “Cerridwyn.”
His smile deepens. Two elegant points gleam behind his lips. “My Cerridwyn.”
No one has ever spoken my name as though it were sacred. My heart aches with the sweetness of hearing it.
He leans close, and his lips brush mine. More of a whisper than a kiss, before tracing across my cheek, along the edge of my jaw. Each touch leaves a delicious trail of heat. When his mouth reaches the curve of my neck, I close my eyes.
His breath is cool, with lips too wintry and smooth to be human. The delicate sting of sharp teeth follows. The transformation of pure pleasure into exquisite pain tugs a faint gasp from my lungs.
A sweet and silent surrender wrapped in velvet.
The courtyard, the castle, the falling snow, all of it slips away within the arms of this stranger who knows the loneliness I’ve hidden away. At long last, I understand. His melody had not been calling me into the night. It had been calling me home.
(Violinist art by MythologyArt on Pixabay)
I hope you enjoyed this small glimpse into a world of magic and mystery. There’s much more waiting for you if you’re in the mood for a fierce heroine, dangerous secrets, slow-burn romance, and worlds where magic always comes with a price in my full-length romantasy series, Her Dark Destiny.
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