Play Until Dawn

Every Wednesday since March, harpist Carys Pryce has ended her pub set with the same slow air, for the man in the corner who never drinks his pint. On the longest night of the year he pays her in gold to play a private party under the hill. She knows her grandmother's rules: don't eat, don't drink, don't give your name. Barrow adds one. Behind a screen of silver branches, she must play until dawn, or the revel will look up and find her. Then his hands are on her, and every note she misses, they hear.