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“I’m sorry.” The guard muttered so that only they could hear. “I didn’t know what to do, who to follow.”

He licked the top row of his teeth, adjusting the boy to a higher position in order to keep him from slipping down his body. “It’s been a confusing week, for all of us.”

He felt Cobalt lift his head, staring at Rook.

“How did you get that scar?” He inquired with a timid resonance. Sleep laced his high-pitched tenor, sleep that the poor child hadn’t gotten thanks to the illnesses that cursed him. He’d given into a horrible sweat last night. One that had West submerging him in the shower with nothing but cold water until he cooled off, wiping him utterly dry before helping him into one of his nightshirts.

It was all the boy wore now but it was long enough that it nearly fell to his knees.

“I competed in the Pits before Grimm took over. I walked away when the last fight I entered almost killed me. This is the result of almost losing.” He responded without any tone of irritation.

Patience was required with children, and some of the folk didn’t have it. But there was a glimmer of respect for Rook, even with his current allegiance, for how he treated Cobalt. Not as a prisoner, not as an enemy but merely a curious child.

Cobalt didn’t say anything for a solid minute but he kept his chin lifted. Then he said, “My sister would have beaten you.”

West couldn’t help the quiet laugh that tumbled out of his chest. “Yes, she would have.”

“It’s very possible.” Rook agreed, and he knew it was nothing more than the male agreeing for the sake of not upsetting the boy. He was a skilled fighter, there was no doubt about that since West had seen him in the right and personally gone up against him in all manner of training exercises.

But Crimson would have used her enchanting powers and had him on his back in a matter of minutes and five moves.

Altivar halted before the entrance to the castle as they descended down the massive staircase. He motioned for it to beopened and as the two fat doors groaned, sunlight pouring in from the courtyard, West blinked it all in. The Prince strode out first, then Satori as he followed and Rook trailed behind them.

Little fingers tensed on his grey tunic as Cobalt buried his face away from the blinding light but West didn’t let go of him as they walked outside. He took in his surroundings, noticing the handful of sentires posted alongside them and the slotted cart ahead of them. The horses tied to the front and the chains that dragged down, attached to the wooden bars meant for transporting a prisoner to another destination. He saw the familiar sack with her leathers already loaded inside, whipping around to see if he could locate the cerise head of hair anywhere.

His heart stuttered and shocks revolted through him as he found it, as she walked towards him.

West wasn’t sure if he imagined it or if it was because of the week apart, but she was more gorgeous than before. Even with the muck plastered to her face, her hair, her form, she held herself up high and that was a beautiful will that she bore.

He exhaled as his knees threatened to buckle.

“Crimson!” Cobalt wriggled free from his hold like a worm in the muddy earth as he spotted his sister, jumped the last few inches down and raced for her before West could grab him and stop him.

Altivar spun in their direction, eyes wide as he watched the boy run for her, as she ran for him with a sob of relief. She swept him into her arms, falling to the ground as her knees cracked. He wept in return, shaking her back and forth with the little strength he could muster.

West raised his hands up as Satori swung her spear around to point at him, causing him to freeze as one of Altivar’s prisoners was out of his control. He didn’t try to fight, allowing Crimsonto have this moment before anything or anyone could ruin it. He remained as still as stone, not even his onyx boots scuffing along the cobblestone street.

Crimson pulled away from her brother, patting down his hair and searching him for any sign of distress. She didn’t find any and he watched a shudder of reassurance trip through her. Cobalt whispered something illegible to her as she pressed a kiss to his forehead and then she looked at him at last.

And his heart fell before he could catch it.

Fifty Eight

Crimson didn’t want to leave Cobalt after she’d just gotten him back. But she knew that he’d eventually be forced away from her, regardless of what she did to attempt to stop anyone that even dared to try. Whatever the boundaries of her new powers were, she wasn’t sure and she wasn’t in a secure enough place to test them out. Not with her brother in harm’s way. So she lowered her head to his, closed her eyes and held him again.

Every thrum of blood, every beat and pulse she could hear. They ran through her like wind in the grass and she tuned in time to none other than one. Not the one in front of her which she knew beat steadily, but the one to the side. The one that raced like it was sprinting for its life. The one that mustered her confidence and turned her blood into a roaring inferno.

“I love you, Blue. Don’t you ever forget it.” She squeezed his hands in hers and pressed a kiss to his forehead. Everyone was observing them but she didn’t care.

“I love you too. But…” Cobalt leaned close and muttered into her ear, “Heloves you, Red. You’ve spent your entire life giving me everything. Don’t let him go.”

She let out a breath that snapped in two, pulling away and slowly opening her eyes as she turned to look at West. He found her, something shifting in his sapphire and star gaze that made her want to start crying all over again.

Crimson let go of her brother’s hands, “I love him.” Then she stood as Rook came forward, gently pushing him away as she brushed off her knees and inhaled sharply.

West didn’t take his eyes off of her as she looked to Altivar for permission to approach him. The Prince shallowly dipped his chin once, allowing her a brief moment with the Saint that had saved her. She could clearly make out the stress woven into the lines of his handsome face, the worry that made the muscle in his cheek jump. He was clean-shaven again, but his umber hair was messy and the lack of sleep was apparent by the bags under his eyes.

He didn’t lower his hands as she cautiously came closer, her heart rioting against her ribcage as she took him and all his gloriousness in. His grey shirt was low cut, tucked into high-waisted charcoal trousers that she swore she never saw off of him. Black boots folded over right before his knees and he wore no weapon or belt. Even in this plain state, she was utterly, devastatingly in love with him.