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Since there was no pin to hold it in place, nothing to keep it back, her braid whipped free, her cowl coming with it.

As he revealed Red Lyric to the audience.

Sixty Two

West reached the tavern, sweating far more than he ever had in his entire life. Patrons looked at him like he was crazy but he ignored them all, ran to the counter and ordered a steel cutlass. The woman let him into the Pits and he jumped down half of the stairs as the crowd yelled down into the arena.

He’d recognise her anywhere.

Crimson was mid-fight with a tall man that was almost twice her size. She wasn’t showing any signs of struggle but his magic still flared at the sight of her in that situation. She moved faster than lightning, avoiding a strike as his night surrounded the room and dimming the lights to barely nothing.

He cursed himself when she swung her head around, searching for him as if that alerted her to his arrival. A few of the onlookers in the second row turned towards him, muttering and returning their attention back to the ongoing round. He pushed past the bodies that shoved against him like the ocean current, slamming him back against the wall.

He needed to get down to her, flaring like a supernova as his magic revolted against the restrictions he provided. The people shouted in alarm, turning away from him as fast as they could and he snorted at it. It didn’t matter what sort of power he had- there would always be those who worshipped gods, loved them and would sacrifice anything for them. And then there were those who were completely terrified of them.

West preferred the second because it was less bothersome. Especially in situations such as this. He hadn’t been asked to be made, hadn’t even known he’d been created from anything until Heartache woke him up from the pit of a star, the biggest and brightest one in the sky. But with this sort of gift, this sort of life- came the passion that being a star never could bring. Yes, he’d burned and blazed something brilliantly, but it was nothing, stardust compared to the roaring inferno that he was now.

He’d love her, worship her, protect her, take care of her if it meant that he could love her to the fullest of his abilities. Every night that he’d remained in the midnight sky as the stars, the moon, the beauty of it all, he’d watched people below as they fell in love with his ineffable grace. As they’d wish on him, love him, want him more than anything else in the world. As they prayed to the northern star for luck and happiness, as they desired to join him.

People fell in love with the stars through every eternity he’d witnessed. But the star had only fallen in love with one in return. One, who he’d do anything for, give up his immortality if he could.

West skimmed through the crowd, weaving in and out like thick threads on a loom as the fight went on. He heard the clash of blades, the steel on steel and the grunts of exertion that followed. He ducked under serving girls trays, avoided the courtesans told to seek him out for more money and dodged drunk men thatripped up their betting tickets. He passed by the announcer who lazily picked at his nails as if he had nothing better to do and darted down the staircase to the first level.

And then the crowd fell silent to the point where West wondered if he’d accidentally unleashed anymore tendrils of northern power. But as he tried to find the source of his leak, he found that it wasn’t because of him. His tattoo still wound around his wrist, visible but it was a normal, passable tone that he bore instead of the shimmering gold.

So West snapped his gaze towards the arena.

And his heart stuttered as the man yanked her disguise off for all to see. He was shocked as he dropped her hood, letting it fall behind her shoulders as her red braid came free. Her bangs hadn’t been pulled back and without the cowl, it was clear to anyone with eyes that she was not a man.

Crimson whirled around, hazel eyes wide with fear as her chest rapidly rose and fell. West searched for a weapon, he hadn’t had time to steal one from the guards that attacked him nor run back to his room to grab one. But he found one on one of the previous winners from the night, enjoying a cold mug of ale in the first row. He wrapped his fingers around it and pulled it free in a swift motion before the man had the chance to yell at him for stealing it.

Within a second of arming himself, he marched into the ring as Crimson’s sight landed on him. He saw the relief blanket through her, the admiration that shone for him.

“Hey, Heartstrings,” He said by way of greeting, far too casually for the amount of tension that locked his chest in a painful hold. “What, didn’t think I’d leave you to fight this on your own, did you?”

Her face crumpled, redness spreading along her waterlines,lips popping open as she stared at him. “You came.” She swallowed, slamming her elbow into her attacker’s face, allowing them a minute more to converse before she’d have to make another move.

“Of course I did.” He shrugged, coming to stand by her side. “Nothing in Hisaith could keep me away from you.”

The man growled, hoisted his shield back up and charged at them both. West went left and she went right. The crowd was in an uproar at the two fighters, illegal in all consideration of the rules that the Blades of Blood followed in accordance with. But she’d already broken the biggest rule, years ago and he didn’t give aSaints-damnedfuck about the rest of them.

West heaved his weight into the large sword he borrowed- because he had every intention of returning it once he no longer needed it- and arched it into the shield as Crimson hit the pommel of her dagger against his wrist. The bone cracked, he screamed and she kicked the back of his knee as West spun around his back and added a slash down his tendons.

He wouldn’t be getting up anytime soon.

The ground shook as the gate rumbled open but neither of them paid it any heed as they focused on the man. His blood pooled out of his legs, his teeth bared as he panted in pain. Crimson dragged her arm up, her fingers meeting her gloved palm as she summoned something. He grunted, and then toppled over as a breath left him.

He didn’t move again, eyes blankly staring up at the domed ceiling.

West reached for her before she could budge and tugged her close, sharing the air between them. Her arms shook from her back to back fights as she blinked up through argent tears at him.

“How are you here?” She asked, sniffling as he cupped her face with the hand covered in the least amount of blood splatters.“And where is my brother? Is he safe? Did anyone harm him, because if they did then I will march up to the castle, I don’t care how long it takes or who they are, but I will shove one of my daggers right up their a-”

“Cobalt isfine.” He smiled gently down at her as he cut her off. “Rook has him secure in the room under my orders. It appears that even though the royalassholeis in charge by every right, that some people still remain loyal.”

She let out a sigh of relief, her shoulders caving in. “Thank the Saints for that at least.” Her scan travelled over him towards the crowd searching for something. “Altivar is gone.”

“Most likely scuddled out off here like the little bug he is after I arrived.” He commented, turning to peer at the hundreds of faces that began to file out through the single staircase, shoving and pushing their common folk in order to get out first.