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Death.

“Are you headed to the Pits for another shift with Roland?” Westley came around the counter, tucking the key ring back into his black trousers. He casually propped an elbow against thedesk and leaned as he took her in. He jerked his chin towards her satchel and she bobbed her chin.

A little too fast to seem normal.

His looks didn’t help the anxious roar of trembling anticipation that tumbled about her stomach like clothes in a washtub. He was the sort of handsome that made blushing girls stumble over their words, spilling more details than previously intended. The kind that she needed to be extra careful around, considering who he was and who he was close with. Crimson made a hasty decision to leave before she unfolded far too much to him. It was obvious that her body reacted to him, with the stained flush that sent her own heart into a wild tizzy. Better to leave now, than to pursue something that was only a possibility, not a guarantee.

She made for the door before the extra minutes transformed into hours and she was late. Roland wouldn’t be happy if she missed her starting time by two shifts in a row. After already not showing up for another.

Crimson waved in farewell, hoping that would be the end to the conversation. “It’s going to be a busy night, so I should head out.”

His next words stopped her quick departure.

“Because the Red Lyric is making another appearance?”

Her blood turned to chilling ice, and it slank down her long spine as she slowly rotated on her boots to face him. Her mind rushed over all the possible answers, settling on one that allowed her to avoid the truth but tell no lies. She hated lying, and wanted to avoid doing so for as long as possible.

Crimson said, “Yes. He’s a popular attraction. Many come from all over the city to see him fight.”

“Have you seen him fight?” The male questioned, dragging a hand through his umber locks. They were so dark brown that she would almost classify them as black. But he was a gorgeousgolden brown everywhere else, save for his piercing eyes. There was a scar along his neck, diagonally if he shifted just right and his cream shirt moved with him.

She wondered what it was from.

Wondered what might make someone want to hurt him like that. With the way it was fixed over his jugular, it seemed like a fatal slash, or at least an attempt at one. Him standing here before her proved that it failed.

“Occasionally. It’s hard to focus on the Blades when I’m avoiding running into people and selling ale and nuts for the entirety of the night.” She answered truthfully again. The best lies were often made from segments of the truth.

“And being spilled on?” He playfully winked at her and pushed off the counter in a fluid way. “I can imagine you narrowly miss several situations like that on the daily.”

She did. And usually her skills in the ring came in handy with that, slipping and sliding to the side and barely missing any hit. But when a handsome man was involved, her focus ignored her instincts completely.

“Thank you for that, again.” Crimson couldn’t help the faint curl of her lips as she blushed. He was very,veryattractive. “It would have made a mess of me, otherwise.”

“Other than running this establishment and being on the Watch, saving damsels in distress is a specialty of mine.” West opened the front door and held it for her, motioning for her to go first. She walked out and he followed. “I’m headed to the Bronzed Goblet as well. I’ll accompany you.”

He wore a grey bag at his hip, attached to his belt with an additional strap over his shoulder. A sword was attached to his left side, sheathed in black.

She didn’t know what to say to fill the space of conversationhe clearly left open between them as they walked side by side down the cobblestone street. But she didn’t need to, because he started to speak again.

“You live with your mother, right?”

Crimson felt her mouth go dry. “No. Not anymore, at least. She died giving birth to my brother. It’s just the two of us, now. You should have my brother on the agreement, since I updated the information myself once he was born.”

“I did know about your brother. I must have missed the part about your mother.” His handsome face fell, thick eyebrows knitting together above his nose. “I’m sorry to hear that. How long ago was this?”

There was guilt behind the constellations in his gaze, as if he hated that he wasn’t in touch with the people who rented from him. As if he wished all the power in the world to let him take on the Spinning Compass and only the Spinning Compass. For a second, Crimson wondered if he didn’t choose the life of a guard.

“A little over eight years ago.”

West seemed to tense, as if the news meant something to him. “And your father? Was he never around to help provide for you?”

“He left when I was eighteen. When Cobalt was born, and my mother died in his stead.” A trigger of pain tore through her as she thought about their mother. There wasn’t a day that passed where she didn’t miss her.

“I see.” He said quietly. “It’s just you then, taking care of you both?”

“Yes.”

West rubbed at his chiselled chin. There was barely a layer of hair that curved over his lip and met with the hair in front of his ears. “Please don’t take this the wrong way, I’m merely looking to satiate my curiosity. But if it’s just you earning the money, thenhow are you able to afford the rent?”