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“It’s Crimson, correct?” The Empress suddenly interrogated out of nowhere.

“It is, your Majesty.”

“Oh, none of that.” Osira scoffed with an air of disdain. “I hate that level of praise and sticking noses up where they don’t belong. I’m sure our darling Saint has told you who I am, as he’s informed me of who you are and why you’re really here instead of that poppycock excuse he’s telling others. Muse or Osira will work just fine.”

He hadn’t told her anything regarding another Saint in the palace, but the book made it clear enough who she was.

“Alright.” She avoided the urge to bow or curtsy before the woman in some sign of respect.

“I hope to see you at the ball in a week’s time. It will be an event not to miss. I think some revelry will do you some good, after so long below the Bronze Gate.”

“I’ll try to be there.”

The Empress placed both hands on her hips, glaring at her with a gaze that almost felt intrusive, if it hadn’t been for the soft bit around the edges that reminded Crimson of a mother’s love. “See to it that youare.Even if that means I have tocoercethe captain into bringing you along as his date, I’ll make sure that you enjoy the evening.”

“I don’t think he’d enjoy being told what to do very much.” She winced at the thought of Osira shoving a stiff-backed West into the hall and urging him to dance.

“Which is precisely why someone needs to. If it won’t be you, dear Crimson, then it’ll have to be me. That Saint has refrained from living for far too long. It’s time he sampled life and the wonders it offers us all, even if we may live forever.”

“Why?” She asked.

Osira didn’t need any further explanation, she understood the one worded question well enough. “Because for people likeus, who have eternity and beyond, he feels as though there is no point to it all. To experience and love and laugh, only for it to be taken away in a matter of years, decades, centuries.”

Crimson chewed on the inside of her lip. “But that’s a terrible way to look at life. ”

“Exactly.” She agreed, a little melancholic melody that waved in musical ways, clear in her lilting voice. “Which is why I think this little living experiment might be good for him. He already seems to care a great deal for you and your brother, even if he’s only known you a short while. A word of advice, Crimson. North doesn’t easily attach himself to anything or anyone. I’ve never seen him latch onto anything or anyone before.”

It almost sounded like a warning, more so than a piece of advice. Even in Muse’s tone that reminded Crimson of a breathy flute.

“If you don’t plan on sticking around for the long run, then don’t bother getting to know him at all. If you leave, it won’t be easy for him.”

“He’s saving Cobalt’s life.” Crimson declared. “I owe him mine in return. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Good.” Osira said softly. “But it might be a hard road ahead, if you plan on getting him to open up.”

Neither one of them seemed to notice the fly that buzzed in the air, right above them as it overheard every single thing.

Seventeen

Two days came and went, and still West left her on her own. He didn’t return to the apartments, nor sleep in the bed. Crimson visited her brother on the second morning, to check in and make sure he was doing alright with the transition into the palace. Cobalt was fast asleep when she came across him but Leysa assured her that he was more than fine. She took a small sample of his blood with a thin needle that left a tiny, practically invisible scab and explained all of the various methods she was using to figure out what illness kept him in his cruel clutches.

Crimson understood about half of it all.

There was still much of the castle left to explore, which is what she did. There wasn’t much else to do, other than wait for West so that she could show him the image in the book, and ask his opinion on Osira’s advice. His portrait kept her company, even if it wasn’t as warm as he truly was. She didn’t miss him, because she didn’t know him, but there was a part of her that ached to see him.

She’d never been lonely before, but she was now.

The absence of her brother lingered around her like a haunting ghost, even if she was able to see him whenever she wanted to. But the large bed, without a second figure to curl up against in the late hours of the night, was the worst part of it.

The instigator of her isolation.

When Crimson turned down the first floor to see what she could find there, she ran into a familiar figure.

Prince Altivar Talon.

It was only a matter of time before she came face to face with him. Now or never, she supposed.

There was a different appearance he held here instead of the one he wore well in the Pits. But she supposed that all had different identities when it came to their second life revolving around the Blades of Blood. A chance to play someone else for a day or two, to leave their troubles and worries behind.