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She’d never been anywhere besides Tazali, and up until him, never past the Silver Gate. And even then, she wouldn’t consider herself an expert traveller into the Silver Gate.

Valkrigge was notorious for their petty crimes, their gruesome murders, and all over uncontrolled chaos with unpredictable ends.

Suddenly Crimson wished that she’d brought her fighting knives, instead of the singular one attached to her hip that he’d given her. She’d left them behind for safe keeping, still tucked away in his drawer until Red Lyric could be completely retired without the fear of him resurfacing. There was always that overwhelming, lingering terror that she’d be shoved back into that role. West didn’t seem the type of person- Saint, to toss her out on her backside and leave them both defenceless, but shewas aware that his protection and help might not last forever.

Even if he would.

Now as they approached the closest inn with precaution and wariness, eying the sign that said they had rooms to rent, she was more than happy to have a living Saint by her side.

Thirty Nine

There was only one bed in the room.

West had paid for everything with his satchel of crowns that she’d returned back to his desk without him noticing, nor a single crown lighter. There had been no need to tell him since she hadn’t borrowed any money from him in order to get her father’s talisman. Which was fastly secured around her neck, tucked under her crimson doublet.

The innkeeper had counted the coins precariously in front of them, as if West would try to swindle her by adding pebbles to the bag to make it seem full instead of paying the full amount up front. When she was done, she tossed a wrought iron key towards them with a room number attached on a wrinkled slip of paper. It seemed that West kept the ruse of their relationship up however as the woman commented on how they suited each other well. He simply draped his arm over her shoulder, placed a light kiss on her cheek that ghosted on her skin and thanked her.

He made no move to deny it, so nor did she.

If West wanted to play that game, she wouldn’t fight it in the slightest.

So when they plodded up the single set of rickety stairs that could barely seem to hold their weight together, she was more than a bit delighted to see that there was only one bed. Not that she showed him that, of course. Because other than last night, West had continuously spent the night in the Spinning Compass and far away from her.

It hurt that he pretended like they hadn’t kissed, or done whatever that had been. But if the stupid Saint wasn’t going to bring it up, then she most certainly wasn’t going to be the first to do so.

The one bed was half the size of the one in the castle, but larger than the one that she and her brother had shared at the Compass. Which also meant, that unless West took the floor, that they would be practically atop the other. Crimson didn’t tell him that that particular idea was certainly alright with her.

He’d only crossed over the room after making sure the door locked and fading into the attached bathing room, latching the door behind him. She heard the water rushing a moment later and assumed that he was washing up after the salty spray of the sea water on their trip. Splashing followed, which indicated that he was dunking a rag into the water and washing his face, as well as the potential for other parts. She highly doubted that he’d submerge himself into a full bath whilst they shared the tiny space together.

Crimson shed her boots, letting them fall wherever they wanted to and plopped down on the bed. It wasn’t nearly as comfortable as any of West’s beds, but it was above the one that Cobalt and her shared. Of course that wasn’t saying much, as both were only a smidge about the rough surface of a boulder. Herback was more than grateful for the sinking feathers of West’s bed at the castle.

There was a remaining thought in her head, pawing at the very front like an impatient hound towards a door, needing to be let out. Crimson let it in, allowed it to expand as she thought over who had been sending her the threatening notes.

Could it have been Altivar?

There was no one else that she could conjure up that triggered suspicion. No one that was evenlookingfor Heartache. At least no one who made their actions known.

The door opened and West walked out, a faint layer of sheen to his golden skin as he brushed his hair back. “You look lost in thought.”

“I am.” She mumbled.

“Want to share?”

She spared a look towards him, scooting upwards on the bed until her back hit the thin headboard. It was barely more than a plank of weak wood, hardly taller than she was as she sat against it.

“Does Altivar have powers?”

He glanced at her, “Yes, but he rarely uses them.”

“I see.” Crimson tucked the inside of her lip into her teeth, gnawing at it. Who was C?

“Why?” He questioned as he crouched down and began to fumble with his round satchel. “Has he done something?”

“I think he might be the one that’s been leaving the threats.” She exhaled deeply, shutting her eyes. “I don’t know why, I can’t explain it, but I think it’s him.”

It was the way her senses alerted her to his presence whenever he was around her, the way that her heart slowed to a dull thrum and how her skin prickled to the point of near pain whenever he slank around the castle, nearing her. Nothing about it felt good,and she trusted her own instincts more than she would ever trust the suspicious heir.

“I could easily see it being him, but I also don’t want to fling accusations towards him when we get back. The very last thing I want to do is blame him, only to find out that we were entirely wrong.” He tossed his jacket over the close chair and lumbered over to her. “I don’t think you’re wrong, and I trust you. But we need proof first.”