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W est experienced the tremor that vibrated down her lithe figure as he held her captive within the bathing chamber. Pressed against her like this, there was no mistaking her for anything other than a woman.

It stirred something inside of him.

Her bag immediately fell from her grasp as he wrapped his hand around her mouth and held her firm against his chest. He couldn’t risk her screaming and alerting anyone nearby. Her shallow pants were hot in his palm as he continued to hold her there. Even if there was a layer of dark grey fabric that separated them, thanks to her cowl that kept the bottom portion of her face covered. He didn’t raise any sort of steel to her pale throat, nor did he threaten her.

There was no need for that after all.

“I’m going to let you go, but don’t go anywhere and don’t yell for help, alright?” West softly announced to her, requiring her agreement before unclamping her mouth. Her head dipped in silent confirmation of his ask, and he slowly released the pressure on her face .

“Who are you?” Crimson questioned with a timid voice that belonged to a spotted doe, a frightened fawn.

It didn’t suit her.

She didn’t turn around, as if looking at her attacker would send a jolt of pure panic into her heart. He knew better, considering who she was, and who she was related to.

Instead, he answered her. “West.”

“You!” She flipped around them, even if the space wasn’t large enough for both of them to be in here. It was a single room, with a toilet and a sink. “Why are you here? I don’t understand.”

He grinned down at her.

She wasn’t much shorter than he was, but there was still enough lack of height to make a difference.

“Because I knew who you were from the moment we spoke this evening.” He toyed with her hood, pulling the cowl that covered the bottom portion of her features down. Without it, it was clear as day that she was a woman.

Well, a young one at least.

She didn’t look older than twenty-four, but even half Saints aged much slower than most mortals. He assumed she was a few years older than that, as all Saints- regardless of their immortality, appeared younger.

Crimson angled herself even closer to him, if that was possible. As he played with the charcoal scarf, her fingers danced towards his wrists. He knew what she was about to do, and was curious to see how her powers worked. They were different for all Saints. It wasn’t a guarantee either that a lesser Saint would gain the same sort of gifts as their parent, if they’d be completely different like Altivar and Muse.

West let her try to control him.

Clearly, she didn’t know .

She tugged her gloves off, one at a time and tucked them into her high belt. Her delicate fingers brushed against his powerful points in the joints, finding the soft veins that pumped blood from his neverending heart.

“Westley Saint,” She almost purred his full name as she tilted her gentle chin upwards, as if she would kiss him and quietly said, “What do you intend to do about it?”

“Nothing, at the moment.” He acted into it, as if the magic that he didn’t feel a single ounce of was actually affecting him, and she could do whatever she wished. He would be lying to himself if he said he wasn’t leaning towards letting her anyways.

There was something about her that pulled him in, even if it wasn’t her heart-altering, effecting magic. Something that he obviously couldn’t ignore, but he would try for the sake of avoiding heartbreak. Of avoiding death.

West didn’t particularly want to die.

At least not yet.

“Good. I’d appreciate it if we could keep this little secret between us then.” Crimson batted her lashes up at him, pretending to be the alluring girl that men most likely saw when looking at her. It wasn’t a hard sell, especially when the girl looked like she would weigh one hundred and eighty pounds soaking wet.

Men only saw what they wanted to see, not look past the pretty surface to the deadly thing brewing beneath. And he wasn’t blind. There was something there, lurking inside of her that was a menacing, murderous thing. Beautiful, too.

“What will you give me in return?” West was intrigued now. “After all, keeping a secret like this, it’s dangerous.”

No it wasn’t.

He was toying with her, like a hungry cat and its poor dinner. But he wanted to see just how far she would go to keep her secret away from the prying eyes and delving ears of the men all around them.

Crimson broke character to chew on the inside of her lip, tucking it between both rows of teeth.

West found it adorable.

“What do you want?” She looked nervous, which only made him want to chuckle. He avoided it, retaining his own charade of the lovesick male that she could control.

There was one thing that he could come up with off the top of his mind, one thing that would make her fumble and toss aside this flirtatious, blushing character.

“I’ll settle for a chaste kiss.”

“A... a kiss?” Her eyes widened, and he could see the inside circle of brown and gold within the outer ring of olive green. Stunning.

“Don’t tell me it’s your first one.” He teased, a sable eyebrow rising up.

“No!” She instantly insisted.

West didn’t believe her. “Then what’s the issue?”

Crimson almost made a face at him, one that would have caused him to actually laugh out loud if he was correct about the withering emotion behind it. She came closer as her hand ran up his arm, leaving singular shivers to skitter over his skin.

New stars burst inside of him, exploding and flashing white colourful fires. The ivory moon curved around him, ushering him closer to her.

That was new.

No one ever made him feel alive like this before.

He tucked that observation away for later.

Especially as her hand found his chest and began to circle over his heart. His pulse quickened, and he knew she immediately picked up on it because she stumbled in her romantic wench once more. Crimson looked deep into his eyes, she went to kiss him.

Her lips halted only a centimeter from his as she uttered, “Keep my secret, without the additional clause. You know you want to, handsome .”

West’s throat bobbed.

Why in the Saints name did she have so much of an effect on him? She wasn’t supposed to, since he was a full Saint and she was only a lesser one. And yet there was an undeniable thirst in the back of his mouth, a tingle on his tongue and a spark in his soul as she looked at him like that.

“Fine.” He mumbled, not sure if the baritone voice that came out was the correct one or not. He couldn’t unfix his sight from her tempting mouth.

Did he want to kiss her after all?

Something akin to mortal excitement bubbled up and he couldn’t ignore it, finding fascinating new feelings rising up.

Crimson let out what seemed to be a breath of relief and turned to exit the chamber before he could say another word. But as she reached for the handle, unlocking it, his hand slammed it back closed.

She jumped.

“Little lesson there, Heartstrings . Lesser Saints can’t affect full Saints. I suggest you do some research before attempting to change the emotions of just anyone.” West rumbled into her ear. “Nice try though.”

She gaped at him. “ You’re a Saint?”

“Yes.” He flicked a stray piece of hair out of his sight line. It wasn’t like his hair was long, since it was shorn close to his head in the back. But the front strands like to test his patience in steamy situations. “The Northern Star, before you need to satiate your curiosity. But as you’ve been one of the only people to ever look at me that deep, I’m sure you’ve already figured it out in your smart mind.”

“What do you want with me, Westley Saint?” Crimson dropped all pretence and brought her tone down an octave, as if the higher pitch was something she only used to sell the image.

In his opinion, this one suited her far better.

He would have been surprised that she didn’t grovel and scrape like most did when they found out that he was one of the six Saints of Hisaith, had her father not been the most notorious one himself. She likely wasn’t impressed by him, which only plucked his interest even further.

He lifted a finger into the space between them. “First of all, it’s West. No West ley and drop the last name. Westley is only for those who earn it. Second of all, Red Lyric needs to disappear. For good.”

She waited for him to explain, to go on and tell her the reasons behind his demand.

West sighed and let go of the handle as soon as he was sure she wouldn’t try to escape before he got this part over and done with. “Prince Altivar Talon is searching for you. Well, for who he thinks you are. He-”

“Does he know?” She interrupted him before he could continue. “Did he send you to come after me? Why does he want me?”

“No.” He lowered a finger to her lips in order to quiet her down before she could ask a mountain’s worth of questions. She stopped talking. “But it’s not for anything good. I’m quite sure that it’s for nefarious purposes and until I can figure out what those purposes are, I’m not going to tell him about you either. But until I can do that, Lyric has to vanish. ”

“I can’t do that.” Crimson began to untie the ribbon that kept smaller wefts of hair out of her face. “I can’t just abandon the only means of making money that I have. Working for Roland isn’t nearly enough to cover the cost of living.” She brushed her hands through it and thin bangs fell to her eyebrows.

Another clever, pretty thing to hide her true identity.

“What sort of lifestyle are you living that the tips from these vile bloodhounds aren’t supporting you?” There wasn’t any sort of judgement in his resonance, he made sure of that. Not after his earlier mistake that made her abandon him with an angry flash in her eyes.

“My brother, Cobalt. He came into this world early. And because of that, because we were poor, are poor- he falls ill often. Enough that I constantly have to provide certain medications for him or he’ll die. Medicine isn’t cheap, especially for those of us who live in the Bronze Gate.” She untucked the braid at the back of her head, letting it tumble down her back.

West enjoyed the vibrant, unusual colour of it. The way it remained stick-straight even after being pinned up for what he assumed had been hours in a plait. The way it contrasted her pale skin and green eyes, the almost wine shade of it. Fitting for her name, both of them.

“I see.” He understood her conundrum, but he also couldn’t very well let Lyric make another appearance. Altivar was far cleverer than he let on. It would only be a matter of time before the Prince uncovered the truth for himself. Especially if she kept working as one of Roland’s serving girls and fighting in the Blades as the infamous Red Lyric.

“I can’t just quit either. Grimm, he’d be suspicious if I didn’t turn up for my next bout.” Crimson argued. “He’s the one who pays me, and I can’t afford to lose his graces. If I’m not able to find another job that compensates as well as competing, there’s no telling if he’ll let me back in after I scorn him. I can’t fail Cobalt.”

West considered the part with the owner of the Pits already. “Let me deal with Grimm. I’ll be able to get him to let you go without repercussions.”

“Because he’s the Warrior?” She cross examined him with a cross expression. “It’s not that difficult to figure out, if one looks close enough.”

Smart girl.

“You’re far more cunning than you let on. Is the dainty girl just a farce then?” West smirked towards the side. “Because you pull it off fantastically if it is.”

“Less people looking at me if I don’t share the same traits with a fierce opponent.” She shrugged and started to unbutton her leathers. Silver hooks kept her in and he was about to stop her when he saw the cloth she wore under it.

“I’ll make you a deal.” He began, already knowing how much it would cost him but offering it up all the same. This was a bigger matter at stake than sharing his room in the palace. “The healers in the palace are some of the finest I’ve ever seen. They’ve been able to handle and treat almost everything that comes in the door. Bring your brother there, and I’ll pay for his costs.”

Crimson stopped fidgeting with her clothes. “I can’t just leave him there in an unknown place. If he wakes up and doesn’t recognize it, then he’ll have a panic attack and it could detriment his health even more.”

He held up a hand. “You didn’t let me finish. I was going to tell you to come to the palace as well. I have a room there, close to the healing ward that you can stay in.”

She blinked, as if she didn’t hear him properly. “I can’t just live in your rooms, with you. ”

He tucked his smile away at her flustered face. “You can, and you will. I’m hardly ever in my rooms anyways, thanks to the title of Captain of the Watch. Nothing untoward will happen if we do share a bed, I promise you.”

He didn’t miss the crimson tint to her cheeks, over her nose, around her ears. “Take the deal, Crimson. It’s the best chance for your brother and it kills two birds with one stone. It’s rare that I would sleep there anyways, and I always have a spare room at the Compass if it truly makes you that uncomfortable. But your brother needs all the help he can get and I’m able to offer it to you at little to no cost, for both of ourselves.”

She looked up at him earnestly, with tears puddling at the corners of her eyes and in her waterline. “And all I would have to do is stop pretending to be Red Lyric? To not enter in anymore fights and lay down my daggers?”

He nodded. “That’s it. I can find work for you in the castle if you’re so determined to stay away from being idle, but you won’t have to sacrifice your life in order to help him. What do you say?”

The girl pulled her gaze away from him, contemplating every side to it as she pulled off her jacket and tucked it into the satchel. She grabbed for a corset, tucking it under her waist and lacing it up with impressive speed.

“I think there’s no downside to this.”

“There isn’t.” West assured her. He knew where her mind must have gone because he said, “I know that other Saints, like the Imp and the Warrior, only do things that best suit them, but I’m not like that. This isn’t something that suits me, benefits me , but everyone. Because if Altivar does what I think he’s going to do, then it won’t be in anyone’s best interest.”

Crimson held her hand out to him. “Okay. I will agree to it all. But on one condition. ”

West motioned for her to elucidate before he agreed on anything.

“Cobalt needs help now. He moves into the palace tonight .” She stared up at him, determination blazing as bright as a star in the midnight sky. He admired that flash of confidence and negotiation within her.

It was a comet, wrapped in fire and stardust.

Alluring, attractive, significant.

“That’s perfectly fine with me. I’ll even help you move your things from the Compass as soon as tonight’s events are over. Finish out your shift with Roland and I’ll come find you before everyone leaves.” West took her hand and shook it, his lips turning upwards. “I’m glad you agreed, Heartstring s.”

She scowled, yanking her hand from his grasp roughly. “Don’t call me that.”