Page 21 of The Ballad of a Bard

W hen he appeared back to their shared room, he found her pacing back and forth in his corner office. There was something crumpled up in her hands, firmly grasped between her fingers. He paused, quietly closing the door behind him.

“What’s wrong?”

Crimson stopped and rotated towards him. Her pretty features mulled something over, and it seemed for a moment as if she wouldn’t tell him whatever it was. But then she approached him silently and held out her arm. He took the withered parchment out and unfolded it from the mashed ball she’d shaped it into. It was slightly damp, as if her nerves were uncontrollable. He didn’t mind as he strode for his desk and set it flat on the counter. West smoothed each corner out, one by one, until he could see what was plainly written.

A threat.

He froze, rereading it.

And again .

And again.

“Who sent this to you?” He asked, glancing towards her. She crossed her arms over her chest, in a defensive position.

“I don’t know. It was here when I woke up this morning, with no name or anything to indicate who could have sent it. Other than the initial.” She pointed towards the bottom of the page and he took another look at it. “Could whoever this is, really hurt my brother?”

Fear laced her voice, concern painted her features and worry struck his heart with a well-placed jab as he took another look at the note. There was a wish to console her, to wrap his arms around her and hold her as she relaxed. He wished he could tell her that he knew who the note had come from, to ease her concerned mind.

“I want to say no, but I truly don’t know.” West let out a breath and swiped the parchment off the table. “I’ll post a guard alongside Cobalt’s bed, however, to help ease your concern.” He tore it apart, tossing the scraps into his wastebasket by his desk’s edge. “And rest assured, Leysa won’t let anything happen to him under her scrutinising care.”

Crimson chewed on her lip, her fingers tapping against her defined bicep. She wasn’t large, but there was more muscle on her than he normally saw in any females other than Satori. “Who would know that we’re looking for my father?”

“Did you mention to anyone here that we’re searching for him?” He crossed over to the chair and plopped down, setting his elbows across the wood.

“Osira walked into the library as I was reading a book about the Saints. She offered up some advice about finding him but said that you already let her know why I was here. The real reason, anyways.” She corrected herself. “But the Empress doesn’t seem the type to send something ominous like that. ”

“No,” West agreed. “She doesn’t. I don’t think that there is a violent bone in her body, Saint or no Saint.”

Crimson hopped onto his desk, tucking her legs under her and staring directly at him. “You don’t think it’s Altivar, do you?”

He scoffed. “The Prince may be sure of himself, and willing to do just about anything, but even I don’t think he’d stoop to this level of lowness. It’s too petty, too dirty for him.”

She groaned loudly, letting her head fall into her awaiting palms. “This is horrible. How are we supposed to find my father, keep this facade up, and protect Cobalt all at the same time?”

He chuckled but understood her worry. “Not good at multitasking, then I take it?”

“Terrible, as a matter of fact.” She mumbled.

West let his arms fall, meeting the wood surface. “We’ll figure it out, Crimson. Nothing bad is going to happen to your brother. It’s most likely just someone’s wretched idea of a taunt, nothing more. They know that you and your brother are under my protection as my wards. Anyone with common sense, especially anyone who knows who I am, won’t try anything.”

She didn’t peek up from her arms.

West sighed, allowing the small smile for a mere second. “Come on.” He pushed out of his chair as the fabric creaked, standing to his full height and offering a hand towards her.

“Where are we going?” Her legs dangled off the surface as she untucked them. Her fingers brushed against his and the cool curve of the moon sliced through him at the contact. West tugged her off his desk and motioned for her to follow. He dropped her hand once her feet hit the carpet, flexing his palm as if he could still sense that rampant tingling.

“To the healing wards. To visit Cobalt and so I can show you that he’s perfectly safe within these walls.” He opened the door and Crimson nearly skipped down the hall, as if she needed his permission to visit her sibling.

“Afterwards, we can start looking at maps of Hisaith for a better idea of where Heartache might be hiding.” He shoved his hands into his trousers, walking alongside her. “I think I have a general whereabout of where we might locate him.”

“I’m afraid I won’t be much help regarding his current whereabouts. The last time I saw him, Cobalt had just been born and my mother died.” She informed him with a melancholic resonance.

West hated the way she sounded when she spoke about her father. It was hatred and sorrow and love all bundled in one mess of emotion. It was desire and pity and fury that coated her tongue, her mouth when she talked about his absence. Her face always contorted into a painting of anger, of madness, of depression and remembrance that he wanted to smear with a caress of his thumb across the paint of her feelings. She was lovely, even then. But West enjoyed the way she shone so brilliantly that she could have been one of the brightest stars in the night, and preferred it to her dripping midnight blue.

His jaw twitched, and he tensed. “It’s never made sense why he left. Heartache, out of all the Saints, was completely devoted to his human lover. When we heard that she died, and he left you both behind, we were all flabbergasted that he returned to us.”

“I don’t understand it either.” But that was anger firming in her expression, her hands curling into fists.

He didn’t know how to help fix that missing part of her, if even bringing Heartache back would heal anything. There would still be that sticky residue of his abandonment within her that would remain for quite some time.

They walked in silence for a good while .

They passed the painted floors and floral verandas, turned down corners and strolled past the chequered tiles. There was a hum of activity in the air from the other servants that milled about the hallways, but he felt a strange tension building up with every second that no conversation flowed between them.

There was an obvious conflict warring within her as she gazed off somewhere in the distance, and he wondered if she was trying to think of something to say to him. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable per say, but it didn’t feel right to him. Not for them.

So he asked, “What do you think will be the first thing you say to him when you see him again?”

“You mean if I see him again?” Crimson glanced towards him as she brushed a strand of cranberry behind her ear. It was loose today, in a silky curtain that cut off at her shoulder blades.

“Not so certain that we’ll find him?” West didn’t blame her for her lack of certainty. The Saint was persnickety and could be very troublesome to find.

Crimson shook her head, folding her arms behind her back. “No. There’s no guarantee that we will. He could hear that we’re searching for him and go even deeper into hiding.”

Her lack of faith in him was astounding, even for the past mistakes he’d made. Even if he’d left, he’d been there for a large portion of her life. Enough so, that made West even more curious to understand his reasoning for leaving like that. There had to be more to the story that none of them knew. And if his prediction was correct, then Heartache left for their sake.

“I don’t think he will if he finds out that his daughter is searching for him.” He uttered quietly.

There was a storm of emotions brewing under her pale skin, one that she was desperately trying to hide but one that he was privy to, nonetheless. He could make out the struggling that overtook her, the way her hazel eyes hardened to the point of moss-covered stone.

West understood why, too.

In her mind, her father was an asshole for leaving them. For getting up without any explanation as to why, for abandoning them to fate’s cruel whims, even if she was half a Saint. For hurting her, he might have punched Heartache for it all, might still if they came across him. Because the immortal male in charge of hearts and the emotions tangled around them, of love and all the conflicting feelings that came with it, had broken his daughter’s heart. The already fragile heart of someone that West cared about.

And nothing, nothing, was more horrible to him.

He was curious if being half a Saint allowed for the same causes of death as a full did. If part of her died, the immortal part, when Heartache broke her heart.

Crimson fiddled with her fingers anxiously as they reached the healing ward doors and pushed in, holding it open for him to follow on her heels like an obedient hound. “I wonder if he’ll be awake. The last two times I tried to see him, he was fast asleep.”

“It would appear that you’ve found some luck then.” He pointed towards the small figure that sat upright on the mattress, a small dish of what appeared to be sweets in his hands.

Crimson bolted past him and he helped himself to a small smile. “Cobalt!” She tossed herself around him, arms squeezing tightly as her brother dropped the candy he’d been meticulously unwrapping. “You’re finally awake.”

She turned his head this way and that, searching for something. Her face contorted into a playful frown, a humming noise echoing from her throat.

“What are you doing?” Cobalt tried to squirm out of her firm grasp, failing. “You’re squishing my cheeks.”

“I don’ t see any drool. Just checking that you’re truly awake.” She grinned and planted a wet kiss atop his black hair. It was messy, mused from days sleeping in the cot but West assumed that it almost never had been neat.

“I could have told you that, you know.” He grumbled.

West approached the cot. “Good to see you up, Cobalt. Though, with the amount of sugar that Leysa clearly gave you, I doubt you’ll be sleeping anytime soon.”

He held the bowl up to him, offering any of the remaining pieces of candy. “She said I was being good and listening to her instructions when she ran some more tests. When she tried to stab me with that large needle, I didn’t want it. Leysa said I could have as much candy as I could possibly want, as long as I sat still for her.”

“You’d do anything for sweets, won’t you?” Crimson poked him, teasing as she swiped a sugar-coated blueberry from the bowl and popped it into her mouth.

“Pretty much.” He confirmed and shoved a handful into his own. His lips were stained red with what appeared to be raspberry juice, and flakes of the sweet stuck to the bottom one. Even his tongue had turned to an off shade of purple, as he showed both his sister and West.

West laughed at that.

“How are you feeling?” Her tone fell into a motherly one, concern warring against the youthfulness that she had every right to feel. “Any better?”

Cobalt thought about it, ate two more candies, and thought about it some more. “Better than I was last time, but not as well as the one week where we went swimming.” He clapped a hand over his throat, running up and down it. “My throat was itching, so Leysa gave me a huge spoonful of honey with some peppermint and lemon in it.” He made a disgusted face. “It didn’t taste good.”

“I’m sure you managed to make out like a bandit with more sweets afterwards.” West commented, winking down at him.

There was more colour in his usually gaunt face, more light in his eyes, but there was still a sickliness that surrounded the poor boy. His arms and legs were too thin, his chest looked to be caved in and his skin was nearly transparent.

He caught a shuffle out of the corner of his eye and turned towards the back of the room, finding Leysa. She ushered him to follow, ducking behind a privacy screen. He took one last look towards Crimson and her brother, momentarily enjoying the delight and joy she showed, letting go for once. Then he left, before his heart could make a foolish decision.

Leysa waited until he dropped the sheet behind him and glanced towards the two on the cot. “I’ve taken his blood, tested it for multiple illnesses, for poison. I’ve done physical scans, evaluations, had him take several medicinal tinctures, even recorded his sleep cycle and restroom habits. I’ve checked each bulk he coughs up, each blood clot and taken skin cells to see if perhaps the issue lay there.”

“You didn’t find anything.” He exhaled in disappointment. “ Damn it!” His teeth were clenched as he ran a hand over his forehead, boots clicking on the tiled floor as he paced a couple of inches.

She nodded shallowly. “Nothing. I have no idea why he falls ill so quickly. Unless it’s something to do with your sort.”

An idea popped into his head, wiggling out from the cracks between his mind like a fresh vine in the grass. One he desperately grabbed ahold of because the very last thing he wanted to see was Crimson’s soul as it shattered if Cobalt died.

“Is it possible that it’s related to his father being a Saint?” West had never heard of anything going wrong with sireing half Saints, but that didn’t mean that nothing could go wrong. It was certainly a possibility.

“I don’t understand what else it could be. I’ve expanded all of my medical knowledge on trying to figure out what could be ailing him.” She peered around the corner as a gale of laughter came from Crimson, followed by a younger, male giggle.

“Is there any way to know for certain?” He pushed.

“Find Heartache. I could test his blood if we had some, but I’m not sure what it would show me considering it’s a magical property. I’m assuming his mortal side and his immortal side aren’t settling well with the other. It’s rare, but it’s happened once before. A very long time ago.”

West inhaled deeply. “Just another reason to find the elusive Heartache.”

Leysa issued a warning before he rejoined them. “Hurry, West. He may be running out of time.”

He felt the colour leech from his bronzed skin. The words felt like a death sentence, even if it hadn’t come to pass. “This could kill him?”

“It very well could.”