Page 22 of The Ballad of a Bard
T here was a painful clench of his gut as he tried to concentrate on the map in front of him, instead of the female who was half bent over the table. She held a magnifying glass, roving it over the continent with an eagle eye. West contemplated setting his own down, of turning to her and softly explaining what Leysa told him about her brother.
That Cobalt might not survive whatever was killing him. That they had no clue what it even was, or a solution to heal him. Nothing good, that was the information he had for her. But what good would it do to tuck her into the fold? To let her know that her brother could die and there was absolutely nothing that she could do to prevent it, stop it?
None.
But his righteousness struck him like a shining sword on a steel shield, relentlessly urging him to tell her.
Because she should know.
She should have the chance to process it, understand that there may come a time when her life wouldn’t have a sibling .
West let out a long suffering sigh.
This, this was why he never got involved with mortals. It only confirmed his beliefs on the matter, only solidified his desire to shut down any bubbling emotions that stirred within him.
Crimson glanced up at him, holding the magnificent glass up. Within it, he could see the individual shades of green and brown, of gold and flicks of grey around the edges.
He couldn’t help it; his lip curved upwards.
“I can see all forty of your lashes when you do that.”
She blinked and it was like a massive spider crawled onto the lens, taunting him. “I can see the stars in your eyes. I thought they were just specks of amber, but they’re all sorts of colour.” She breathed out and held it even closer. Her body was mostly on the table now, but she didn’t seem to care.
“Oh?” West mused, leaning towards her. There was an undeniable draw that cursed him when it came to her. “What do they look like?”
Crimson frowned, tilted her chin to the side and lowered the glass. “You’ve never looked in a mirror before?”
He shook his head in denial. “I don’t care for the vanity of humans.”
“Well you should.”
He should tell her.
He wouldn’t.
At least not for now.
Perhaps after the ball.
“And why’s that?” West questioned instead as he pushed those annoying thoughts out of his head, tilting backwards until he slouched against the wooden railing of the chair that kept him upright. Any closer, and there wouldn’t have been air to breathe between them .
Boundaries , he reminded himself.
“I’m sure you’ve been told that you’re very attractive.” Crimson found something else to look at, as if the notion of telling him that he was pleasing to the eye, was mortally mortifying. “You should enjoy that part of yourself, even if it’s only in small doses.”
“Does that mean that you often stare at your reflection?” He rocked back and forth, bouncing on one of his black boot heels. The chair creaked with each up and down.
“We never had a mirror back in the apartment. It wasn’t something we could afford.” She explained and fell away from the table.
“What about in the Pits?”
“I didn’t have much time for such things like beauty and vanity, West.” She rolled her eyes at him. “Not between hiding my secret identity and keeping my shifts with Roland.”
“Pity.”
It tumbled out of his mouth before he even thought about it.
“Pity?” Her chin angled upwards in curiosity. “Why?”
He shrugged, “Because you’re beyond gorgeous. Even without the bit of Saint power flowing through you, you’re quite beautiful.”
She was.
In truth, she was one of the most stunning things he’d laid his eyes on, including the heartbreaking beauty of Muse and the serendipitous siren that was Dream. But Crimson- there was bubbling youth, eternal laughter, fierce determination, sparkling will and a fighter beneath it all. There was the joy that coated her skin like a fine layer of snow, the light that refused to dim, even if sorrow claimed her, and the way she smi-
West cut his train of thinking off before it could damage him. He silently cursed at himself for even allowing that tendril of thought, for even going there. Any sign of it, any slight plunge into that mindset, and it could be over for him in an instant.
Her entire face turned vermillion and she coughed, covering the majority in it. He almost laughed at how it matched her hair.
“Has no one ever told you anything remotely similar, Heartstrings?” West braced his weight on his elbows, folding his fingers together and resting his head on the platform.
“Only Altivar.”
His glee dispersed almost instantly like the night without a single star to be found for miles. “That doesn’t count. The Prince can find beauty in everything. I wouldn’t be surprised if he enjoyed a piece of dirt for the possibility that there could be gold within it.”
“Then no. No one’s ever told me anything like that before.” Crimson fell back into her chair, sucking her cheeks in with a popping sound. “Not that I really need anything like that. I’m not a strutting peacock who needs affirmations regarding my looks. It’s not something that’s massively important to me.”
“What is?” He picked at the side of the map, starting to roll it up. He’d pawed over it three times and still couldn’t make himself be interested in it. “Other than your brother, of course.”
Her mouth opened and closed, as if that was precisely what she was going to respond with. He took a smidge of delight in the fact that he knew her so well already. Crimson contemplated heavily, leaving a blistering minute of pure silence.
“I guess fighting was.”
“You enjoyed that?” Shock filtered through him. “Killing people for the sake of glory, of money?”
“No.” She bit out in his direction. “ Never killing. I hated when the rules changed. I hated it when Grimm took over and made it so that no one could compete unless they were the only ones to walk out of the ring alive. It was barbaric and brutal and savage. My friend died because of Grimm and his foul additions. I will never forgive him for that, for wanting more bloodshed, greed and vanity in a world that already suffers from far too much of it.”
He felt the puff of relief settle over him as she denied the horrible reality that has been her past. There was a part of him that didn’t understand why humans killed each other.
For money, for glory, for sport.
For anything.
“It was war .” West uttered quietly.
“Yes.” Crimson said. “As was he.”
“So what part about the Blades of Blood did you enjoy then? If not the killing.” He admired the fire that sprung to life when she defended herself, her hard decisions in the hard life she’d been stuck with. Not many would allow anyone to push them on it, to delve further into their reasonings, let alone a Saint.
“It didn’t matter who I was. It didn’t matter where I came from. All that mattered in that moment, was what I was capable of. Of the talents that came from me, because of me. In a matter of a few seconds, minutes, I could change my entire life with a few swipes of a knife.” She opened up to him, shoving the map off to the side. “I didn’t have to worry about eating that day, about bringing the necessary means home for Cobalt. I was there, in that ring, and I was anyone and no one all at once. I could be whatever I chose, whomever I chose to be.”
She inhaled sharply and went on.
“They didn’t know that I was a twenty-six year old girl, who’d been left by both of her parents, who had to grow up when I wasn’t ready. I wasn’t someone with a massive weight on my shoulders.”
Because she had to take it all.
There was no one to help her.
No mother to wipe her tears away and kiss her head when a day turned bad. No mother to tuck her into bed and make sure her belly was full each and every meal. No father to provide for her, to take care of the family as Heartache should have. And so that left her. Left her to grow up faster than she should have. For her to put aside the role of sister and become a mother, a provider, everything within the last eight years.
His own heart ached for her, his waterlines burned and his chest felt tighter than a noose around a sentenced neck. He hated this world, hated how mean and cruel and savage it had been to her. Wished he had found her earlier, taken them both in sooner.
“Who were you?” West asked hoarsely.
“I was Red Lyric. I was a hero to all, a champion that people wanted. That they needed.” Crimson huffed out a sob disguised as an exhale. “I could be what I needed. Regardless of what I am.”
She wiped at her eyes, flicking wetness off.
“Crimson-” He started but she merely lifted her hand and cut him off.
“I’m not telling you this for the pity you’re showing. I’m telling you this so you can better understand why I hate my father. So that when we find him, you can do whatever you need to do with him. But once we locate him, once we stand in front of him, I’m done. I don’t want him in our life, I don’t need him. Cobalt and I have been alone for the last eight years and we’re perfectly fine. We’ve been fighting together, because that’s what we are. Fighters.”
“One look at either of you, and it’s as clear as day.” He admitted with an ounce of respect and admiration for the girl that had a raging fire burning bright inside of her.
It was the very light of her soul, the reason she glowed to the point that she could have been the brightest star in the midnight sky. And he realised that that was what made her stand out to him. That that was what called his very core, his very existence to her.
Of course he’d been drawn to her.
He was the Northern Star, and she was the most lucent, radiant thing around.
West swallowed, trying to soothe his racing heart.
The one that pittered and pattered uncontrollably, as if he were a sandglass that counted down the time until the very end. As if once the beats stop, the sands halted, something would be over and something new would begin.
Of what, he didn’t know.
And he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to.
Crimson looked up towards the high ceiling of the map room, finding interest in the way that the painters had created a massive map of Hisaith all along the borders, rimming the room in a splendid recreation of the continent.
“Thank you.”
The girl dropped her gaze back down to him in a second. “For what?”
He stood, pushing the chair back in and walking around the table to her. His knee met the ground as he knelt before her, tenderly taking her hands in his and held them to her heart, pushing his own against it.
“For sharing this delicate, vulnerable part of yourself with me. It’s an honour to see it, along with whatever other sides you wish to show me. I can’t imagine that it’s easy for you to put your trust, your faith in anyone. The people you’ve loved have let you down, and the very last thing I want to do is become another one on your list of enemies.”
She smiled, and he could see the gentle reaction inside of it. “Oh, West. I could never make you my enemy. You’re too good for that. Too right , to ever do something to put you on the list. ”
“Please don’t hold me up that high.” He tugged his hands out from under hers. “I’m a Saint. I’m immortal. I’ve been alive for hundreds of years. There are things that I’ve done in those years, things that would turn your blood to ice if you knew about them.”
Crimson curled her fingers inwards, as if she missed the heat of them, of him. He tried his damnedest to ignore it, to douse the little flicker of emotion away.
He shouldn’t care about things like that.
Not from her, not from a half Saint.
She would die and he wouldn’t.
West reminded himself over and over.
The tiny ember sizzled and hissed out
“We’ve all done bad things. It’s inevitable. But it doesn’t mean that we’re bad people. Regardless of if we have immortal blood running through our veins or not.”
“I am not a good person, Crimson.” He declared. “I’ve never once thought myself to be one, either. I’m not black, I’m not white. I’m grey, if that makes any sense.”
“I know what you mean. But you’re not grey either, West.”
“Oh?” He lifted an eyebrow, curious to know what colour she would name him as instead.
“You’re gold.” Her finger poked at his bicep.
Once, twice.
Then her face broke out into the most brilliant smile that he’d ever seen. Suddenly the ember pushed past any water barrier that he could ever summon to put it out, and became a Saints-damned inferno. It roared in defiance of his denial, licked the inside of him raw and he staggered back a step at the inferno that poured throughout him.
“I-I have things I need to do.” He muttered as a poor apology. “We can continue this search for your father after the ball. I- I need to get down to the training pits and see to my duties. I must have lost track of time.”
Her face dropped and she glanced down at her feet. “I see. Well, I don’t want to get you in trouble. Go then. I’ll finish up here and see if I can find any clues towards where we can find Heartache.”
He wanted to reach out to her, to comfort her. To take her into his arms and promise that it wasn’t her, but himself that caused the issue. But West did none of that. Instead he gathered up his collection of maps and slipped them back into their designated places. One by one, he sorted them all away until there wasn’t any on his side left. Only the ones that she still had yet to puruse.
“I’ll see you before bed.” He shot in her direction, not daring to take her in one last time before he left. West didn’t know if he could and leave her there after. Didn’t know if he could stomach the look of disappointment that she held in her pretty features.
“I might be asleep by then. You tend to come in quite late.”
“Duties.” West said.
“The loyal dog.” Crimson murmured bitterly. “Always at your master’s heels.”
The comment struck him, harder than it should have but he understood her anger toward him. So without another word, because he didn’t trust himself to say anything to her, West flipped on his heel and left her there, all by herself.
And he felt utterly miserable for it.