Page 54 of The Ballad of a Bard
C rimson stared at the male across from her, unmoving and unwilling to believe that he was here, right in the cell next to her. He looked almost exactly the same, except for the bags around his broken-glass eyes that reminded her so much of Cobalt’s, and the red hair that had been directly handed down to her. It wasn’t even a shade off, it was exactly the same. She tried to soothe her raging heartbeat but to no avail. He must have heard it, had to have heard it after all, since he was Heartache.
The Heartache.
The creator of all the Saints, the very reason that life exists at all. He heard every single heartbeat, listening to them like they were the music of his soul, because they were. He was the most powerful of all the Saints and more importantly, he was her father.
Her father.
Her father was right in front of her.
Her hand pressed to her chest as she rapidly breathed, searching deep into the veins that controlled her pulse and demanding that it calm before the wild thrum transformed into a bursting star. Her skin was electric, thunder roiling in regal cracks that skimmed all along her charged flesh.
“Connor.” She forced herself to say, to stop staring at him like a bumbling idiot. His eyes softened, as if he were sad to hear his name from her tongue but she couldn’t command herself to call him ‘father’. She’d already been commanded to do enough harm, enough damage and this was such a small thing to her in comparison to everything else in her chaotic life.
“Yes,” He said quietly, as if it pained him that she didn’t say more. Good. She wanted it to hurt. Wanted to pay him back for the years of hurt that he caused her.
But her head was a horrible mess of things she wanted to say, needed to say, had to say to him. There were so many things swirling within the already cramped space that she wasn’t sure what to pick. Instead she just sat there, frozen like a block of ice in the icy Valkrigge mountains.
“Crimson.” Connor repeated her name and her heart lurched at the sound of it.
How many times had she longed to see him again? How many nights had she sobbed herself to sleep in desperate hopes to have him hold her again? How many times had she wished for him to appear so that she could feel whole again, young again?
“You’re here.” Crimson whispered, her body swaying with the shock. She’d known that he would be here, thanks to the talisman that she still wore around her neck. The guards had removed her of her weapons, but nothing else and she thanked the Saints that she’d thought to tuck it under her clothes where no one would know it was there but herself.
And yet, even though she commanded him to stay in the palace, forced him to be here truly, there was still the overwhelming surprise of it all that doused her like water to a candle as she came face to face with him for the first time since he left.
In eight years.
With that realisation, her anger and hatred returned like a spark in the dark. Her skin prickled with it, tingled with all the loathing that she gained over the missing years from his absence.
“I am,” He admitted with a slight bob of his head.
“Why?” She demanded, leaving the timid doe behind as the mighty lion took over. “Why are you here now, after all this time? Was it because of this?” She yanked the necklace off her neck and held it up before them both. The heart pendant swung back and forth as her hands shook violently. “Was it because I commanded you to come home? Because I used your Saints-damned talisman and forced you to face me?”
His handsome face paled to the point of snow.
“ WHY?” Crimson didn’t care that she was screaming now, or that tears poured out of her eyes and down her face. They dripped off her chin and soaked her trousers, which were already filthy from the nights and days she’d spent in the cell. She was exhausted, emotionally and physically from the last few days and the well of her sanity could only handle so much without spilling over.
Connor didn’t pull away from her fury-ridden expression. “I had to.”
“That is not an acceptable answer, Connor and you fucking know it.” She seethed, tucking the necklace away for now. She doubted that it could ever break considering that the Saints had been around for centuries and none of their artefacts had ever been successfully destroyed. “You left us alone, for eight years .”
“I know,” He said bitterly, looking up at the ceiling, “And I hated every moment of it.”
His words struck her harder than she thought they would have. But she didn’t give in to that momentary weakness, that daughter’s need for her father’s pride.
“You could have come back, at any time.” Crimson answered, leaning against the wall as she wiped at her face. She wished West was here, to hold her and to let her cry as she shook. She wished he was here for this monumental meeting and to see the shock on his face too.
But she didn’t want him here, because she didn’t want to tell him that she’d been the one to kill Muse.
It was only a matter of time.
“When Cobalt was born,” Connor began softly, pulling her attention back to him, “I instantly knew that he wasn’t mine.”
A chill ran through her.
“What?” She asked.
There had always been a thread out of place, a single suspicion considering that he looked nothing like their black-haired mother with hazel eyes. Nor did he look anything like their supposed father, even with the shade of his eyes that were similar enough to pass. But it was another thing entirely to have her wonders confirmed.
“Your mother, I loved her more than anything in this world, in this realm.” He sighed and let his head hit the wall. “And the only reason I didn’t die with her, was because of you, Crimson. I loved you nearly as much as I loved her. I would never have left you behind if I didn’t have to.”
She wanted to ignore him.
Wanted to cast off his praises but they healed some part of her that had been left open for far too long. Her chest vibrated with sparking torment, her lungs constricting as he went on.
“But as soon as your mother told me the truth about Cobalt, that… someone had hurt her and that Cobalt was not my son by blood, my anger flooded me. It took over every sane and rational thought until I cursed the man who’d done that to her. That part of Imp that came from me, I saw it then and there. And with that curse, I unknowingly cursed Cobalt too.” Self-loathing laced his low baritone, and it punched her directly through her stomach.
“His illness…” She inhaled sharply as tears pricked her eyes once more. “The reason we could never find a cure, it wasn’t because of my failing. It was because of your curse.”
Another tendril of hatred filled her for the man in front of her. But as it floated through her like a leaf on a river’s current, she found it dissolving, sinking for the amount of distraughtness he must have carried for himself because of his foolishness.
“Yes,” Connor sniffled. “And I hated myself for it every day. Because the only way to break the curse was to find the man who did that to your mother and kill him. That’s why I had to leave, Crimson. Not because I didn’t want you or love you. I loved you more than I loved anything else, more than I ever thought possible. You filled some part of me that hadn’t been whole since the very start of time and creation. But I had to go, because if I had stayed then Cobalt would have become even sicker until he eventually died, and I couldn’t let him die.”
She was trembling, her world spun on an axis so far away that she wasn’t sure it even existed anymore. Over and over again it rotated as her mind swept up the pieces of his story, weaving and threading them in place until a full, complete tapestry of answers lay before her. As clear as the dawn that brought a new day with it.
“You were hunting him, weren’t you?” She questioned, laying back with a deep sigh.
He silently said yes.
“Did you find him?” Crimson asked next, tilting her head to look at her father. Steel bars separated them, but there was only a few feet that passed between.
“Yes,” He said in a rasping, cold voice that reminded her what death might have sounded like. “And he threw me in here before I had the chance to kill him.”
Terror filled her like she’d been tossed into the ocean without the knowledge on how to swim, to save herself. It coated her entire insides with a clammy feeling that made her want to empty her stomach.
“Altivar?” She bolted upright from her position on the wall. “ Altivar is Cobalt’s father?”
He nodded. “Yes. When I crossed paths with him, my senses went off. In a way that belonged to nothing other than my powers recognizing my own power.”
Crimson let out a light gasp. “Saints sake, this goes far deeper than we originally thought. But it confirms my theory that Altivar was the one behind the notes.”
She knew that what she was rambling about wouldn’t make any sense to the Saint in the cell, but she didn’t care. The loose threads had tightened, as she got the full picture. There were still a few things that they needed to figure out, but her mind buzzed with anticipation to tell West everything she’d found out.
“We?” Connor repeated. “I’m assuming you meant North by that statement.”
By her confused look in his direction, he explained. “Men and maids talk, and I’ve been here for quite some time waiting for you. There are rumours that you and North are together.”
She heard the slight tone of judgement in his statement, one that he didn’t get to make.
“Whatever we are, it is none of your concern nor business. You are here for the nefarious purpose Altivar has for you, and that is it. The only reason that I was looking for you in the first place, was because he threatened Cobalt in order to motivate me to find you faster.”
“I know,” He responded, his chin lowering.
Her chin, she realised.
Most of her features had come from him.
Her head curiously levitated towards all Saints and their offspring, thinking about how similar Altivar looked like his mother. Perhaps it was the immortal blood that ran strong, dominating the other parents’ features and taking over. Though, Cobalt looked nothing like him, so that theory was firmly knotted off.
“Then why are you even bringing it up?” Conversation felt good in the damp dark off the dungeons, even if it meant conversing with him. Altivar had been the only one to see her, talk to her and this was far better than arguing with the arrogant Prince.
Connor crossed one leg over the other, worn leather boots shuffling in the dirty stone. She couldn’t tell if they were originally an oak shade or if it had just been the years of use shoved into them. “I heard him, you know. When you both used my talisman, both of your voices came through.”
“Fascinating.” She mumbled flatly.
“It is,” He informed her. “Because Saints can’t control other Saints. And yet you were able to use my talisman because you have my blood in your system. Any other lesser Saint would not have been able to do so. Which is the part that intrigues me, since I heard North’s voice, sure and strong as he was also able to command me.”
“What are you getting at?”
“When I created the Saints, and we had lived for enough time to know that we were missing something- I gifted them with a partner in the world somewhere. One chance to find the truest of love. A life without love, even an immortal one, is a prison sentence on its own.” He smiled fondly as if he were reminiscing at the idea of her. “Your mother was my soulsaint. She was the very reason I expanded on it, allowing the others to have a taste of the most joyous thing in the world if they wished to seek it out. Muse did, finding Satori I believe. I know that Imp never wanted to engage in anything sexual, but their partner is out there as well, should they long for it.”
The word sent shivers down her spine.
She wasn’t sure if they were good or bad.
“Are you saying that we all have one?”
Connor made a noncommittal noise. “No, only the main six. Muse, Imp, War, Dream, myself and North.”
Crimson exhaled as she began to understand. “What does the soulsaint do for them?”
“They increase their powers, and create a stronger bond than any other ordinary love. Like I said before, North should not have been able to summon me and yet he did, with your powers by his side.” Her father’s blue eyes found her and pinned her to the spot as he said, “You are North’s soulsaint, Crimson.”
Her world fell, shattered, picked itself back up and glued everything back together only to shatter once more. This entire time, she’d felt drawn to him, inexplicably dizzy even, whenever he came around. But now, with her father’s definition of a soulsaint, as he dove deeper into it and explained the connection, the bond- it all made sense.
“He was the very last of the Saints that I created, pouring more love and power into him that I did for any of the others. Within that time, within that last creation of mine, I gave him my utter devotion to the colour of life, of lust and love. The colour which you were named for.” Connor slowly elucidated, and she could sense the hesitation and apprehension in his voice, as if he were scared how she would react to that. “When a Saint finds their match, their heart begins to beat like a real one, unbeknownst to them.”
“West is my soulsaint.” She went over the phrase until it tasted sweet, right, delicious in her mouth. Until the word was ingrained within her brain and would never leave. In Rapscallion Voss’s book, there had been no mention of that term. But then the scoundrel had also misinterpreted West in the first place, so she wasn’t sure how much of that book she should truly believe.
“Yes. I am more sure of that than anything else in my life.” Connor dipped his chin in confirmation. “That is why I brought him up. Not to judge the relationship, even if he’s a tad bit older than I would have liked for my daughter. But to share that vital information with you because you needed to know. And now, you’re ready for this next part.”
He shuffled around, reaching for something in his pocket and withdrew a small vial that he set on the floor between them. A red glass one, with a twisted stopper just as delicate as the rest of it. She eyed it, the sparkling cerise contents that looked unlike anything else she’d ever known. She easily recognized the bottle from the healing ward after spending so much time looking in on Cobalt, but the items within were unknown.
“My biggest flaw with creating the Saints and their bonded, was not giving the gift of immortal lives. I’d already given so much of myself up to the other Saints, that there was nothing left for me to give in terms of immortality. And so no one dared to look for them, or even try except for Muse. The very last thing I want for you is to have found him, and be unable to love like I loved your mother.” He pushed it towards her slowly.
The glass scraped along the stone floor.
“What is that?” Crimson didn’t touch it, didn’t dare with the ominous feeling that poured from the jar.
“I didn’t kill Muse.” Her father immediately said and it made her already wary thoughts turn towards suspicion. “But I did take her heart.”
Her eyes snapped to the vial.
“ This is Muse’s heart?!?” Her fingers curled inwards, refusing to even touch the vial. “Why do you have it?”
“Because I wasn’t going to let anyone have it. Not when it could grant a mortal the power of a lesser Saint.” Connor told her. “Or, make you a full Saint.”