Page 108 of The Ballad of a Bard

“Take it,” She whispered to him. “I don’t know what Altivar intended to do with it, but I don’t want it to fall into anyone’s hands but another Saint’s. And West is locked in his apartments, so I don’t have any other option. I don’t know where Imp or Dream are and War isn’t someone that I would trust with anything this powerful.”

Within the small jar, Connor felt the massive power that seeped from it. And he’d known almost instantly what remained inside. The red, glittering components were the leftover shards of Muse’s heart, a powerful weapon in the wrong hands.

“It belonged to you, if the legends are true.” Leysa added, warily glancing around the curtain that blocked them off from sight. “I’m only returning it to its rightful owner.”

He’d tucked it into his pocket, thanking her before striding for the exit. He wasn’t sure what he’d do with it yet, but his heart told him that it wasn’t enough to save the boy, let alone cure him of his illnesses. That would solely rest on killing the manresponsible for hurting the woman he loved and erasing the curse from the world. At least, without knowing for sure, it wasn’t a risk that he was willing to take.

He hadn’t even known it had been possible for his powers to curse someone like that, but his anger and despair had taken over so furiously, that he’d seen nothing but red at that moment. And so the curse was born, alongside Cobalt who should have been his but wasn’t.

As Connor cast one last glance at the small child sleeping in the cot, he silently vowed to never give up on his hunt for the man. Before that however, he still needed to find his daughter. He knew that guards had taken her to the cells for a crime that she could not have committed, even if her talismans were said to be the object of the Empress’s murder. He’d raised Crimson for eighteen years, known the girl for nearly two decades and even with the missing eight years that he desperately longed to have with her, it wasn’t something that he could ever see her doing.

She was fierce, even then, but not a cold-blooded killer.

Connor had done a good job of avoiding Altivar for the last few days, but he knew that the servants gossiped and that the Prince would inevitably know that he was here. Leysa had done a wonderful job of hiding him in the sick beds everytime the guards came looking. His red hair was a dead give away, especially with his daughter’s presence. Not to mention that Muse had strung up several tapestries, had floors painted and pictures hung with his exact features all over the palace.

She loved them all, each of the five Saints.

And now she was the one that had paid the price.

Connor didn’t know who had killed her, but he hated them just as much as he hated the man that sired Cobalt. But he’d learned from his previous mistakes and calmed himself downbefore another curse erupted from his thrumming magic and pulled another innocent down with it. That was the very last thing he wanted.

But as he’d exited the healing ward, he’d halted in his tracks as the golden-brown skin, the dark chestnut hair of Prince Altivar Talon appeared before him. The man paused as well, lined eyes narrowing as he took Connor in, hands tucked behind his back in a way that arched his spine splendidly.

“I know you,” Altivar drawled, angling his head like a serpent about to strike. “Heartache.” His teeth showed as his lips pulled back. “At last, we meet.”

There was a shaking sensation in his bones, one that rattled him to no end. One that charged into his veins like new lightning and shook him with a wild force that belonged only to earthquakes, hurricanes and tornadoes. It was a warning, one that he would never be able to ignore. And it was the answer to a question that he’d spent eight years searching for.

Connor felt as though he couldn’t breathe as everything turned to air inside of him. His stomach churned in anger and violence. His head pounded with a furious fist that wanted to kill him. His heart burned with the force of a thousand suns and fires all wrapped into one.

“You,” He pushed out through clenched teeth,

Becausethis,was Cobalt’s true father.

Altivar Talon, son of Muse and the new Emperor of Tazali.

“I’ve been looking for you, you know.” Altivar inched closer, long fingers delicately plucking at Connor’s scarlet jacket that had seen better days. There were some loose threads hanging from the fat collar, around the buttons on the pockets and at the ends of his sleeves. He flicked at one, seemingly disgusted at the way he presented himself.

“I’ve been looking foryou,” He responded, still frozen in horror as those eight years came slamming down on him like an avalanche of horror and hatred.

The man had been right in front of his face the entire time, on the one place that he’d left because he thought he’d searched high and low, combing through every inch of the continent before setting off to the other islands. Before he left his only daughter and his newborn son to fend for themselves. He could have burst into the palace, found him within a month and returned home to take care of his small family instead of wasting so long searching for him.

Connor was on the verge of tears. Angry ones, heartbroken ones, sad ones. Ones of relief, too. All he had to do was kill Altivar, and Cobalt’s curse would be lifted. He stepped forward a single step.

Altivar clapped his hands twice and the sound pulled him from his own mind, his own revenge. “How perfect then, Heartache. Let’s get this over with, shall we? Family reunions and all that.”

A hand grabbed at his arm and he wrenched it back, peering over his shoulder to see an armoured guard reaching for him once again. Connor backed away from the Prince, towards the exit once again as the Prince asked him why he was in the healing ward. He answered, trying to stay out of the reach of the guards who doubled, and still aimed for him.

When that number nearly tripled, he couldn’t stay away for long enough. Five men held him, pulling him along as Altivar told them where to take him.

The cells.

Connor called his magic, seeking and searching for each vein in a desperate attempt to stop them. But even as the most powerful Saint of all, he had limits. There was no controlling their emotions, no working his way into their minds and commanding them to let him go. His power resided in love, lust and heartbreak. In makingthem fall in love, in losing it and then turning to despair and depression. He could alter the chemistry of their brains and make them fall head over heels for someone they did not care for in the slightest, but that was the full extent that his magic allowed.

His blood spiked, chilled and then rose again with each level of the castle that they descended to. His heart was a wild beast that thrashed against the bones of his ribcage, aching to be let out and destroy the man that led them all down the stairs. He wanted to listen to it and his power radiated off of him in sharp waves of pain and pleasure as he let it go.

There wasn’t much he could do with the half Saint either, other than make his myocardium falter. Muse’s blood ran through him, making Heartache’s power not as effective as it would have been on a full mortal. He hated it, wanted to reach into the man’s chest and rip it out himself, only to break it in front of him.

Altivar paused before an empty cell, peering at the one next to it as a sleeping figure inhaled softly, her breathing laboured.

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