Page 13 of The Ballad of a Bard

“I have to agree.” He tested it once more, playing around with surnames. “Saint would be funny. Really just shove it in the human’s faces.”

“Westley Saint.” Warrior lifted his hands out as he said it, spreading them wide as if it were sketched into a cloth banner. “Not that they’d ever see the connection once you’ve been glamoured. It’s your best suggestion yet. I say that you should run with it.”

North smiled, “I think I will.”

So North became Westley Saint.

Now he couldn’t have imagined another name belonging to him. West fit him far better than North ever did. North was a tall man with blonde hair and light blue eyes, not the russet skin that he bore or the cobalt eyes that held no white to them.

Gold yes, but not white.

There was a long standing joke with the mad jester, the one that told everyone that hewasin fact a blonde male with pale skin, instead of the actual way he appeared. There was some jest about an interview with a writer, who took everything down as if it were the truth and nothing but it. West had never personally seen the result of such impish behaviours, nor did he ever expect to see it.

He unlocked his apartment doors, dragging the small chest outside of the entrance with his foot as he entered. He kicked it aside and shut the heavy oak door behind him. The handle was a curved, amber thing that twisted off at the end. He liked the way it reminded him of a clock’s hands.

The trunk was full, evident by the weight as he pushed it to his desk. There was no lock, but he trusted his residents wholeheartedly. And when he peered inside, every single sack was accounted for. He ambled over to his desk, which sat precisely in the middle of the main room, past it and to the shelf on the wall. He reached for the decanter, pouring himself a large helping of butter smoked whiskey before shoving the crystal stopper back in and sniffing at the contents of the full cup.

West set it down after a sip, swallowing and enjoying the burn that followed as he began to lift each parcel of coins onto his desk. He flipped open the records book he pulled from the second drawer and began to track each amount with the corresponding tenant and their amount due. Each bag contained a small note with the linking name for him to cross examine. With each he counted, he dipped his glass pen in the ink canister and left a little checkmark by their name.

But he halted as he came to the last name on the list. Two children, who lived with their mother on the second floor ofthe Compass. It wasn’t the mother’s name that caught his eye, rather her offspring.

Cobalt and Crimson Bard.

His dark eyebrows narrowed on the second. Interesting, considering the coincidental meaning of the name.

Crimson, another word for Red.

Bard, a musician, a singer, or alyrist.

Lyric.

Red Lyric.

He ran a hand over his mouth as he sat back in the leather chair that groaned in protest and gazed upon the parchment. There was no way that she was under his nose all along, was there? He shook his head, taking another swig before counting out her pile and adding a checkmark next to their names. He was tired. That was all it was and coming to the most senseless conclusions only worsened it. Especially if it meant spending less time with his royal assness.

West convinced himself that was all it was.

He was just tired of parading around all day with Altivar tugging on his guard dog leash. Excuses to abandon this ridiculous quest for the Blades fighter wouldn’t pop up until they actually did find her. Though West wasn’t entirely sure hewantedthe Prince to find her. There was a seed of doubt in his reasoning for locating the girl, even if everyone deserved a chance at love. But Altivar never seemed to be the sort who wanted anything tangible, anything to last. He was a one and done sort of male.

There was more to it all than Altivar was letting him in on, he was sure about that. Perhaps he’d keep Crimson Bard’s name to himself until he discovered the true reasoning of why the male wanted Heartache.

Heartache couldn’t just find one’s true love, he could alsobreakone.

It was a terrifying power to let loose in the world, regardless of which part. Out of all of the Saints, lesser not included, Heartache’s was the most deadly. He really,reallyneeded to know everything before letting a troublesome, horrible Prince seek the treacherous Saint out.

West shut the leather bound book and placed it back within the second drawer of his dresser as he sipped at his whiskey.

According to the announcer, Red Lyric was due to appear for another round in two days time. He was going to be there anyways thanks to Altivar, so it wouldn’t harm him to study the way the girl fought. The way she moved. Then he could turn his research on Crimson before taking any of his findings to the Prince.

Having a definitive answer was better than assuming anyways.

He finished his drink, setting it back on the shelf instead of reaching for another one, like he did some nights when he was stuck at the castle for too long. There was a room for him there, one that saw more use than this one ever did. West wasn’t a gambling man, but he would bet good money that there was a layer of dust on more than a handful of the surfaces around him.

He pushed out of the wingback chair and tucked it back into the carved out nook in the desk. It was late, and only getting later by the seconds he stalled. But he had duties to attend to in the castle come the dawn, so he found the bathing chamber and stripped off his sapphire doublet. The one given to all the top commanders of the guard, regardless of station. Pins hung on the shoulders, informing all of his station.

Muse thought it extra hilarious, because they were stars. Golden ones, too. One large one on the middle of his shoulders, followed by two smaller ones on each side; Captain.

An honorary title, because she knew that no matter how obnoxiously annoying West found her son to be, he would dowhatever it took to protect him from harm. He had the skills to back it up after three years alongside Warrior before they went their separate ways in Hisaith. Warrior shared everything he knew with him, even going so far as to fight in rounds with him to better his skills. But it wouldn’t have been what he would have chosen for himself in the start of it all.

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