Page 134 of The Ballad of a Bard

West said, “I’ll take the balcony.”

A silver shape appeared from nothing but air in his grip, curving through his fingers. Crimson blinked, thinking she must have imagined it before when he faced War with her.

But no, her sight was correct.

He was holding a weaponizedmoon.

West caught her investigative leer and smirked as he held it up, rotating it so she could get a better look. “One of my more preferred powers.” The blade’s tips looked as sharp and vicious as a needle.

“Impressive.” She stated and thumbed her remaining blade free.

He snuck around the pulled back curtains, angling his head to avoid an unexpected attack and disappeared when he found it to be all clear. Connor vanished from her view as well, leaving her alone in the middle of the room. She’d only ever been in here once before and just like then, her father’s blood sat in a tiny vial off to the side.

Crimson picked it up, finding the liquid to be a little less than last time, and confirming that he had indeed slipped itinto her wine at the ball. He wasn’t going to need it anymore, so she tucked it into her trousers and continued her search for the arrogant heir. The noises had stopped and there were signs that he’d begun to pack for departure, but she spotted nothing from him.

A chest remained on the neat bed, sheets unruffled and pillows in place. Clothes were strewn about, ones that resembled travel ramients, not the fancy garb that the heir usually enjoyed swathing himself in. A few books had been tossed alongside the opened trunk, a satchel of spiced fruit and a skein of what she presumed was water as well.

West returned, no Prince in his grip. “He’s not there. And there aren’t many places he could hide on the balcony, nor could he jump down from that height.”

Connor appeared around the corner, also empty. “Nor is he in the back portion. He must have shifted when he heard us coming and flew off to Saints knows where.”

“If we could find his talisman, then we could summon him back here and make him pay for his crimes against the Empire. But the only reason I knew where to find yours,” Crimson motioned to her father, “Is because I was the one that put it there.”

She intentionally left out the part about selling it and then buying it back with a few flirtatious glances and sweet caresses that led absolutely nowhere. He didn’t need to know the nitty gritty details. There was already enough guilt that pestered him for his previous choices, she didn’t want to add to them.

West let out an exasperated groan that she felt rattling in her core. “I know where it is, and more importantly,whatit is.”

Crimson raised a thin brow. “You do?”

Vexation was clear in the stiff way he held himself. His chin dipped and he jerked it towards the glass chamber that held the three huge snakes. “It’s in there.”

She gulped, sluggishly turning to see where it might be in the cage. “It’s a bone, right?” She recalled the book that Rapscallion Voss had written, the descriptions of all the Saints artefacts.

“Yes.” He confirmed and it didn’t help.

Because within the pile of scaled bodies, water tray and fur patches littered about, was a massive pile of bones. Animal carcasses left over from meals, tall ivory ones picked clean and there was no way that they’d be able to tell which one belonged to him. Or even what to do with it in order to correctly summon him in the first place.

“Even if I created the item, I have no way of telling which it could be.” Connor bent down until he was level with the tank, visibly searching throughout them all. Some were tiny, impossible to be Altivar’s talisman, and others were broken into cruel looking shards. But even if that ruled a good portion of them out, a handful remained. And none of them particularly wanted to reach in and find out, with the risk of being bitten.

“I’ll do it. It won’t kill me at least, but it’ll hurt like a bitch.” West began to shuck his grey sleeves up, rolling them past his elbows in preparation for the unwelcomed task.

Her heart stuttered as she saw the constellation tattoo on his right arm, how beautifully detailed it was with connecting spots of gold that shimmered like real stars. He moved closer and she could see his handsome features contort as he mustered up his courage. Connor stood, backing up and allowing him the room required as he hovered over it with an opened hand.

A fourth, slower beat summoned her attention.

“I can do it if you can’t.” Cobalt quietly called from the doorway and the three of them spun to him. “I know which one it is.”

He was barefoot, in the long shirt that West lent him afterhis sweat-ridden episode that left him rasping for the rest of the evening. His hair was a mess but there was no illness to be found. No sickness in the sheen of his glowing eyes, nothing to see in his healthy-looking skin. Even the redness that always crept around his edges had faded and she felt as though she could fly with the lightness that poured into her.

“How in the Saints name do you know that?” Connor interrogated, rubbing at the lower portion of his face.

“They told me.” He pointed towards the tank, the oversized shirt drifting above his knees as he walked towards it. “The snakes. Can’t you hear what they’re saying?”

The room fell silent.

Crimson’s mouth dropped as she understood.

“You received powers.” And much to her dismay, they’d replicated his true father’s.

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