Page 139 of The Ballad of a Bard

“I think I can still do better.” The Saint grinned, pulling her back down until their bodies were flush. “Regardless, I think I’d like to try.”

Crimson’s breasts tightened.

West lined himself up with her soaking core, slickness coating her thighs, his hands, the very tip of him as he pressed in lightly. “This might hurt for a moment.”

She didn’t care how he knew that she’d never been with anyone else before. All she cared about was that final joining, the moment that she’d been waiting for for so long.

He angled up and pushed in, a gasp flying from her lungs as he was proven correct. A sharp pinch flew throughout her system, slightly painful. Enough that she grimaced and worry plastered West’s handsome face as he paused.

“Is it too much?” He asked softly. “I can stop.”

“No,” Crimson whispered. “I don’t want you to stop.”

She wanted him togo.

Her hips wriggled in an attempt to get him to move again, to fit deeper, but he let her adjust first. That gentler side of him, the one that always took care of her after she’d taken care of everyone else for so long. That side of him that made her love him eternally.

When Crimson nodded, letting him know that it faded away into nothing, he began to move inside her again. The second thrust was slower, more cautious and didn’t hurt as bad as the first. The third was even less so, and she felt nothing on the fourth push. But there, on the fifth, a prick of pleasure picked up. By the seventh, she understood why people had sex.

Her lips popped open and once more her head met the pillows. West held her through it all, speeding up with each additional push that withdrew a sound from her.

“Saints, I love you.” He cursed and his hips slammed into hers, over and over again.

She might have returned the sentiment had she been able to form the letters, but her mind refused to focus on anything other than the long length that moved inside of her, stroking the furthest parts that she had to offer.

When he came, Crimson held him there, capturing his mouth with hers and swallowing his groan. And when he stopped twitching, remaining there for a few minutes after, she finally whispered the phrase back to him.

Sixty Eight

Within the week, news of Altivar’s death had spread like wildfire, reaching even the lowest parts of the Bronze Gate. And with his passing, the announcement of the new heir followed. Cobalt could hardly believe it, and Crimson was right there alongside him. It made sense, but it was still astounding to think about. As was the fact that murdering their parents seemed to run in the family. Altivar had killed Osira, and Cobalt had killed him in return.

Which hadn’t bothered the boy yet and she highly doubted it would ever. Perhaps when he was older and could understand the full extent of his decision, but she wasn’t going to press it.

Black flags flew about the palace in honour of the Talon line, which Cobalt stated he wasn’t taking the name. He wanted to keep Bard, and no one had an issue with it. Not even the advisors that would help him lead one day when he came of age. Until then, a temporary ruler would be set in stone, acting for Tazali’s best interests. West turned it down, as did Connor and Crimson. And with those rejections, the advisors came to thedecision that perhaps a full Saint shouldn’t rule, as they already obtained enough power without the title.

West asked them both to move into his rooms at the Spinning Compass, which they were in the process of doing. He’d transformed his third room into a space for Cobalt, purchasing a massive bed for him that Cobalt was utterly obsessed with. Azure assaulted it as well, and the boy insisted that West hang his portrait in there as well.

He’d happily done so.

Crimson filled the remaining drawers of his dresser and doors were put up as well to allow privacy. Something that they’d needed in the last week as they exploredeverythingthat lay between them. She wasstillreeling from it and expected to be for quite some time if he kept it up. He was immortal and so was she. She expected it forquitesome time.

Connor sailed back to Belledon to collect the rest of his things, vowing that he would return and then they’d never be rid of him again. She’d only pulled out his talisman and threatened to hold him to that. With a brief hug and a few emotional words, he’d left two days ago for Valkrigge on a merchant ship. Thalias took over as Captain of the Watch in West’s stead as he hung his coat up for good, but not truly disposing of it. She understood why.

It was one of the last things he had from Muse.

And with the coming years ahead of them, without any worry of how they would pay for food or medicine or rent, Crimson felt as though she could freely breathe at last.

Sixty Nine

Thirteen Years Later

The castle was abuzz with life as servants milled about, tossing banners of royal blue over the parapets, decorating the ceilings with brand new chandeliers that glowed like a thousand stars and dusting every inch of the dwelling in preparation for the upcoming coronation.

Satori Marx had taken over in Osira’s death after the advisors struggled to find anyone to fill the shoes, and after Altivar had perished thanks to Cobalt’s quick thinking, the Empire of Tazali had needed a new ruler. The woman had stepped in on her previous lover’s behalf, understanding just how Osira would have wanted things to be done. The Empire thrived under her rule but it was only a temporary arrangement.

Until the only official heir could come of age.

And now, thirteen years later, hehad.

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