Page 32 of The Ballad of a Bard

“I do.” She said without even thinking about hesitating, “He’s my entire world, and I would do whatever it takes to protect that. It’s only been him and I for eight years, and I’m not sure what I would do if I ever lost him. He’s a fighter, you see.”

West grinned, “Just like his sister, it seems.”

A staining heat rose to her cheeks.

They began the upward climb to the Spinning Compass as buildings began to dull their candles and put out their sconce light for the evening. There was barely chatter in the streets as they continued. The shoppes were closing, with their patrons exiting after making last minute purchases, sipping on final drinks and shoving the last morsel of food into their gullet before heading out.

Crimson avoided looking at him, at hating him for growing up in the palace. He wasn’t to blame for enjoying a life of ease, a life that allowed him to afford all the pleasures in the world. “Someone had to fight for us. No one did. I picked up that mantle as soon as he became my responsibility and I’ve been fighting for us ever since.”

“I can only imagine how lonely it must be.” West untucked his doublet, fingering the buttons until they broke apart and his coat swung open. A tan shirt lay underneath, with a low neck that she told herself not to look at.

“Not really. We have each other, you see.” Crimson insisted.

It hadn’t ever been lonely, except perhaps in the beginning of it all. When she’d awoken to Heartache packing a bag, her mother’s corpse not even buried a day before. Connor, that was the name he went by with them. The one that her mother loved to say and the one that belonged to the man that her mother loved eternally. The one that felt like it broke Crimson’s heart when he left, abandoning them to their own sake.

She’d fallen ill for a couple weeks after he’d left, sobbing relentlessly in the bed until the sheets became a puddle from her sorrow. Her chest had burned something fierce and it nearly swept over her like the skeletal hand of death. Crimson thought she had been dying, and if it hadn’t been for her newborn brother, shemight have. His cries woke her from that state of despair, forcing her to look after him, take care of herself so that he wouldn’t be alone in the world.

So she’d mustered her heartbreak into anger.

And it fueled her to live, to fight for them both.

She hated Connor, Heartache, for leaving them.

There were many things she’d never understood about the male who created her, but why he left his precious knives behind was one of the ones that intrigued her the most. It wasn’t like that was his talisman, the one that could control him. It couldn’t have been, because for the next month and a half, Crimson pulled them out and begged for him to come back home. Her tears dripped into their smoky metal as she commanded him to return, her fury poured into the handles as she yelled at him to find them.

He never did.

And he never came back.

“I knew your father.” West said out of the blue. “And I find it very hard to believe that he wouldn’t have a solid reason for leaving you in the first place. I’m not excusing his rash behaviour of course, considering how young your brother was and the fact that your mother perished, but I think there may be more to that story than what’s on the surface.”

“For my brother’s sake, I hope so.” She almost hissed, as if her fury at him would burn right through her.

“Not for your own?” He asked.

She stopped walking. “No. I will never forgive him for leaving us. There were so many other options that he could have pursued, but abandoning us without a single word, reason or excuse was not the right way to do whatever it was that made him feel as though he had to leave us in the first place.”

“Understood.” He paused before the Spinning Compass andreached into his pants pocket, withdrawing the keys on a metal hoop. “But we don’t need to discuss it anymore if you don’t want to.”

Crimson made a disgruntled noise. “It’s not a hard thing to talk about, it’s just pointless. He’ll never come back, nor do I expect him to. If he did, why wouldn’t he have already come?”

“Unfortunately, that’s not something that I can give you the answer to.” West found the correct key before entering it into the keyhole and turning until a softclicksounded and the door swung open. He pushed it forward for her and she ducked under his arm and shut it behind them.

“We’re on the second floor.” She mumbled under her breath. This entire thing felt oddly intimate, as she let a complete stranger into her life.

“I know.” The barest of smiles from him slipped out as he tucked the keys away once more. “Record books, and all that.”

She’d never once had any sort of romantic partner before in her life, not one this involved anyways. Not one that she shared personal details with and invited into her home. Not one that invited her to stay with him, all the while tending to her brother. There’d always been that potential with Fitz, but he’d died before anything could have awoken from that besides flitting feelings.

Not to mention, the man that she led up the stairs wasn’t a man at all, but aSaint.It was a similar sensation to have a freaking god at one’s heels, following around and tenderly taking care of one.

It was strange, and slightly intimidating.

Andintoxicating.

“Here.” She showed him their apartment and he unlocked the door again with his ring of keys, pushing open to peer inside. He stepped into the tiny kitchen space, taking in the entire room with one fell sweep of his head.

“Crimson? Is that you?” A boy’s voice called out.

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