Page 54 of The Ballad of a Bard

“I know what you mean. But you’re not grey either, West.”

“Oh?” He lifted an eyebrow, curious to know what colour she would name him as instead.

“You’re gold.” Her finger poked at his bicep.

Once, twice.

Then her face broke out into the most brilliant smile that he’d ever seen. Suddenly the ember pushed past any water barrier that he could ever summon to put it out, and became aSaints-damnedinferno. It roared in defiance of his denial, licked the inside of him raw and he staggered back a step at the inferno that poured throughout him.

“I-I have things I need to do.” He muttered as a poor apology. “We can continue this search for your father after the ball. I- Ineed to get down to the training pits and see to my duties. I must have lost track of time.”

Her face dropped and she glanced down at her feet. “I see. Well, I don’t want to get you in trouble. Go then. I’ll finish up here and see if I can find any clues towards where we can find Heartache.”

He wanted to reach out to her, to comfort her. To take her into his arms and promise that it wasn’t her, but himself that caused the issue. But West did none of that. Instead he gathered up his collection of maps and slipped them back into their designated places. One by one, he sorted them all away until there wasn’t any on his side left. Only the ones that she still had yet to puruse.

“I’ll see you before bed.” He shot in her direction, not daring to take her in one last time before he left. West didn’t know if he could and leave her there after. Didn’t know if he could stomach the look of disappointment that she held in her pretty features.

“I might be asleep by then. You tend to come in quite late.”

“Duties.” West said.

“The loyal dog.” Crimson murmured bitterly. “Always at your master’s heels.”

The comment struck him, harder than it should have but he understood her anger toward him. So without another word, because he didn’t trust himself to say anything to her, West flipped on his heel and left her there, all by herself.

And he felt utterly miserable for it.

Twenty Two

Cobalt handed her a tangerine and she began to peel it for him, one side at a time.

“He just walked away?”

“He just walked away.” Crimson confirmed and pulled a slice off, popping it into her mouth before handing the rest to her sibling. Citrus burst across her tongue as she bit into it, the veins sliding down the back of her throat, along with the sweet juice.

“But he said he was going to come back.”

He hadn’t.

At least not while she’d been awake, tossing and turning in the bed as she waited for him to return from his so-called duties. The ones that she solely believed he’d made up, to get away from her. Because West had looked at her then, in the moment, and she’d felt as if her whole world had fallen onto its side. His sapphire orbs glimmered with the light of a thousand moons, his golden skin glowed with what appeared to be happiness- she couldn’t find any other way to describe it, and he looked almost human.

He looked like he’d fallen in love with her.

Something that made every inch of her skin tighten to the point of pain, where her heart felt as though it might burst with adrenaline and fear and delight. And then he’d turned away, the light dimmed and shadows fell over her as he muttered that he had to leave.

As he’d looked like he’d fallenoutof love with her.

Crimson had grown tired with every minute that turned into ten, which faded into twenty and so on and so forth. Until she couldn’t remain awake any longer and her body betrayed her. She remembered nothing past the point of closing her eyes, including whatever she dreamed about. There was no recollection to pull from, no ideas that tossed and turned within her brain.

Just pure nothing.

But he’d been there.

In the bed, with her.

When she woke, the curtains were still shut. As if he’d left them closed on purpose, to allow her as much sleep as she required before starting a new day, a new dawn. His side of the bed was neatly made, all organised and even, but there was a tray on her side. A plate full of peaches, nectarines and grapes sat on it, alongside chilled milk and what appeared to be thin pastries with powdered sugar.

But no West.

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