Page 69 of The Ballad of a Bard

Her hands shook as she crumpled the note. It wasn’t a prank, or anything like that. Whoever was sending her these things, they were dead serious. Crimson shoved it into the wastebasket, alongside the first one. There were already stakes on finding her father but now they were severe, life threatening.

She shoved all the hatred for Heartache, all the loathing for her father downwards until she could barely feel an ounceof it. She locked it all away, tucking her own wants and desires aside. For Cobalt’s sake, for his life and everything that would come after, she’d find him.

Crimson would do whatever it took.

Four hours later, she slammed a map down in front of West. He jumped up, tiredness clear in his red eyes as he peeled off of the desk. Her heart lurched at the exhaustion that pooled there, at the want to wipe the bags under his eyes away. She ignored it and any other flitting feelings that popped up like embers in a hearth whenever she was around him.

“There. If we’re going to find the damned Saint, it’s going to be in one of these spots.” She tapped each of the twelve stars she’d drawn on the parchment, one at a time.

“And these are?” He mumbled, running a hand through his hair in an attempt to fix it. He’d clearly slept here, in his office instead of his bed.

“I asked around the towns, all three levels and the one in the capital for anyone who’d last seen Heartache. Whenever they gave me a brief description, I marked it down.” Crimson pulled a list free of her satchel and handed it to him. He skimmed it, eyes moving fast across it as he flipped the second page over, and the third. “I recorded the spots that people repeated, so that we’d have a better base for finding him.”

West set down the list and looked at the map with her stars. “Because he’s more likely to be seen in his familiar haunts.” He grabbed a pen from the metal jar and began to cross out a couple.

“What are you doing?” She tried to stop him but he swatted her hand away and continued.

“He won’t step foot in Trealth again. Not after a couple of merchants tried to kidnap him and sell him for a small fortune.” West drew a large X throughout the entire southern landmass, rotating the map slightly to the left. “Nor would he ever visit Pitrye.”

The tiny island fell away with a mark of his ink.

“And he’s not been seen in Tazali for eight years, since we came down.” He explained and scribbled out the continent.

“Which leaves Valkrigge.” Crimson finished for him, tapping the western land. “There were four known sightings of Heartache there, any chance he’d be found in any of them?”

“Very much so.” He circled the one farthest away from Tazali. “This one was always his favourite.”

She peered down at it, at the small city called Belledon. “That’s the one that I heard the most. How long would it take to travel there?”

West looked up from the map. “It would take us approximately three days, one of which on a boat. We’d have to spend the night and start our journey through Valkrigge in the morning, but nothing too arduous. There are plenty of taverns with accommodation such as inns that we can stay in. I’ll start making a list of supplies and we can pack immediately.” He stood, stretching his back and cracking his spine. He rolled his head from side to side. “That is, I’m assuming you’d want to leave right away?”

“You’d come with me?” She sputtered.

Crimson expected him to help her find him, but not to accompany her after last night’s events.

“Of course I would. Why wouldn’t I?” West came around his desk after pushing his chair in. He started to clean up the massive piles of paper, tucking the thick leather books into designated slots along the shelves that adorned the walls.

She noticed the single shelf dedicated to a decanter and four glasses, as if he’d held company here and offered them a drink. Of course, all but one were utterly untouched, letting her know that he wasn’t the sort to let anyone in here. West was a private sort, that much anyone could tell from one look at him.

“Because of last night.” She said, walking towards the window that overlooked the lower levels of the Bronze Gate.

Because she’d fucked herself, pretending it was him, to the smell of him on his sheets, to the feelings that he’d ignited when he’d touched her. When his eyes had glazed over and she’d sworn she’d seen the midnight sky on fire.

Crimson cleared her head, focusing on the land below.

People were milling about the dirt streets, going about their business as the afternoon passed by. She could see the Bronzed Goblet from here, and make out the tiny wooden sign that wiggled in the slight wind. There weren’t that many shoppes this far down in Tazali, but the ones that were firmly planted here, weren’t of the greatest making. They were nothing compared to the Silver Gate shoppes, which were nothing compared to the ones above the Gold Gate.

“You weren’t yourself last night. I don’t hold you accountable for anything that was said or done. I figured we could brush it under the carpet and leave it there.” He offered up, stalking towards the buttery liquid and yanking the stopper free.

But her actions, her thoughts, thosehadbeen her. Even before the drugging drops of Heartache’s blood, she had felt those things. She’d continue to feel those things longer after it as well. Way past touching herself.

It had taken three hours to subside the effects of her fathers blood and she’d suffered for all of them. Three, long hours of her skin that slowly ebbed from being ultra sensitive. Three, long hoursof wishing that West would storm back into the room and show her just what made him a god. Three, long hours of contemplating riding her hand again, for the sheer sake of a break. Even if it would have only been a small one.

Crimson had held out for the rest of the night but it hadn’t been easy.

West tilted the glass decanter over the fat glass and poured himself a considerable amount. Crimson snatched it out of his hand before he could take a sip, tossing it back. He blinked; but grabbed another cup and filled it for himself. She wordlessly held hers out and he refilled it as the heat started to pour in from the heavy liquor. It sat in her stomach like a metal weight.

“Rough day, I take it?” He teased and replaced the stopper. He set it back on the shelf with gentle hands and kicked one boot behind him to prop himself up on.

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