Page 84 of The Ballad of a Bard

West joined her on the railing, folding his arms and applying his weight to them. He started out at the vast sea, taking it all in with a scanning gaze. “We’ll be back before you know it.”

Seagulls screeched above them, swooping and diving for jumping fish with accurate aim. They swallowed them in one gulp, falling back for seconds.

“I know.” She answered. “I just hate being away for any amount of time, let alone at least six days.”

“He’ll be fine.” He assured her and nudged into her shoulder. She managed to produce a weak smile in his direction.

The ships’ captain began to yell orders at his men and the boat creaked under their feet. The anchor groaned as it was lifted and ropes immediately began to unhook from their wooden posts along the harbour. Waves lapped up against the barnacle infested hull as the sailors readied for push off.

And as Crimson looked back towards the castle, she couldn’t help the feeling that nothing would be the same once they returned.

Thirty Eight

There wasn’t much room in the small cabin usually reserved for the captain, but West promised that they wouldn’t need it. Not when they should reach their destination by nightfall if the winds were on their side. He showed her around the boat and she was surprised to find that it was a fairly small vessel, in comparison to some of the grand floats that sailed around the continent.

There was only one mast, instead of the usual three that she expected to see when looking up, but the single post bore the flag of Tazali proudly, high and mighty. The railings were worn, which signalled to her that the ship was well loved. The captain seemed to know it inside and out, front and back as if it were a valued member of his family instead of a transportational item.

They set sail quickly, without any delay after the gangplank was loaded up and the ship was pushed off the docks with large paddles.

West seemed to be lost in thought in the crash and pull of the sea, as if it called to him. She supposed that even though hisSaintly name was that of the Northern Star, that he represented the night in its entirety. The navy quilt in his sapphire eyes, the golden stars with his rich skin, the darkness in his near black hair and even the silver of the moon in his curved smile.

And the moon was connected with the ocean, with the lulling sense of command and obey that came with each shirking phase and every seafoam capped wave.

He wore the cobalt jacket that boldly stated his title and what he did for the Empire of Tazali, with his broad arms crossed over his chest as his gaze locked with the horizon. A focus point somewhere across the cerulean sea as he heavily contemplated something that she wasn’t privy to. He didn’t move an inch, looking as stoic and stone as one of the granite statues in the Empress’s garden. His mouth pursed as he chewed on the inside, lost in his thoughts and to nothing else.

Whatever it was, seemed important.

Crimson approached him as she would a frightened child; with caution and discretion. West acknowledged her quiet creaks of her shoes with a tilt of his head in her direction. She came to the wooden railing, leaning across it as she tried to see what had captured his attention. But as she drew close, she noticed that his fingers were tightly grasped around something cream coloured.

Around something familiar.

She paused, turning her focus from the water to see what it was.

The Saint spared her from anymore perusing as he uncurled his digits and held out his hand before her. Her spine immediately locked up as she knew why the thing in his hand looked so familiar.

Her note.

Crimson didn’t say anything as she tucked her lips together until they formed a flat line. She took it from him, brushing againsthis gloved palm. Uncrumpling it, she looked down at it blankly. There was no need for her to try to read the ink, not when she knew the one by heart. It was the one from C that mentioned him, about dragging him into this whole Heartache mess.

His voice was hoarse as he asked, “How many notes have you received, Crimson?”

She swallowed, “Three.”

“Why didn’t you say anything to me?” West stopped his forlorn look out towards the waves as he turned towards her. “You should have brought this up, especially considering that they included my name.”

“Why?” She bit out.

“What do you mean, why?” Confusion darted through his tone like a frog snapping at a fly for lunch.

“You thought that they were a harmless joke, a prank to be ignored when I brought the first one to you.” Crimson tore the note into shreds, scattering them onto the sea-salt-licked breeze. They watched them flitter and flutter around until the wind carried them into the ocean.

“But-”

“If I had brought the next one, and then the one after that to you, would you have taken the matter seriously?” She hated that she’d forgotten to empty the wastebasket before they departed, leaving the evidence of whatever this stupid game was behind for him, or anyone truly, to find.

West glanced down at her. “Yes.”

She met his gaze. “Yes?”

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