Page 97 of The Ballad of a Bard

He would sell a pint of his magical, heart-stirring blood if it meant covering the cost of a trip home and finding his daughter once again.

Come home.

Come home.

Come home.

Heartache came across three boats in the harbour, two about to set sail by the way their mast’s unfurled and their sails dropped from tall heights. Men shouted to each other on the deck, working in tandem to prepare everything before shoving off the harbour. The one with the massive hull was flying the orange and brown colours of Pitrye, no doubt heading home after a week of trading spices and rum for much needed textiles.

That one wouldn’t suffice.

The second one, the smallest out of the three, bore blue and yellow, Valkrigge’s colours. Which meant that that ship had onlyjust docked, and wouldn’t be sailing anywhere any time soon, regardless of how many crowns one had in their pockets.

But the third, bold and beautiful with a red and purple flag high on the mast, proudly waving in the dawn, was the one for him. Because those were the Empire’s colours, and he knew that they’d be headed home soon. Heartache made for it, checking that he had everything once again as he gripped the leather handle of his satchel and walked up the gangplank. A couple of the crew’s members stopped their tasks to take a gander at him, whisperings arising about who he was.

It wasn’t hard when Heartache looked like heartache come alive.

The pale skin that represented how easily the heart could fail, could fall, could become heartsick. The broken glass eyes that showed just how much one could handle, and still become the most beautiful thing in the world to the right person. The crimson hair that bore the colour of blood, which violently pumped through every vein to keep the pumping muscle alive.

He ignored them and found the captain of the ship instead. The man seemed to have the same idea as he hopped down the stairs that led up to the wheel and crossed his arms over his round chest as he approached.

“We’re not looking for trouble here.” He murmured in a quiet voice. He backed away a few steps, hand resting on the railing of the ship.

“Nor am I.” Heartache responded swiftly. “I only need safe passage to Tazali and then I’ll be out of your hair.”

The captain seemed to pause, thinking over the positive and negative sides to adding a Saint to his crew. At last he dipped his head once in approval. “Fine. But double the cost of a normal passage, just in case we run into trouble.”

“Fine.” He dropped the six crowns into the awaiting palm. “But I won’t be coming out of the cabin, so you won’t have to worry about trouble.”

The man counted them, finding it adequate and shoved them in his pant pocket. “One more thing. What’s so important to you that you need to get to Tazali?”

Heartache, Connor, cast out his gaze towards the looming continent in the distance. One day, and he’d be back.

“Home.”

Forty Six

Conner heard both commands as they ripped through him with unrestrained force. He heard his daughter, sad and yearning for his return. One that he would have obeyed without the talisman she undoubtedly carried.

“Stay, until we can come find you.”

But then he’d heard the second voice that danced alongside hers, one that he’d know anywhere thanks to the years spent with the Northern Star.

“For both of us.”

North wasn’t particularly a sentimental person, but after nearly a week of waiting for Crimson in the palace, Connor had heard the rumours. The ones regarding her and the captain of the Watch. Ones that he wasn’t so sure he liked. Of course, he had no say in her life considering that she was a grown woman now, but he was still her father and he could still not like it.

The Prince wasn’t anywhere to be seen, and Muse floated around the castle like the goddess she was. She attended council meetings, heard angry complaints in the main chamber, andtended to things that any sovereign would do. She’d been overly eager to see him, as she’d always been and directed him to a guest room whilst he waited for his daughter. But now, he had someone else to visit while he was here.

Someone that he’d held once, before departing on a mission to save his life.

Connor stood at the door to the healing wing, unsure if he should venture in or not. There was no telling if the curse he’d placed on the small boy’s father would enact even more so if he came within a certain amount of feet. He didn’t even know the child’s name, only the name that his mother wished to bestow upon him before she’d died in his arms.

Connor remembered the frightened look in Crimson’s eyes as she carefully took the brand new babe she was handed, wrapping him in a nearby blanket as Connor dealt with the consequences of his birth.

“Would you like to see him?” A male voice asked and he jumped. “I’m sure he’d be grateful for the company considering his sister’s been gone for the week.”

Connor flipped to see two men standing behind him, dressed in the armour of the guard. They appeared to be related, but not much held them to that standard.

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