Page 11 of The Ballad of a Bard

“Knock it off.” His friend shoved into him, a warning clear enough. “She’s notthatkind of girl.” He met her gaze again, and she had the nerve to meet it instead of casting hers aside as an inner voice told her to do. “Are you?”

“No!” Crimson protested with a shameful heat that kicked through her. “Not at all. I just sell nuts and ale,nothingelse.”

For some reason, the emotion churning magic didn’t seem to immediately affect either one of the males in front of her. Strange, considering that it always worked. It was easy, a blink of an eye but not with them. She brushed it off as coincidence and went to grab her tray to find another customer as someone rudely bumped into her. The tray tumbled forward and the ale spilt all over the floor.

Quick, warm hands pulled her back just in time before she became a part of the mess. A dizzying sparkle of something new burst to life inside of her, like the feeling of a bubbling wine.

“You alright?” The tall man peered down at her, sapphire and gold swirling around his incredible eyes.

“Yes, thank you.” She mumbled as a blush took over her cheeks. He was absurdly attractive, bless the Saints. It didn’t help that his uniform fit him very well. She could make out almost every line in his corded torso, the hidden strength in his arms and the toned muscles in his legs.

“Fast reflexes, West.” The other praised with a clap on his back asWestlifted her up and out of the way of the spill. He bent down and handed her the tray. “She might have been completely drenched otherwise.”

“Why do you think I stepped in?” He said with a boyishsmile and brushed off a speck of dust from her hem. “Wouldn’t want that.”

The first man reconsidered, “Though, perhaps we may have enjoyed that sight far better than her without a single drop to be found.”

West exhaled a long breath, annoyance dancing through his features as a muscle in his neck jumped. “You shouldn’t say things like that to girls you’ve only just met.”

“Oh, lighten up.” He chuckled, clapping his shoulder. “I’m just having fun.”

“That’s what worries me.” West stole a last glance at her before turning away.

Crimson hastily exited with another mumbling appreciation, finding the store room to restock her tray before the event was over.

When the final fight was over and done with, and no more guts were to be slain in vain, she turned in her tray and apron for the night as well as the coins that piled up in her pocket. Roland counted them all up, separating them into six piles. The other girls added their amounts and he totaled them all up. He muttered thanks to each of them as he gave them their fair wages, Crimson inclined before pocketing the final pile for himself.

He brought his hands together, a clap sounding as he addressed them. “Good work today, girls! I need four of you for tomorrow night!”

The spots were quickly filled as Crimson found her bag and tossed the crowns inside, hooking it over her shoulder as she left the room. The chamber was slowly emptying out, patrons findingthe staircase that led up to the tavern above. She waited patiently for her turn, considering the corridor up was thin enough for only one person to walk up at a time. While Crimson stood in line, her attention caught on a hushed conversation between three people on the first level.

She recognized them.

“Where is he?” West inquired, shuffling back and forth between his boot clad feet. He was dressed in a midnight doublet, lined with gold that made his eyes pop out from his golden-brown skin. Charcoal trousers rose up from his black boots and they fit him perfectly. “We don’t mean him any harm, but rather a word with him regarding his talents.”

“Red Lyric isn’t available for personal tasks. His only commitment is here, in the pits.” The announcer, Zion, nervously sputtered. “Many have tried but he doesn’t accept anything with hires.”

“Why not?” The graceful companion asked as he lowered his scarf, revealing his attractive face. “If he knew who asked after him, then I’m sure he’d change his mind like a shift of sand on the breeze.”

Zion’s eyes widened, but he didn’t seem to be afraid of him. “I’m afraid not, Prince Altivar. He doesn’t take on tasks from anyone from the Silver Gates, let alone the Gold Gates.”

Crimson froze.

The man was… the Empress’s son?

That explained the luxury in his silken scarf, the richness of his cosmetics and the shimmer to his dark skin. Which meant that West wasCaptainWestley Saint, in charge of the Watch.

Five

This was getting rather tiresome.

West wanted nothing more than to go home, to his apartments and kick off his dusty boots. Not that that was usual for him, considering he rarely was seen in the establishment he owned and looked after. He spent most nights in the castle, but undisturbed sleep urged him after his long day of duties. Besides, rent was due from his tenants since it was the final day of the month and if he wasn’t there to collect it from the chest outside of his office, it could be sitting there for days.

He didn’t know most of his tenants, only their names and how much they owed at the end of each four week period. Nor did they know him, only where to set their money after their stay and how much. Some resided in his apartments for years and years while others stayed only a couple of weeks.

“Where does he go after the fights?” West questioned as he casually leaned against the railing of the arena.

“Home, I suppose.” The announcer answered.

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