Page 107 of The Ballad of a Bard

The note nearly burned in his grasp.

West had paced around his room relentlessly the first day, kicked and broken everything the second day, yelled at the door and whoever was keeping guard of him the third and then slept the entirety of the fourth. Yesterday had been nothing but trying to figure out a way to unlock his windows- which they’d somehow locked from the outside just in case he turned to them for an escape measure, and today was the last day he could take before his mind took a turn for the worse.

He hadn’t seen Cobalt, and it worried him because Altivar was the sort of male to go back on his word. Was he being taken care of? Helped? Fed and clothed?

“I swear to god, if you don’t open up this door atonce, then I’m going to blast this room full of light so bright that theentire castle will explode!” West roared at the door, adding a kick of his boot for extra measure. It hurt him more than it did the wood, but he heard an exasperated sigh from the other side.

“Captain, we have our orders from the Prince himself.” Rook informed him, as if he didn’t already know who held him here. “I’m sorry.”

There was only one reason that Altivar kept him away too, and they both knew it. Crimson was innocent and Altivar didn’t want anyone to figure that out.

“Where is Satori?” He demanded in return, wanting to kick the damned thing down and storm across the parapets until he found the heir and tossed him off the highest tower. He didn’t care who he was, half Saint or not, he was dead for this.

“With the Prince.” Rook swiftly answered. “She’s taken over your role as his guard dog and refuses to leave his side after-” He didn’t complete the sentence, falling short.

“Where is Muse?” West asked quietly. “What did they do with her body?”

Because the body of a Saint, even if the soul was no longer attached, was a dangerous thing. It could be sold for a high fee, pieces of her hair cut off and woven into stunning bracelets for additional luck and profit. Not to mention her heart, which was a mighty power in itself. If anyone ate it, they could gain newfound powers of their own.

Altivar wouldn’t have eaten it, because Saints could not eat the heart of anyone they shared blood with. Instead of gaining more powers, more strength, it would take them away.

But Altivar would have done something with it.

Rook didn’t respond, so West sent his foot flying into it once more.

“Muse is going to be… cremated and her ashes will be spread along the wind like her final request that she left in her will.”

West let out a shaking breath. He sank to the floor at the information that had come to light, sadness falling over him likea dripping, miserable rain. He hadn’t even had the chance to say goodbye to her, not when he’d briefly fallen to his knees at the sight of her bloodied corpse.

“But... but Captain Saint?” Rook’s voice was muffled, as if he shuffled closer to the door in order to keep whatever he was about to say between them.

“Yes?” He sighed, dropping his arms over his bent knees and letting his hands dangle as he spread his legs slightly, stress aching heavy in his broad shoulders.

“Before they took the Empress away, before she was even moved from the room, someone snuck in and cut out the remainder of her heart.”

His neck jolted up, his eyes flying open.

“Who?”

“They don’t know. But when the Prince came back to say goodbye to his mother, her heart was missing.”

His skin prickled, and not in a pleasant way.

Fifty Two

He’d taken it.

It’s how Altivar found him, even if he’d barely come out of the healing ward. When the Prince stopped dead in his tracks, studied him from head to toe and asked why he’d been in the healing rooms, Connor answered truthfully.

“To see my son.”

He’d spent five days hiding through multiple parts of the castle, evading anyone until his guilt pulled him to Cobalt. The boy deserved to know the truth from someone he could trust. Because that had been the original intent of his visit. To see Cobalt and connect with him, even if the blood that ran through the young boy wasn’t his. Cobalt hadn’t known what happened, only that his sister had been accused of a crime that terrified him. Connor held him as he wept, shaking so hard that he thought the skin might fall from his bones. He held him through it all, whispering that he’d find Crimson and wouldn’t let anything happen to her. It seemed to be the right thing to say, because Cobalt had softened towards him. He’d helped him back into the bed andcovered him with two wool blankets, handed him the apple as he carved it and made sure the child drank the water that the healer ordered him to consume.

Cobalt had fallen asleep before too long.

And then Leysa had ushered him over to his fellow Saint, a ripple of pain charging through him as his gaze fell over Muse’s corpse. Even in death, she was beautiful. She always had been. His own work of art, part of the original family that he’d created for himself, for them all and it grieved him to see her unmoving, unglowing.

But there, in her chest, right over her heart, a thin slice lay with stitches along the length of it. Leysa had solemnly reached for a small jar behind her and pressed it into her hands before anyone else could see.

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