Page 118 of The Ballad of a Bard

He snorted, rolling his eyes as Connor propped himself against the wall. “Soon, yes but not yet. I won’t have actually won until I’ve consumed his heart and gained the full-blooded immortality of a Saint.”

Crimson didn’t dare to tell him that Connor would have rather given his heart to Cobalt. Because within that small tidbit of information, a key fact would have been revealed. And if Altivar knew that he had a son out there, a threat to his line, there was no doubt in her mind that he would kill Cobalt.

“I suggest you sleep well tonight, Heartrage. Tomorrow I’m taking you to the Pits and you’ll be reappearing as Red Lyric. And when you’ve defeated all the champions who want their fair shot at glory and fame, when you’ve regained your own gloryand fame, I’ll unmask you to the world. I’ll let all three of the gates see just who’s been defeating everyone else.”

Dread punched directly through her as he went on.

“And when they call for your head, for breaking the very rules of the Blades of Blood, then the Warrior will come crawling out of the depths of darkness as your next and final opponent. You’ll be able to watch as those fans who adored you so much call for your death, scream it at you. And you’ll give it to them.” Altivar’s promise made her shake. A tremble that she tried to hide from him, to not let him see that his threat had cast her in a shell of fear.

He pulled away at last.

Crimson lifted her chin up high, as high as it would go with the tremor that plagued her. “I might win.” She said hoarsely. “One Saint against another. You can’t control those odds.”

“Oh?” He questioned in a way that made her certainty wave.

“I served in the Bronzed Goblet, in the Pits for years before I stepped in the ring. I watched those other fighters, War himself as he trained them and I learned from their moves and failures as I observed from the shadows.” Her confidence was nothing but a farce as she tried to get him to leave for the night so she could succumb to her terror. “Why do you think I managed to stay as a top competitor for so long?”

Altivar tilted his head to the side. “Luck, little Saint.”

“Not luck.” She disagreed wholeheartedly, brazenly. “Talent. I took on men that were thrice my size with a fraction of the power that I have now. I’ll easily take them down if you decide to throw them in the ring with me. Their deaths will be on your conscience, their blood staining your hands, not mine.”

Because she saw right through his plan.

He wanted to break her before shoving her in the ring withthe biggest, baddest opponent of all. He wanted her to kill and murder and drown in the scarlet that she’d have to spill in order to even have a chance at living.

“Is that so?” He asked softly and she knew that she was making progress at chipping away at his surety. There, in the corner of his golden eyes, doubt swirled like pale wine.

Crimson latched onto it like opium, letting it surge into her soul until she could make another bold statement. “You can throw me in the ring, toss competitor after competitor at me and I will fight them. Because I’m a survivor. I’ve been fighting all my life.”

Altivar hummed a small sound that sounded like contemplation. “We’ll see.”

Fifty Seven

West threw Cobalt behind him, backing them up until they almost bumped into the wall. Cobalt cowered and he couldn’t blame the child as Altivar entered his apartment once more with ten men in tow. The Prince stopped dead in his tracks, eyes narrowing as if everything he had planned had gone awry.

He took immense pleasure in that.

“I see roommates have been assigned.” He didn’t look away from Cobalt and West only pushed him even further behind him, using most of his body mass to hide him. “Even without my permission.”

“You were separating him from his friends and family. Pardon me if I wanted him to feel safe in this tense situation.” West drawled sarcastically. “He stays with me if you want my complete cooperation.”

“Fine. I’ll need it for this next part.”

He snapped his fingers twice and sentries came forward, another round of rifling through his things. “I just cleaned upfrom your last search. Mind telling me what you’re looking for and perhaps I can help you before you destroy any more of my things? I assure you that Crimson isn’t hiding in here if she escaped your confines.” He didn’t move from his spot along the back of his room as they searched through his dresser, ignoring most of his items and instead searching for anything that seemed to belong to her.

He also didn’t dare to hope that shehadescaped.

“Where are Red Lyric’s fighting leathers?” Altivar interrogated as an arrow of apprehension flew through his chest and sank low in his soul. “I already have her blades but I require the rest of her recognizable attire.”

“Why do you need those?” West dared to ask, refusing to hand them over.

“Her boots, her trousers, those gloves and the grey cowl, alongside the jacket and the hood that covered her identity.” He ignored his question, peering around the corner and into his office. “I assume she had them here since I saw her wearing the jacket when she was in the Silver Gate a bit ago.”

“Found them.” A male called from the closet and held up a brown bag filled to the brim with Crimson’s attire.

Altivar forgot about him and walked over to it, taking it and ransacking through it. He pulled out the boots, checking to make sure they both were in there and then found the belt that held her daggers at her side. He nodded in approval at the scarlet pants and the two-toned leather jacket with the laces. Even the cowl and the ribbon that held up her bangs were in there.

“Good. Load it into the cart and prepare it for prisoner transport.” He handed it back to him and the man bowed before heading out of the room.

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