Page 133 of The Ballad of a Bard

Sixty Five

Damien and Thalias remained with Cobalt as he recovered, leaving Connor and West to follow her throughout the corridors as she searched for Altivar. It was a three-way tie between them all on who wanted to kill the Prince the most, and for some reason, she felt as though she held the lesser claim. Even West, she placed behind Connor after much deliberation on the topic.

Crimson was tired of the blood that coated her hands, of the numberless kills she’d made over the last few years. And when she surveyed both of the males features, she found that her reasoning for wanting to take down Altivar wasn’t enough to take another life.

Her gait paused as they reached the last floor, turning towards her father. He waited, patiently allowing her to come to her own conclusion. West caressed her arm, nearing the top of the staircase as if he already knew what she was going to say. She wouldn’t put it past him since he’d seen aeons go by, understanding the way of people even without having to say a single word. And morethan that, he’d always understood her before she’d even had the chance to understand herself.

One of the very reasons she loved him.

“I think you should be the one to kill him.” Crimson elucidated and withdrew her dagger. It twirled around until the ruby hilt faced Connor, the hearts towards his own. Since Altivar wasn’t a full Saint, it wouldn’t matter what blade did him in.

But it was the gesture that was important.

The blades he’d left behind in order to save her brother, leaving them in her care. He hesitantly took it, admiring the smoked steel, the simple handle, the intricate carving at the ends. He flipped it around, testing the weight before glancing up at her.

“I never thought these would be your talismans, but I’m glad that they were something so dear to you.” Connor carefully added it to his belt, making sure not to rip his garnet shirt, which already carried enough wear and tear from his days spent in the cells. He’d told her that he’d dropped everything to come home, and his appearance was only further proof of that.

Black pants that met with leather boots, age apparent in the cracks they bore. A red shirt with laces that had a few threads loose, and his coat that had seen better days. Even his cerise hair was ruffled, as if he tried to fix it over and over but to no avail. His belt was peeling and the buckle was tarnished gold, with flecks that provided that time hadn’t been kind to it- or him.

Her tongue ran over the bottom row of her teeth as she thought back to the years she’d spent without him. How she’d found the daggers, cursed him for leaving and then took them up in order to protect them both. How they were the things that helped her provide for them over the time.

In a way, he’d been there all along.

“I am too.” She responded and reassuringly squeezed hishand before finding herself at the last floor. Crimson wasn’t sure if that had been more for her, or for him.

West joined her and Connor came to her right as they contemplated where Altivar would have run off to.

There were two pathways that branched off, with golden railings that held lotus designs all along a square overhang. The floor painting of all the Saints stared up at them as Crimson found herself leaning more towards the right hallway. Her eyes closed, her palm pressed against her heart and she drowned every other sound out as she listened to one heartbeat in particular. It wasn’t hard to wash the others away, the fast and steady paces as she searched through the life forms and cast her powers out to one in particular.

A slower, drawn out beat that proved her instincts correct. Her lashes opened and she pointed to the second corridor.

“He’s down there.”

Her father grinned, “I knew you’d have magic, but I love watching it in action.”

Crimson flexed her fingers as she followed the breadcrumb trail of Altivar’s thrum, the flow of his semi-immortal blood. The closer she got, the louder it became. If she turned down the wrong hallway, it softened to a barely-there beat that she instantly corrected her path from.

It was a twinge of golden with green, a hint of ruby-red that signalled her attention. As if everyone’s heartbeat were different, leaving behind a familiar trace for her to follow.

West and Connor were on her heels, and she could sense the additional magic from her father as he listened too. It was the faint tendril of something else beside her as she searched with her own, the way another followed like an obedient hound dog. If her powers took on the shade of her namesake, then hiswere a slightly darker vermillion that differentiated them from the other.

It wasn’t because he didn’t trust her, she knew that much, but because he also couldn’t set his gifts aside. She wasn’t sure what the differences between them were since their powers were similar. Which led her onto the thinking track of if Cobalt would receive any powers similar to Muse’s, as his grandmother, or Altivar’s shapeshifting abilities.

Personally she hoped that he didn’t get any.

He’d already lived his life away from the standard of normal with his illness and all she wanted for him was to experience what his life should have been like. Powers would only make him stand out even more, regardless of if he were a full or lesser Saint. Her brother on the other hand, would definitely want them.

Which meant that his stubborn will- that she also had, if she had to admit it, something that came from their mother- would most likely grant him some of his own.

The heartbeat flared and she stumbled back, a warm grasp catching her as West’s chest became a wall of muscle. There were things to dothereas well, but those would come later. She was well aware that he wouldn’t fight it either, considering the amount of times his eyes darkened and his scent changed. How more people hadn’t discovered what he was, would always be a surprise to her since she found it to be as obvious as the silvery moon in its circular form.

But the beat led her to Altivar’s room, the one place he truly shouldn’t have been if he didn’t want anyone looking for him. Granted, he may not have bothered to hide in the first place, since he was still considered to be the sovereign of Tazali. His actions however, made it seem like he wanted to hide.

Crimson stalked for it, the door left ajar as shuffling soundsfollowed. She pushed it open, carefully peeking inside to find that he wasn’t in the main section. The snakes writhed in their tank by the entrance, wrapping over each other like twisting vines around a thick tree. She avoided them as much as she could, hating the hissing slithers that found her ears as if they had something to say to her. Even West grimaced and stepped towards her left, Connor behind her.

“He’s in here.” Her father confirmed, searching the area for a sign of the ochre skin, the dark brown braid and the citrine eyes. “I’ll check the bathing room.”

She heard theswooshof metal as he pulled her knife free.

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