Page 43 of The Ballad of a Bard

“He’s not that hard to figure out, as long as you know how to read him.” Crimson muttered under her breath. She’d only known him for a week and yet she felt as though he was a lifelong friend.

“And you know how to read him, do you?” He quickly leaned forward until his elbows rested on his knees, legs spread wide.

“Like aSaints-damnedbook.” She smiled, stealing a swipe of sharpness from her weapons and adding it to her teeth. He appeared to see it, faltering back an inch. “But maybe that’s because like you said, I’m Captain Westley Saint’slover.” She threw his own words back at him.

“There you are.” West’s voice found her ears.

Crimson’s cheeks heated to the point of no return, her rolling stomach turned leaden and a biting chill went through her as if someone left a window open in the midst of autumn as he overheard their conversation, her words. Crimson turned to see him standing in the doorway.

“I was looking for you.” His sapphire studded eyes fell on the wayward Prince who merely wiggled his long fingers in greeting. “Why are you in here?”

“Do relax, guard dog. I was simply showing your dazzling partner here around the castle a tad bit more. I found her wandering on her own, you see, and thought she might benefit from the pleasure of my company.” He explained but didn’t rise from his lazy position on the couch. “We were having a lovely conversation about you just now.”

“I heard.” West was short and blunt with him, edging closer to her. His hand braced along her lower back and she had to remind herself not to jump at his sudden proximity. It was all for show, this game they would play to sell the reason that she was here. “Are you ready to go? I figured we’d visit Cobalt before heading to the room for a meal together.”

His fingers curled around her hip and her heart melted into it, purred like a damned cat at his touch. Altivar honed in on it, a sly grin tugging on his face that made her gut feel ill.

“Cobalt. What a fascinating name.” Altivar murmured as he checked the underside of his nails. They were perfect, of course, but that didn’t stop the Prince from finding something else more interesting than the conversation in front of him. “What’s your last name, Crimson?”

“She doesn’t have one. Most of the folk in the slums don’t have one. Last names aren’t common in the Bronze Gate.” He answered for her, slick and smooth like an ice patch hardening over.

“Is that so?” His stare met hers, not West’s as he awaited an answer.

But the captain still spoke for her. “Yes.”

Crimson dipped her chin in alignment with his response. “Just one name here, Prince Altivar.”

“If you insist.” He seemed to not believe her, focus slitting until they were barely more than a reptile’s. “Can’t wait to see the pair of you at the ball in three days. I do hope you’ll dress for the occasion. It would be rather bland if you showed up in your uniform, Captain.”

“The Empress has already enforced a strict dress code into me. Rest assured that I’ll be properly dressed for it.” West said through gritted teeth.

“Good. Enjoy the rest of your day.”

“Come on, Heartstrings. Let’s go.” He uttered to her, quietly so that only she heard. West pushed her forward, out of the room but didn’t remove his hand from her lower back for the entire way.

Eighteen

They didn’t go to see her brother in the healing ward, instead heading for his apartments on the second floor. His hand gently pressured her along, moving beside him as he remained silent. Not a single sentence passed between them until they were confined inside his rooms.

“What did he want with you?” West asked as he slung off his grey satchel and set it to hang on his office chair.

“To get to know me. Or, that’s what he claims the reason for it was.” Crimson said. She followed his movements as he unbuttoned his jacket and shrugged it off his muscled shoulders, revealing the clean white tunic underneath.

“What did you talk about?”

“A little bit of everything. My name, how we met, how I liked the palace so far, how well I know you…” She trailed off as he started to push at the buckle on his pants. Crimson did everything within her power not to bite her bottom lip as his shirt tugged upwards a tad.

“And what did you tell him?” He asked as he unclipped his sword and added it to his chair.

She crossed her arms. “Is this an interrogation?”

He snapped his face up to hers, blanching. “No, not at all. Is it coming off that way?”

“A bit.”

“My apologies. That wasn’t my intention, at all.” West sighed, dragging a hand through the front of his hair. “Altivar most likely suspects that we aren’t telling the truth. He’s… tricky.”

“He’s an asshole.” Crimson mumbled. “I can see why you don’t like being forced to be around him.”

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