Page 51 of The Ballad of a Bard

West inhaled deeply. “Just another reason to find the elusive Heartache.”

Leysa issued a warning before he rejoined them. “Hurry, West. He may be running out of time.”

He felt the colour leech from his bronzed skin. The words felt like a death sentence, even if it hadn’t come to pass. “This could kill him?”

“It very well could.”

Twenty One

There was a painful clench of his gut as he tried to concentrate on the map in front of him, instead of the female who was half bent over the table. She held a magnifying glass, roving it over the continent with an eagle eye. West contemplated setting his own down, of turning to her and softly explaining what Leysa told him about her brother.

That Cobalt might not survive whatever was killing him. That they had no clue what it even was, or a solution to heal him. Nothing good, that was the information he had for her. But what good would it do to tuck her into the fold? To let her know that her brother could die and there was absolutely nothing that she could do to prevent it, stop it?

None.

But his righteousness struck him like a shining sword on a steel shield, relentlessly urging him to tell her.

Because sheshouldknow.

Sheshouldhave the chance to process it, understand that there may come a time when her life wouldn’t have a sibling.

West let out a long suffering sigh.

This,thiswas why he never got involved with mortals. It only confirmed his beliefs on the matter, only solidified his desire to shut down any bubbling emotions that stirred within him.

Crimson glanced up at him, holding the magnificent glass up. Within it, he could see the individual shades of green and brown, of gold and flicks of grey around the edges.

He couldn’t help it; his lip curved upwards.

“I can see all forty of your lashes when you do that.”

She blinked and it was like a massive spider crawled onto the lens, taunting him. “I can see the stars in your eyes. I thought they were just specks of amber, but they’re all sorts of colour.” She breathed out and held it even closer. Her body was mostlyonthe table now, but she didn’t seem to care.

“Oh?” West mused, leaning towards her. There was an undeniable draw that cursed him when it came to her. “What do they look like?”

Crimson frowned, tilted her chin to the side and lowered the glass. “You’ve never looked in a mirror before?”

He shook his head in denial. “I don’t care for the vanity of humans.”

“Well youshould.”

Heshouldtell her.

He wouldn’t.

At least not for now.

Perhaps after the ball.

“And why’s that?” West questioned instead as he pushed those annoying thoughts out of his head, tilting backwards until he slouched against the wooden railing of the chair that kept him upright. Any closer, and there wouldn’t have been air to breathe between them.

Boundaries, he reminded himself.

“I’m sure you’ve been told that you’re very attractive.” Crimson found something else to look at, as if the notion of telling him that he was pleasing to the eye, was mortally mortifying. “You should enjoy that part of yourself, even if it’s only in small doses.”

“Does that mean that you often stare at your reflection?” He rocked back and forth, bouncing on one of his black boot heels. The chaircreakedwith each up and down.

“We never had a mirror back in the apartment. It wasn’t something we could afford.” She explained and fell away from the table.

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