Page 12 of Badmouths & Bards

“What if I want you to say it?”

Want you.

Now was not the time to get aroused, but gods fucking damn it, Casimine made it impossible sometimes.

“It’s been a while since we’ve… collaborated.” Ameriden whispered.

Seira had gained some distance, but they would be able to catch up in no time. At least, that’s what Ameriden told himself, but his brain was a bit preoccupied with the soft smile that was curling at the corners of Casimine’s mouth.

“It has been a while,” Casimine replied. “Do you miss it?”

I miss you. I miss you and I’ll take you anyway you’ll let me, Casi, just tell me what you want and it’s all yours—

“We did get here early. We have a few months before the first performance for the king so…” Ameriden nudged his boot against his. “Figure it couldn’t hurt. Slip away for a few hours?”

Casimine laughed, that soft and gentle thing that could easily make any fan fall to their knees. Ameriden was no exception, but he tightened the muscles in his calves to try and keep from stumbling.

“That sounds like it could be fun,” Casimine replied with a twinkle in his eye. “Though, let’s give it a few days, if that’s all right? I’d like to get a bit more familiar with the city before we wreck havoc.”

“Awesome!” Ameriden grinned, pumping a fist in his excitement.

“I’ll even let you pick the place,” Casimine said.

It was hard to keep the excitement at bay, but the promise of being with Casi—even with the aid of another—brought an extra skip to Ameriden’s steps.

Chapter 6

Casimine

The Golden Manor had been quick to accommodate them once Seira had tossed a bag of gold onto the counter.

Casimine hated how much precious gems and gold had the world in a bind, but he was thankful nonetheless. Before he was accepted into college, Casimine had only a few silver to his name. He had worked in a bakery that had only paid him enough to afford his long-term board at an inn across town. His face is what afforded him bread and the small wedge of cheese—Casimine had never questioned that.

Perhaps if he had been more comfortable with intimacy at the time, he could have found himself working at a brothel. Casimine had been propositioned enough times on the way home, but he never found himself interested, no matter how desperate he was for coin. Because the goal was never to survive, it was to thrive. To utilize the gift of his voice and lyrics to bring crowds to tears and truly be independent.

And look at you now.

Casimine stood in the middle of a luxurious gold and white sitting area. He and Ameriden had dropped their glamours once Seira had locked the door behind them. The floor was covered in carpet with ornamental floral designs. The ceiling was high and painted with half naked lovers embracing. From across the room, a double door led toward the bedroom where a massive four poster bed sat on a raised dais.

“Are we sure this isn’t a love inn?” Ameriden joked as he placed Dumpling’s enclosure on the coffee table.

“You’re thinking of the Tipsy Top Inn,” Seira said from her position at the small dining table at the other end of the sitting room. Her satchel—which was always stuffed with parchment and gold—was set in front of her as she rifled through it. “Prices are good, you can find some decent company—at least, last I checked.”

Ameriden raised his eyebrow at Casimine, seeking approval.

“Don’t even think about going there, boys,” Seira scolded as she began unpacking. “You might be new to this city, but that doesn’t mean the city doesn’t know you.”

A small tinge of guilt formed in Casimine’s stomach. Given their history of sneaking out in the middle of the night, he didn’t blame Seira’s caution. Granted, she had only caught them once, but it was enough for her to realize they had frequently been going out without any personal guards.

Ameriden must have thought the same, because he linked his hands behind his neck and grinned at their manager.

“Aw, c’mon, Seira, don’t you trust us?”

“I trust you, it’s them I don’t trust,” Seira barked.

Them being the fans, of course. Casimine tried not to think about it, but the incident at the inn had only reminded him of the fragility of his position. Or rather, his own weakness. Fans were proof that you were successful—a type of success that had a different value than coin. Musicians, story tellers, singers—they all thrived when they captured the hearts of their audience, but nobody had told Casimine about the harsh realities of what that meant.

So many people thought they were owed his attention, his energy—which, in some ways was true. But the difference was those terms had always meant to be set by him and Ameriden. So, when fans starting rallying around the inns they were staying—when they started breaking in to their living quarters—something had changed. Cashmere Fantasy was no longer a simple duo of bright-eyed water hanfen, but two internationally known and very influential people.