Page 23 of Badmouths & Bards

Taldesa cursed again. “Thank you for being concerned about me. You don’t have to be so… thanks.”

“Of course,” he replied.

Before Casimine could even think about continuing the conversation, Taldesa tapped his back, sending him forward. It was a clear dismissal, but one that Casimine didn’t take personally. He only laughed under his breath. Progress was progress, or so he thought as he pretended to go back to his novel while eyeing Taldesa as she examined the roses.

Roses didn’t ring a bell for Casimine. The incident had been so sudden, that it had been impossible for him to recall anything unusual prior. Gifts were part of the process—same as having overly excited fans who got too aggressive. At least, that’s what Casimine had been told when Cashmere Fantasy first started as an opening act for Gildeon Almond—the bard who had recorded stories for over four hundred years.

Casimine could remember Gildeon’s perfect golden skin—made even more luxurious by his golden outfit—as the elf made eye contact through his vanity mirror.

‘The stage really is where we put our best selves forward. If you want to make it in this business, it’s best to remember that… but be warned, Casimine. Once they choose to adore you, they will try to possess you. Think clearly if that’s what you want, otherwise you’ll drown.’

The words had felt out of place at the time, but as Casimine watched Taldesa’s rough fingers slowly pull the bouquet apart, he suddenly felt weighed down by it. It wasn’t enough that he couldn’t show his real affection for Ameriden in public. Bard culture demanded that bards were married to their fans, and dating was seen as a career killer. No, Casimine also had to worry about who they invited into their bed—because it was fine if bards indulged in orgies, but gods forbid if any of them fell in love.

Casimine’s eyes lingered on Taldesa’s fingers as she examined each rose. She had strong fingers—steady hands, too. Hands that Casimine had thought about way more than what was appropriate, but it wasn’t just Taldesa’s body that had captivated Casimine, it was her. Something about the woman—a rough charisma—had so easily weaseled into Casimine’s mind. It wasn’t love—that space was for Ameriden—but it felt a lot like a promise. The promise of pleasure and company enjoyed if he and Ameriden could just convince her that it was a good idea.

He knew she thought about Ameriden’s body—though he wasn’t entirely certain in which way. Her eyes tended to linger on Ameriden’s abdomen and arms, but one could argue she was simply admiring his form as a warrior. Taldesa’s eyes fixating on Casimine’s face? That was a lot more obvious to Casimine, for his face was something that had always guaranteed admirers. His voice just solidified that attraction.

“Shit,” Taldesa cursed, pulling her finger back with a small hiss.

Before Casimine realized it, he had dropped his book and had moved to her side. A small well of blood pooled on Taldesa’s finger, the offending rose with the thorn had fallen onto the table.

“Are you all right?” Casimine asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine, it just hurt,” she grumbled. “Fuck.”

“I could help with that,” he offered, his hand hovering near her injured finger. “That is, if you’ll allow me?”

The familiar suspicious stare lingered, but Casimine revealed nothing. His patience was rewarded when she shifted her weight to the side, lifting her finger just an inch toward his outstretched hand. It was a silent consent, but one he wouldn’t argue with.

Delicately, Casimine cradled her finger between his own and bent low to examine the wound. Without much thought, he began to hum the familiar lullaby of the Water Mother. The magic in his throat built, pooling near the back of his mouth. Once it reached his tongue, Casimine opened his mouth and took Taldesa’s finger inside.

The sound she made was a mix of utter shock and embarrassment. It only grew worse as Casimine dragged his tongue across the wound and felt the magic heat up her skin. Her blood was bitter, but it rapidly began to fade the longer Casimine sucked on the wound.

Taldesa’s mind must have caught up with his actions, because she suddenly flicked his forehead with enough force to smart. Casimine jolted back, releasing her finger, and reaching up to rub the tender spot on his forehead.

“You fucking weirdo!” she snapped, looking more flustered than ever. “What the fuck, man—”

“Oh, look,” Casimine pointed. “Your finger’s healed.”

Chapter 11

Taldesa

Tala didn’t understand magic.

When she had just been the only daughter of the Valay family, they had hoped she would take up arcane studies. As long as your family had the gold and the right connections, it was easy enough to send a child to an academy. When Tala presented with zero talent for magic, it had just been one of the many ways she had continued to disappoint her family.

It was almost ironic that when she had been sent off to the Moon Maidens, part of their training involved magic. Less on how to cast it and more on how to dismantle it. Balance had always been stressed—both with the Moon Maidens and the Valiant Circle. Clerics were meant to heal, paladins were meant to protect, scholars were meant to learn, but monks were meant to fight. Tala knew she was meant to act as a foil to the arcane if push came to shove.

But fuck, if magic isn’t weird!

Tala’s finger—while… wet—was in fact healed as Face had said. Her finger was perfectly smooth and tingled with the familiar air of newly cast magic. It was a subtle sensation—one she had learned to sense where others couldn’t. Similar to the charge of lightening about to strike, it made the fine hairs on the back of her arms stand on end.

“What, no thank you?” Face questioned, hovering way too close to her side.

Heat flooded Tala’s face, the scowl on her face aimed directly at his smug expression. It wasn’t fair that he looked like that—exactly like something out of one of Avie’s romance novels. Gray eyes dancing with mirth, his wide, full lips wet from where he licked them. Tala’s breath caught in her throat as he inclined his head toward her, almost like—

“Thanks for slobbering all over me like a dog,” Tala snapped as she shoved her palm against his face and pushed him back. “Was that fucking necessary?”