Page 50 of Badmouths & Bards

A hiss of pain escaped Tala’s mouth as she brought her batons up and caught the assailant’s arm between them. The dagger mere inches from her face, Tala glared, twisting her weapons until the pressure caused the figure—a man—to cry out. Securing his arm between her torso and baton, Tala brought the other baton up, preparing to slam it against the side of his neck. The wood was inches from striking when something sharp carved against the side of her rib. Tala grunted, felt the sharp bloom of a wound as she realized the man had a knife in his other hand.

Dual-wielding dagger motherfucker!

The intimacy of Tala’s fighting style had prevented the man from doing major damage to her body. Yet, despite missing her vital organs, Tala could feel the wound wasn’t shallow in the slightest. Tightening her grip on her baton, Tala gritted her teeth and slammed her weapon down against the man’s inner arm. The blow must have hit a nerve, because the dagger dropped onto the wet cobblestone below them. A quick turn of her wrist, and Tala locked up his other arm. Pressed chest to chest, there was nowhere for her assailant to run to.

“Who are you?!” she demanded, searching the stranger’s face.

Human, five foot eleven, dark hair, dark eyes, with a mole—

Spit hit Tala’s cheek before she could question him further. A wave of disgust went up Tala’s spine and whatever patience Cercel had bestowed was gone. That barely concealed rage that lived just beneath the exterior of Tala’s skin roared in her ears. Before she realized it, she was moving. A sharp kick to the center of the man’s chest sent him flying backward and Tala was right on his heels. She blocked him from getting to his feet, winding her baton back and connecting with his shoulder. Every blow was relentless, filled with the fury of a woman who had spent years being told what to do by people who had no right.

When the man’s back hit the wall at the end of the alley, he slid down until his hips met the ledge of an opening. He was bloody, bruised, and most likely humiliated. Tala wasn’t here to soothe his ego.

“Who are you?”

She wasn’t going to ask him again.

A wheeze passed between his lips and it took Tala a moment to realize he was laughing at her.

“The real question isn’t who I am,” the man said, voice shaking with mirth. “It’s whether or not you survive what I did to you.”

Chapter 22

Casimine

Casimine frowned down at the parchment before him.

Seira’s notes weren’t difficult to read. In fact, she had better penmanship than Amer. Maybe even Casimine himself, but that wasn’t the issue. Casimine had read the same messy story Seira had recorded at least five times now. There was a halfling, a wild desert landscape, and something called a sand slither—which Casimine guessed was some kind of monster, though he wasn’t familiar with it in the slightest.

The story wasn’t bad. Seira knew their process by now and could pull all the best details for Cashmere Fantasy to craft a song with. The problem was that it was past dinner and Tala hadn’t come back yet. It had been hours since she had left and based on what Seira told them, she should have been back by now.

Casimine had always been prone to worrying. It came from his life prior to college. Of living day by day, hoping that one day he would have enough gold and merit to apply for the entrance exam. Then, that worry had transformed from where his food was coming from to whether or not he had practiced lyrics enough to convey the emotions of a song. Whether he would gain the approval of the faculty, of his fans, and most importantly of all, Amer.

Maybe it was their physical encounter. Casimine had affection for a lot of the people he had shared a bed with over the years. It only made sense as he couldn’t imagine sleeping with someone he didn’t like—that was more Amer’s expertise. Affection meant the potential for other emotions like concern—

Here I am trying to rationalize my worry when I already know the answer, Casimine thought.

What happened between the three of them was so much more than just sex. Beyond exceeding any expectation of pleasure, Casimine had felt something fundamentally shift in that moment. This wasn’t just a tryst that would endure while Tala was assigned to them as a bodyguard. What lay before Casimine was possibility solidifying into some kind of new reality. It wasn’t about the potential of falling in love, but the real, undeniable existence of love. While not the same as the love he held for Amer, Casimine could see the path that would take him there with Tala.

And that frightened him almost as much as when he first realized he loved Ameriden that way.

Casimine sighed.

“You okay, Casi?”

Sitting across the table, with a lute in his arms and a barely disguised look of concern across his face, was Ameriden. He had been lazily strumming, chasing the wave that would eventually become the melody of a song. It was normal for their process. Ameriden would find a beat and Casimine would string the words together until they were so in sync, they couldn’t remember how they completed a song.

“I’m—” Casimine cleared his throat. “I’m fine.”

Ameriden stared, though not unkindly. Still, it was enough for Casimine to crumple in defeat.

“I’m not fine,” he said with another tired sigh. “I can’t concentrate on finding a song in all this. I’m worried.”

“About performing in front of royalty?” Amer questioned. “Because, I can tell you, Casi, royalty is an illusion. It’s just a bunch of parchment that’s declaring some made up importance.”

Casimine shook his head. Ameriden had a peculiar dislike of nobles—though he could never get him to elaborate more on that. Truthfully, Casimine had suspected that Ameriden might have been the son of some kind of nobility, but he would never push the other bard for an answer. Patience was another gift Casimine had been blessed with, and he intended to wait for as long as Ameriden needed him to.

“I don’t care about whether the king likes our songs—or even the princess, surprisingly enough.” Casimine bit his lip. “I’m worried about our bodyguard.”