Page 61 of Badmouths & Bards

“Right. What kind of assholes confess they love a girl and then ditch her because they gotta catch a ship for their next tour date?” Amer hummed. “It’s us. We’re the assholes.”

Casimine shook his head at the joke, “I just… I don’t know what to do, Amer.”

Ameriden tipped his chin up, fingers brushing along his smooth jaw. “We keep doing what we’ve been doing. We go finish getting ready and just work on getting through this dinner with his majesty. After that, we’ll figure it out. We don’t have to decide anything now, Casi, no matter how urgent it might feel. We have time. The birthday girl’s special day is still far ahead. Now breathe for me, baby.”

With a nod and damp eyelashes, Casimine held onto Ameriden and just breathed.

Chapter 27

Taldesa

The last time Tala had attended a formal dinner party, she had been just shy of sixteen. It had been a memorable affair for her family, because Tala had taken a pair of scissors to her hair. The only reason the length wasn’t shorter than her chin was because the maids had caught her. It had taken four staff members to pry the scissors from her—three maids and one full grown butler.

Her mother had been furious, even as she tried to save the mess Tala had made. In the end, Tala had still been forced into a gown that weighed twice as much as she did. Covered in frills and bows, Tala had curtsied and smiled when it was demanded of her. As the evening went on, she had even managed to behave long enough for her parents moods to improve as they held conversations with other nobles…until Tala had broken away from her family and infiltrated the kitchen staff for strawberry cake.

She had sworn over the half-eaten slice—wedged between a large column and a wall—that she would never allow her parents to drag her to one of these events ever again. Whether it was a trickster fae or some bored god that heard her, Tala’s wish was granted. She was sent to the Moon Maidens shortly after that. With the demands of gala obligations no longer in the cards for her, Tala had grown accustomed to living as a warrior. Loose fitted cotton, wooden weapons, and not a corset in sight. It was the one thing the Moon Maidens and the Valiant Circle had gotten right when it came to dress code.

Yet, Cercel didn’t say a damn thing about situations like this.

Within the privacy of her room, Tala stared at the expensive monstrosity hanging from the window. In the late afternoon sun, the garment was a stark contrast to what she was used to wearing. A fitted, high-collared vest with long, flowing sleeves that rivaled the gowns of fictional characters she had seen illustrated in Avie’s books. It descended into pants, with an ankle length half- skirt that fell to one side. It wasn’t exactly a dress, but it was really fucking close. It was also an obnoxiously bright aquamarine with ivory accents that screamed attention. Attention that Tala desperately didn’t want or need for her role that evening.

Cashmere Fantasy was meeting with the king and his daughter that evening, and Tala’s role was to keep an eye out for any potential security risks. Both for the bards and the monarchy. That had always been the main objective when the High Conservator had briefed her about the mission. Only, instead of doing it for the princess’s birthday, the event had been moved up to accommodate the change in schedule. Tala planned to follow that mission thoroughly, but her mind kept falling back to the two mysterious objects on her bedside table.

The ring was still cold—something that continued to bother Tala to no end. She had wanted to take it to the Enchanting Bauble, but knowing there were eyes on her had stalled her. The last thing she wanted to do was alert them further to what she was doing, but without a proper enchanter to verify the properties of the ring, it was becoming a weird thing Tala carried in her pockets. Ameriden had even teased her about it, claiming she was paranoid and that it was most likely just a gift from a fan.

Tala could almost concede to his way of thinking if he wasn’t such an overly confident bastard. The Valiant Circle had drilled it into Tala’s head that just because something appeared simple, didn’t mean it was. She had heard the stories from other members, of anarchists, alchemists, and sorcerers and their vast vaults of dangerous magical items. How a simple trinket could lead to boons or banes. There had even been a monk that had the misfortune to pick up a dagger and the damn thing had turned him into stone. It had taken months to find someone skilled enough to remove the curse on him.

No, the ring stayed with Tala until she could get it to Cercel. After speaking with the guard, Tala had managed to leave a note in a book at one of the market stores. It was a trick the monks had picked up from the thieves guild. A way to pass information without making it too obvious. Cercel had instructed that if she were to need anything, to contact him that way, which she did—granted the message was purposefully vague. When Tala went to check the book a day later, she found a similar message near the back.

Just desserts taste best with a song and view.

The reply would have made Avie’s brow furrow in confusion, but Tala recognized the meaning. Whether it was Cercel himself or another member of the Valiant Circle, someone would be at the castle tonight. She would meet them in the garden after the bard’s performance but before dessert and pass the ring off to them. The archive had more information of magical items and the man power to dedicate time in finding it.

A knock on her door made Tala briefly tense. She grabbed the ring and metal, shoving both beneath a pillow. Silently, she made her way to the door, one hand readying on her baton as she called, “Who is it?”

“Hey, it’s Seira.”

Tala let out a breath, unlocking the door and opening it with some relief. The last thing she wanted to do was show up to dinner with the king and have a giant black eye. Mysterious poison assassins be damned.

“Hey, I’m here to see if you need any help getting ready.” Seira grinned, barging into the room without any hesitation. Her hair was partially wrapped in curlers—at least, that’s what Tala thought they were. “Boys are still in the process of finalizing their jewelry, and, well, you know how men are.”

Come on in, Tala thought sarcastically.

“I don’t think I’ll need—”

“Look, I didn’t want to assume, but have you seen the back of this thing?” Seira asked as she kicked a chair over to the window and proceeded to climb up it.

True to her word, the moment Seira pulled the garment down and showed Tala the back, she wanted to curse. The fucking vest had lacing on the back—like the corsets her mother had wrangled her in the moment she started growing breasts. Tala was rather dexterous, but having to manage the intricate design of the lace would be a nightmare without a second pair of eyes.

“Why is it like that?” Tala asked.

“The tailors said when you lace it up properly, the back looks like a rose,” Seira shrugged. “Apparently, that’s the princess’s favorite flower. Now, come on. This thing isn’t going to wear itself.”

Unlike her mother, Seira was a much softer hand when it came to helping Tala. She didn’t make weird comments about her body and she didn’t spend the time reminding Tala how to entertain the son of a lord. If anything, Seira almost felt like a friend who was simply helping Tala get ready for an event. A friend who apparently had really shitty taste in men.

“So, there I am, all four foot eleven—with heels mind you—waiting for this man at one of the best taverns on this side of Ordia, in the middle of dust nothing IronGarde. I mean, I spent some time there growing up. Got family out there; it’s not a shit hole, it’s a nice place, but it’s still in the middle of gods damn nowhere. Anyway, I’m not there for a long time, I’m there for a good time, and you know what happens? This mother fucker doesn’t show up. I get myself all dolled up, and this bastard has the nerve to leave me hanging,” Seira sighed in frustration as she pulled on the lace. “Biggest mistake of my life.”

“Who was this guy, again?” Tala asked, with absolutely no intention of utilizing the archives records to track him down and beat the shit out of him.