Page 62 of Badmouths & Bards

“Some guy I met on the train to IronGarde years ago,” Seira huffed. “His name was Jacobus. Good looking—really toned ass—but the name, I didn’t really care for.”

By the time Seira finished lacing the vest and Tala had fastened the half skirt to her waist, she knew way more about no-show Jacobus than she knew about the poison assassin. Jacobus was a daemon, born and raised in IronGarde. He was blond-haired, puppy dog eyed, and had a pair of horns that may or may not be cute depending on Seira’s mood.

“Anyway, enough of that guy,” Seira huffed while she straightened the end of Tala’s half skirt. “How you feeling in this thing?”

“Like I don’t know where to put my batons,” Tala said with her hands on her hips.

“I spoke with the captain of the guards about this event. Weapons aren’t allowed,” Seira explained. “You can bring them to the front to get checked in with security, but you won’t be able to bring them to the formal event.”

Of course.

Well, that certainly complicated things. Tala had been trained in hand to hand combat before, but she preferred using the batons. They offered an extended reach, giving Tala the ability to take on opponents that might have the advantage when it came to strength.

Plus, it’s way easier to disarm a guy with a dagger with my batons than without.

Tala decided having her weapons for most of the travel was better than without. She attached them to her hip, hiding both beneath the skirt at her side.

“Okay, I think I’m ready for whatever this is,” Tala said.

“Oh,” Seira laughed. “You aren’t ready. I haven’t even tackled your hair.”

“What’s wrong with my hair?”

“You look like you’ve got a birds nest growing from the back of your head,” Seira explained. “Come on, sit in the chair and let’s try and tackle this.”

For whatever reason, having a woman half her height boss her around wasn’t as irritating as when Cercel did it. Tala was left to ponder what had changed—why she didn’t argue, but couldn’t figure out why. Even when Seira had produced a brush out of thin air and started yanking it through the strands, Tala couldn’t find her voice, let alone her anger.

“You got great hair, by the way,” Seira said. “If I had thick hair like this, I would always wear it down.”

Avie had said the same thing the few times they woke up hung over. She would bully Tala until she managed to grab her braids, claiming her bed head was too messy for civilization. Tala hadn’t complained much then, allowing Avie to run her fingers through her hair while they tried to piece the night back together.

“I don’t really think about it,” Tala admitted. “It’s just always been easier to have braids.”

“I do most of the boys’ shopping for their beauty products. Casimine uses this oil that does wonders.” Seira gathered a large chunk of hair. “Smells just like coconut.”

“I know,” Tala said with a sigh.

A beat went by and it wasn’t until it went for too long that Tala realized what she said.

“I thought as much,” Seira said, sighing like a disappointed sibling.

“I—”

“Don’t bullshit a bullshitter, hon,” Seira said as she moved to Tala’s field of vision. Her eyes were still trained on pulling Tala’s hair into something suitable for a dinner with royalty. “The boys think they’re slick, but they forget: I’ve been around a lot longer than they have. I know when something’s going on, even when they think I don’t.”

The tension in Tala’s body didn’t lessen, but she didn’t protest. This was going to happen sooner or later, and Tala figured there was no avoiding it. She’d finish out the evening and by tomorrow, Cercel would come by with her replacement—

“Do you love ‘em?”

The question startled Tala into moving. She jerked in her seat, but stopped as the tension on her hair grew taut.

“Seira, I shouldn’t—”

The manager of Cashmere Fantasy shuffled until she was directly in Tala’s line of sight. She didn’t appear angry, but her expression was serious.

“Do you love them?” Seira asked again.

Chapter 28