Page 65 of Badmouths & Bards

Chapter 29

Taldesa

The only problem with being part of an order like the Valiant Circle, was the members who were trained for intelligence work. From sleuths to spymasters, Tala could think of a dozen of trained monks above Cercel’s station that could infiltrate a gala hosted by the king of Eshorion. But a name was not the same thing as a face, and given Tala had never been motivated to learn the names of the faces she met at the archive…

Like finding a unicorn in the middle of a damn ocean.

Tala did her best to stay on high alert as the evening pressed on. Any opportunity to opt out of conversation was better served with keeping her eyes on the immediate area. It wasn’t just about finding her contact, but growing familiar with the faces in the crowd. She discredited half the guests already—based entirely on how memorable they were. An assassin would utilize the only woman dressed in orange dyed peacock feathers as a distraction.

But that still presents a problem…how do I tell the difference between a member of the Valiant Circle and the guys in league with that dead poison guy?

The question weighed on her mind as she counted exits. The main entrance where they had entered. The two at the base at of the stairs that most likely led toward the servants quarters and the kitchens. Three on Seira’s left that led to private verandas overseeing the garden, and three on the right containing a hall that would take guests to a dining hall.

When Seira had first mentioned the impromptu dinner, Tala hadn’t thought much of it. Outside of the guards, staff, and the heads of the monarchy themselves, it was a guest list Tala could have easily managed. Now? Tala was certain that there had to be several hundred people in attendance, many of which were both of great importance and had traveled from long distances. What surprised Tala the most was that she even recognized some of the nobles, thanks to the Valiant Circle.

The Tel’vera family was the first that caught Tala’s eye. Lady Tel’vera was a descendant of one of the founding members of the Valiant Circle while her husband, Balthazar, was an esteemed lawyer. Tala had studied a few of his cases whenever she grew bored in the archives, noting that Balthazar Eaves had a pattern of representing the underdog. It was rumored that his choices were driven by his only daughter’s unexpected lineage. Daemon children were heavily stigmatized by elites, but Balthazar was never caught on record talking poorly about his daughter’s traits. In fact, he only appeared to speak highly of her, which in Tala’s books meant he wasn’t a complete asshole.

Just mostly, Tala thought as she eyed the older human man and his half-elven wife.

A few familiar merchants waltzed by to the tune of the small ensemble and their instruments. Laughter broke through the noise of loud conversation, glasses clinked as connections were made and deals were set. All of it was familiar and off-putting at the same time, but Tala’s disdain for the entire evening didn’t deter her from either of her tasks.

Ameriden had been swept up in a dance with a blonde, human woman. While many people wore shades of white as a symbol of reverence for King Oryin’vel monarchy, Ameriden and Casimine were the only ones who really shined in ivory. That wasn’t to say that their outfits were more expensive or even more lavish than some of the guests.

There’s that woman in the fucking orange peacock feathers…

No, it was something in how the two bards carried themselves. They commanded the room, whether they were aware of it or not. Their charisma—the same that had brought Tala to the point of wanting to knock their skulls together—was fully on display. Casimine’s smile—the same one that made Tala embarrassingly weak at the knees, was making even the most stuffiest of old elves blush. His beauty was effortless, his mannerisms languid as he was offered wine and appetizers.

Ameriden was no better. Instead of regaling a crowd, his dance card was being filled faster than Tala could keep track. One moment he had been with a blonde, and now he was dancing with a dwarven man. He moved in a way that would have made Tala’s dance teacher sob. Ameriden was assured, confident, and without a single misstep in sight as he spun with his dance partner.

Fuck, even Seira was gathering a small crowd of admirers. Tala could practically see the smitten expressions on their faces as Seira waved her polished fingers around, breaking into a boisterous laugh. Socializing was definitely in the trios wheelhouse, and here Tala was just trying to go about unnoticed.

Assassins, the Valiant Circle, my charges. Assassins, the Valiant Circle, and my charges—

Wait.

Tala froze as she registered a sound. She strained to hear, doing her best to drown out the noise as she lowered her gaze to the marbled floor.

No, that’s definitely a sound… like…

Eyeing her surroundings, Tala ducked behind the column she had pressed her back to. Whatever had been making that odd sound had definitely come from one of the verandas. The boots that Seira had saddled her with weren’t as quiet as her normal shoes, but Tala moved as silently as she could in them. As she neared the swaying curtain of one of the veranda’s, the sound that had caught her ear finally made itself known.

Crying.

Someone was crying and there was no way to tell if it was cries of distress or something else entirely. There were no warning bells in Tala’s head, but she readied herself for whatever she would find. Tala grasped the edge of the curtain, and pulled it aside, only to reveal a woman flung across a marble slab.

The woman gasped, hurriedly wiping her tears away from her face at being discovered. She was young, half-elven by the look of her shortened ears, and dressed in a glittering white gown that reminded Tala way too much of a cupcake. Beneath the dim lantern lights of the veranda, her dark brown skin glowed. Strawberry blonde hair fell in waves down her shoulders, catching on the more ornate details of her dress.

Stunned, Tala gurgled an apology and keyed to leave just as gracefully.

“Oh, no, no!” the woman protested, dabbing at her watery brown eyes with a delicate handkerchief. “Please, don’t apologize. I am the one in such an embarrassing state.”

Her voice was soft—almost like she didn’t talk very often. If Tala hadn’t already been focusing on listening for danger, she’d likely not even have heard her.

“No, no,” Tala waved an arm. “You’re not embarrassing—totally not.”

Fuck, she really had zero social skills, huh? A woman was crying and here Tala was, fumbling as if someone had handed her a newborn fire salamander. She had to temper the urge to pull at her hair—mostly because the familiar braids weren’t available for her to do so and Seira would throw a fit if she touched her work.

“I’m pathetic looking, you can say it,” the woman assured with depressing ease. “Look at me.”