Page 67 of Badmouths & Bards

“They’ve already decided who you are, so it doesn’t matter what you do. And if none of it matters…” Tala caught the princess’s eye. “Then be whoever you wanna be. As long as you aren’t hurting anybody, I don’t see a problem here. If you’re the kind of person who wants to have dinner with two famous bards, be that person. But I don’t think you should let people who have no real say in your life decide who you are for you.”

The words surprised them both—Tala mostly because it sounded like something Cercel would advise. Whatever Princess Osonia was going to say, Tala would never know as her eye caught the tail end of ivory robes disappearing between a set of tall hedges.

“Excuse me, princess, I have a pressing matter I have to attend to,” Tala said before vaulting over the veranda rail and bolting in the direction Casimine went.

Chapter 30

Casimine

Casimine dropped onto the nearest stone bench he could find in the king’s garden. A fist pressed against his chest, his breath shaky as he tried to collect himself. Shame colored his cheeks a bright lilac and stung his memories as he closed his eyes.

He had been speaking with a small gathering of nobles, polite conversation at the height of Eshorion splendor. The topics weren’t complicated, barely even touching on political, yet the moment someone had inquired about Ameriden’s betrothal status, Casimine had felt his world drop out from beneath his feet.

It wasn’t the first time someone had asked. In college, Casimine was usually the person his fellow classmates would go to with questions about Ameriden. They were close enough that people knew that it was easier to come to him than the man in question. Blushing students would inquire about Ameriden’s likes or dislikes, trying desperately to pull any information they felt would give them the advantage of winning his roommate’s affections.

When they had started traveling the road together as bards, Ameriden’s admirers had grown bolder. That hadn’t lasted very long the moment they reached a new level of fame and the culture of bard and fan had taken over. Fans could flirt, could follow them on the road, and maybe if they were lucky, sleep in their bed…

But marriage?

That would never be a possibility as long as Cashmere Fantasy continued touring Ordia. For the question to be asked about Ameriden’s hand in marriage—the noble was completely out of touch with the bard community, or they believed themselves above those silly cultural expectations. Either way, it had left Casimine open and vulnerable in a sea of bodies. Suddenly, the room was too small, the people too loud.

It should have been easy. Why does it feel like I can’t breathe?

Casimine had politely excused himself and the moment his feet touched the floor of the hallway, he fled in the direction of the garden. Hands clutching the bottom of his robes as his feet carried him past the curtain of a veranda and into the open space of the garden. The beads in his hair delicately clinking with every step he took until Casimine found himself lost within the deepest parts of a hedge maze. His heart was still beating wildly, as if he was being hunted by some unseen creature.

When had he become so fragile? He and Ameriden had an understanding when it came to their bed—more than that, they were in love. Yet every admiring eye, every question about Ameriden, suddenly felt like a threat to Casimine, to their relationship. A stark contrast to how Casimine felt when he thought of Tala beside him. Beside them.

Tala was now in his heart, slowly molding herself inside a space he had long reserved for Ameriden alone. She didn’t perfectly fit in there—not yet—but the only difference between new love and old love was time. Casimine knew she would become so entwined with them both, that it would be impossible to let her go.

But what then? Will I collapse into tears if someone comes to take her, too? What if her friend shows up and Tala decides she doesn’t want us anymore? What if she doesn’t want ME?

The despair overwhelmed Casimine and he buried his head into his hands, wishing desperately to disappear into nothing. Even if it was for just a moment, being anywhere but at the king’s castle was preferable. Yet, the urgent need to escape—both his surroundings and his own mind—conflicted with why Casimine had worked so hard to become a bard in the first place. Faces obscured by time danced behind his eyelids as that horrible rumbling of earth echoed in his ears—

“Casimine.”

He tensed, recognizing the voice immediately and wishing he had gone deeper into the garden. Unlike Ameriden, who would have rushed to his side immediately, Tala was slower to approach. Even in the dimly lit garden, Casimine could see her shadow stretching toward him in the small space between his fingers. The shadow was replaced by the material of Tala’s pants.

“Casimine?”

“I’m fine,” he said, a slight tremor to his voice.

“You don’t sound fine.”

“I’m fine.”

Tala sighed and for a moment, Casimine hoped she would go away. It conflicted greatly with his desire for her to touch him. How selfish was he to want her comfort and to deny it? Still, she decided for him as Tala’s hands enclosed around his wrists and gently pried his hands away.

Casimine’s vision was blurry from tears he had done his best to keep at bay. He had always been emotional—a trait his older sisters had teased him mercilessly about until… until they didn’t anymore. Whatever judgmental stare he had been expecting wasn’t there to greet them. If anything, the worry on Tala’s face suited her even less than her angry one.

“Your eyeliner’s gonna be ruined if you keep this up,” Tala said, reaching up to clean his face.

He shrunk away, realizing she meant to use her sleeve to do so. It didn’t deter Tala in the slightest as she held him still. Regardless, the guilt of ruining her lovely outfit fell onto Casimine’s already defeated shoulders.

“I didn’t even get to say how beautiful you look and you’re already ruining your clothes,” Casimine said with a pouty sniff.

“Wow,” Tala chuckled with disbelief. “You’re out in the king’s garden crying and you somehow still have the energy to put on that prince act of yours.”

“It’s not an act,” Casimine protested, albeit a bit weakly before admitting. “Most of the time…it’s something I just naturally started doing from a young age.”