Page 73 of Badmouths & Bards

A shared glance with Casimine solidified another lie to their manager.

“Wash room,” Ameriden said.

“And let me guess, you two couldn’t wait five minutes before rushing off somewhere to make out?” Seira sighed.

Ameriden almost tripped on his own foot at the question. Seira had been aware of their relationship—even if she didn’t know all the details—but it was the first time she had been that direct about it.

“No,” Casimine ran a finger at the corner of his eye. “No, I…I was overwhelmed by the crowd and I just needed a moment to myself. Ameriden followed.”

It wasn’t a huge stretch, as he had followed Casimine once he realized his partner had disappeared from his field of vision. Ameriden had excused himself without a bit of concern for his dance partner’s disappoint or curiosity. All that had mattered was finding Casimine and once he had seen him with Tala? Well, his dick had sort of taken over—but that didn’t change the fact that Casimine had been tense throughout the evening. The edge of anxiety pulling at the corners of his smiles as he spoke with strangers.

“Oh, Casimine,” Seira said softly, stepping toward him. She took his hands in hers, a gesture of comfort. “I’m so sorry for not thinking about that. This was supposed to be an intimate dinner, not an entire stage show. I should have prepared you better.”

Seira wasn’t the only one who should have kept that in mind. Casimine would never accept his apologies for not staying by his side the way he should have. Mostly because Casimine hated it when he fussed too long, but they had always been so careful about how much they lingered in the other’s company. Outside of the stage, they had both understood the implications of intimacy that wasn’t meant to be a performance. That didn’t stop the guilt from tearing Ameriden’s insides.

This is his first public appearance since the incident—since his privacy was violated. I should have kept a better eye on him, I should have paid more attention—

“It’s fine,” Casimine assured. “It was just a moment and it’s over now.”

Casimine’s posture said differently. He looked like he was one strong wind away from falling over. Beneath his soft smile was an anxiety Ameriden had started noticing shortly after the incident. Casimine was a skilled bard, a brilliant performer, and that was truly the only reason Seira hadn’t been able to see how damaged he really was. A fan wouldn’t be able to see it the way Ameriden did. He was so close that it was impossible for him not to. The subtle tremor in Casimine’s body whenever there was a knock on the door. The small delay when newcomers had introduced themselves at the party.

And now things are even more complicated because the other love of his life ran away and he can’t do anything about it. I can’t do anything about it… I can’t help either of them. I couldn’t even tell Casi about who I really am, how the fuck was I going to get Tala to stay with us?

“Are you sure?” Seira asked. “You have twenty minutes before you need to prepare for your performance. I can delay it a bit more. You know I’ve got a reasonable excuse for every occasion!”

“Positive,” Casimine said. “I just need a nice, stiff drink and I’ll be right to perform.”

“Or two,” Ameriden said. “Let’s go.”

Chapter 33

Taldesa

The garden was darker the further Tala got lost in it. She would have spent more time admiring the pristine roses and intricate topiary if she wasn’t in the middle of hating herself. Admittedly, there was a lot to loathe about herself in the moment.

Failed at being a bodyguard. Failed at being a best friend. Failed at finding the origin of a mystery and finding the poison assassins…and majorly fucking failed at maintaining what’s probably been the best thing that could ever happen to you.

It didn’t matter how many times Tala fucked up, it would never stop hurting. Anger may have been her go-to, but shame and regret were frequent house guests. They lingered long after the anger faded, leaving Tala mute and absolutely useless. The only thing that ever seemed to keep her from being buried beneath it all was training. Punching wooden structures until her knuckles were bleeding was how she coped with it all.

But here, in the middle of the most expensive garden Tala had ever seen in her life, there was nothing to vent her frustration on. No no-name to pummel into the dirt, no challenge to overcome with her reflexes. Just the overbearing swell of her emotions doing their best to swallow her whole and even still, Tala didn’t cry, and that was somehow worse.

Avie would always refuse to believe she was broken. No matter how many times Tala had brought it up, pressed against her shoulder and drunk out of her mind with despair. And whenever Tala pushed the topic, Avie would staunchly shake her head.

“If you were really broken, we wouldn’t be friends,” Avie had hiccuped. “And we’re best friends, so your brain is silly, silly.”

It was never going to go away. The doubt, the self-deprecation, the knowledge that Tala could be liked, maybe even loved, but not for very long. There was an expiration on all of her relationships, and the deciding factor was—as always—her.

Get it together, Valay. Tala shut her eyes tightly, as if she could force her mind to disconnect from her emotions. You have a job, think about the gods damn job—

Tala didn’t register her body moving until she was already locking the incoming strike against her torso. Her right hand shot up, preparing to block the next move of her assailant, but they struck against her thigh, separating them. She readied a defensive stance, eyes adjusting in the pale light of the flickering lanterns the face of the—

“Wait,” Tala scoffed as the face of her attacker caught her off guard. “I know you. You’re one of No-name’s buddies.”

Tala didn’t know his name, but she recognized the face. He was tall with tightly compact muscles that Tala would have killed to have when she was eighteen. Dressed in attire that was passable for a royal gala, but not so much as to stand out. A human man with light brown skin, dark hair and eyes wasn’t going to be as memorable as the orange peacock feather lady, and that was kind of the whole point.

“If you’re referring to Mikol, he sends his regards,” the man said with dry humor in his deep voice.

“Yeah?” Tala lifted a brow. “How’s his nose?”