7. Taldesa
Taldesa
Despite Cercel’s insistence, Tala had refused the traditional Valiant Circle motif.
She understood the importance of dressing in the colors of the Dauntless Verity—which is why she kept the sheer sash around her waist. The rest of her outfit was still in shades of purple and silver—the colors associated with the Moon Maiden.
Given the bullshit assignment the High Conservator had given her, Tala figured the darker color scheme would make it easier for her to hide in crowds.
Plus, I even bothered to put makeup on, so I shouldn’t look that unkempt.
It was amazing what a little eye shadow and a lip could do—according to Avie anyway.
Her shoes were clean, calves wrapped in muted purple with silver lining up the sides.
She had swapped her loose fitted pants for a pair of wrap shorts.
It showed off a bit of her thighs, but Tala wasn’t self conscious about it the way she was about her tits.
The purple sleeveless top she wore extended all the way to the top of her neck, leaving her upper arms bare save for the wraps around her forearms and fingerless gloves.
Her hair—well, she could never really tame that mess.
Tala had at least brushed out the waves before she set them in two loose braids that hung to her waist.
Overall, Tala assumed she looked professional for a bodyguard—whatever the fuck that meant—even with her pack haphazardly thrown over her back.
She understood that she was supposed to protect two very famous people—though, how famous they could be given Tala had never heard of them before?
The High Conservator hadn’t given her any additional details.
Just that Tala would be doing this gig for the next four months.
Tala had a strong poker face, but even she could admit that her jaw fell a tiny bit at the sight of the two helfen men across the room. They both had hair in a similar shade of blue-green—like apatites. And while their skin was blue, the shades were different enough that Tala noticed.
As for how they were dressed—she had never really paid attention to the rich snobs at the top of the tower.
She couldn’t accurately describe if their outfits were appropriate, only that her gaze immediately trained onto the taller one.
He was practically in a crop top, all wide shoulders with abs that made Tala jealous and strangely excited.
An eight pack? What does this dude do for his workout routine, dead lift stone giants?
The shorter one—well, if Tala had thought Crop Top was good looking, he had nothing on that guy’s face.
For a brief moment, Tala questioned if the second guy was real.
He had cheekbones that could have cut diamonds, a wide mouth that hinted at some secrets, and light gray eyes that twinkled with magic—
‘Twinkled with magic?’ For fuck’s sake, I’ve read too many of Avie’s romance novels.
“We’re so grateful you’re here,” the woman said, staring up at Cercel as if he hung the moon.
The urge to tell the lady not to break her neck was on the tip of her tongue, but Cercel must have sensed it because he shot Tala a look that clearly read as, ‘Don’t you dare’.
Tala bit the inside of her lip, glaring at him.
“Thank you for trusting the Valiant Circle with this mission,” Cercel said, all sweet words.
Cercel ducked low enough to clear his horns from the door frame and Tala followed after, allowing the woman to shut the door behind them.
Ordinarily, she didn’t like it when people were behind her, but she was pretty sure the woman didn’t run the same kind of tests of abilities the way the High Conservator had.
“I grew up on this continent, so I’ve only ever heard good things,” the woman said as she lead them in. “Come, sit!”
The group of five gathered in the center of one of the biggest private rooms Tala had ever seen.
Avie was usually the one buzzing about the Golden Manor—about how it was supposedly the fanciest place in all of Eshorion.
Tala had nodded, but honestly, she was content with just going to the Tipsy Top Inn.
Plus, the barmaids knew them by name and would occasionally top them off whenever Tala would throw out the trash.
The woman sat on a plush, low chair while Cercel awkwardly sat on an ottoman.
Crop Top and Face shared a lounge seat—something Tala had only given a second glance at when she saw their thighs brush.
She pushed the observation aside, dropping her bag to the floor and plopping into the other low chair in a manner that was less than professional based on how Cercel was eyeing her.
Tala glanced down at her posture and shrugged.
She agreed to not say anything that might ruin first impressions, but Cercel hadn’t said a damn thing about having to sit a certain way.
Arm thrown across the back of the chair, one leg thrown over the arm rest, and the other spread out in front of her wasn’t that bad.
I could be really manspreading it here, Tala thought as she glanced at her nails.
The polish that Avie had applied was cracked, but she hadn’t had the heart to scrape it off with a knife. It was silly, but Tala had promised to not touch the paint until Avie came back.
“I’m going to bring you the best polish you have ever seen!”
“I’m a little surprised the Valiant Circle sent two of you,” Seira said after a moment of awkward silence. “I was under the impression the High Conservator could only spare one of your warriors.”
“Not that we’re complaining,” Face said, resting his chin in his palm and batting those long sea blue eyelashes at Tala.
The fuck?
There was no way Face was… what the fuck was he doing?
Tala wasn’t dense, but she was aware that there was something she was missing here.
Something that should have been obvious, but it just wasn’t landing right.
Her suspicion grew worse as Crop Top’s lips turned into the wickedest smirk Tala had ever seen.
“Not at all,” Crop Top hummed, lifting his arms above his head to stretch.
Crop Top’s top shifted, showing off more of his abs and a sliver of his pecs.
Did this dude wreck his muscles that morning?
He had to—how else did he manage to get that kind of muscle definition when Tala couldn’t even get rid of the small bit of fat around her own stomach?
She was starting to think Crop Top probably never went out for drinks or did anything fun.
Wait, he’s a water helfen… how the fuck is he functioning being that dehydrated?
The question would have kept Tala occupied for a few moments, if Cercel’s gruff voice didn’t draw her focus back.
“Oh, I’m not staying,” he said. “I’m just here to make sure everything goes smoothly.”
Tala rolled her eyes, sinking further into the chair until her neck was practically resting on the other arm rest. If the babysitter needed a babysitter, Tala doubted there would be any hope for her mission.
And what mission? Could the High Conservator have been any more vague?
Tala was supposed to protect Face and Crop Top—but she had no idea from what.
Did they piss off a mercenary guild? Were they secretly members of the thieves guild, or were they targets like the other wealthy elite?
Whatever the reason, Tala just knew she was responsible for keeping the two blue guys alive.
“Oh,” the woman said with surprise. Her eyes flew toward her and Tala could already feel the judgment behind the heavy mascara.
“I assure you, though, Taldesa is very well trained,” Cercel explained, shifting on the ottoman. He grinned as the wood cracked, all sharp drakonis fangs on display.
Tala caught the woman’s eye. She lazily made a double horn gesture with her fingers before letting her hands flop back across the chair.
If Cercel had a problem with it—well, maybe the Valiant Circle should have invested in more comfortable chairs.
Wood was good and all, but whatever they had stuffed the chair she was melting into needed to be used at the temple.
Cercel sighed.
“She’s been with the Valiant Circle for years now,” her babysitter continued. “And prior to that she trained at the Sanctuary of the Moon Maidens overseas, so she’s very suited for the type of protection you requested.”
She had to give credit to Cercel. He had just completely breezed over the fact that she had gotten kicked out of the Moon Maidens. Not that Tala wanted to rehash the old wound to strangers. Honestly, she had Avie for that.
Avie. Tala frowned. Avie, where the fuck are you?
The gnawing feeling that something was wrong hadn’t left Tala’s gut.
In fact, she was damn sure the distraction was what kept her temperament in check.
Well, that and the unsaid meaning of what the mission was.
Aelidon hadn’t said it out right, but Tala had been through it before.
She knew what the High Conservator meant when she said this mission was important.
“Moon Maidens?” Face questioned.
“Oh, sorry boys, they don’t use the same names here for the gods,” Seira said.
“All cultures have their own names,” Cercel continued. “I’m sure the Dauntless Verity is called something else on the other side of the world.”
“The Moon Maidens are worshipers of the purple moon. Y’know, goes by Pernimas in familiar speech,” Tala explained, before gesturing to her whole outfit. “In case you couldn’t tell.”
Crop Top frowned, stealing a glance to Face. He looked like he had something on the tip of his tongue, but whatever it was stayed inside his mouth as Face caught his eye.
So, the blue boys know how to communicate without words, huh?
That spoke volumes about their relationship, which most likely meant they had a shit ton of secrets.
Moon Maiden knew, Tala was the same way with Avie.
Even with the opals, the pair had learned to speak without words.
Avie always knew when she needed to pull the ale away from Tala and in return, Tala knew when she needed to prevent her friend from knocking some no-name’s lights out.
Rare on both occasions, but necessary from time to time.
“Oh, forgive me, I forgot about introductions!” the woman sighed—as if she felt foolish for forgetting.
Tala could have told her not to bother. Eventually she’d come up with a nickname for her, too. Nails was becoming a big contender when Face suddenly stood. He had the kind of grace to his movement that surprised her.
“Well, why don’t we fix that? You said your name is Cercel, correct?” Face asked, raising a well manicured hand toward Cercel in greeting.
“Oh, yes,” Cercel fumbled, meeting Face’s hand with his much larger one.
Even seated, Cercel was nearly as tall as Face was and if Tala didn’t know better—
Wait, is this fucker blushing? Cercel?!
“A pleasure,” Face replied with a smile one could say was charming. When he directed that smile to Tala, she found it less charming and more unnerving. “Taldesa, correct?”
“Give the man a prize, Cercel, he can remember names,” Tala joked.
Cercel grimaced.
Okay, maybe not the best joke—
Face laughed, and Tala nearly fell out of the chair. His voice hadn’t matched his appearance, but his laugh sounded like—like something Tala couldn’t properly describe.
It’s like if moonbeams made a sound. Like fairies dancing on the wind—oh, my gods, why did I think that?!
“You’re funny, that’ll help you around here,” Face said, extending his hand toward her. “My name is Casimine.”
Casimine.
Tala didn’t know the origin of the name, but it suited him.
She awkwardly placed the hand nearest to him into his open palm.
Tala nearly jerked back as Casimine leaned down and placed a soft kiss to the back of her hand.
His lips were way too soft, too warm, and way too overly familiar for a first meeting.
When Casimine straightened, his eyes were mischievous.