10. Casimine
Casimine
Despite Ameriden’s groggy protests, Casimine had left the bed way before the sun had risen.
Ameriden had always been a sound sleeper—ever since college. The other students used to joke that Ameriden could sleep through an earthquake… a phrase that was innocent enough, but Casimine always flinched when someone said it. It was difficult not to.
Casimine had suffered from some kind of disordered sleeping patterns since he had been a child. Sometimes he was sensitive to noise—any small crack of a door or the sound of feet moving down hallways would startle him awake. Sometimes, he could sleep through it all without a single issue.
For whatever reason, Casimine had woken early that particular morning and found himself on the lounge in the seating area.
He hadn’t quite closed the door to the bedroom, allowing him to steal glances at Ameriden’s sleeping form.
His wide shoulders protruded from the bed where he had wrapped his large arms around Casimine’s pillow.
At least one of us is resting properly, Casimine thought as he skimmed over the novel in his lap.
Silken Swords was a novel Casimine had picked up from a book merchant on the Chroma Coast on a whim. The merchant had been kind—and overly excitable when she noticed Casimine’s interest in romance novels—and it had felt impossible to leave her establishment without the book.
Casimine enjoyed reading from time to time.
It kept his head from dwelling on his own problems, and it helped fuel his own creativity.
There was always inspiration to be found in another artists work, and books were no different.
Silken Swords was a little slow, but there was something about the way the author described the longing gazes between the two characters that kept Casimine’s attention.
The author wasn’t that bad at writing smut, either. Casimine had almost finished the first scene of the lovers joining in the middle of a forest clearing when he heard the short knock on the door.
Frowning, Casimine placed the ribbon between the pages and set it on the side table.
He was cautious as he approached the front door, pulling the silk robe tighter around himself.
The last thing he wanted was for a stranger to eye his half naked body.
Casimine lifted a hand in preparation to cast a glamour spell when a voice on the other side called out.
“It’s me, you dicks, open the door.”
Casimine chuckled as he unlocked the door and pulled it open.
Taldesa stood before him, a breakfast basket looped around one arm and a large bouquet of dark roses in the other.
Casimine wasn’t sure if it was the juxtaposition of her sour expression and the romantic gesture, but whatever the reason, he couldn’t help but let out another quiet laugh.
“Why, Taldesa, you shouldn’t have,” Casimine said with a pleased smile. “I had no idea you could be so romantic.”
If the silk robe managed to fall off his shoulder a little bit thanks to a subtle magical lift he added to the end of his sentence, well, Casimine considered it a token of his appreciation for Taldesa’s thoughtful gift.
“I—” The flustered expression that crossed her face was as telling as any blush would have been. She was awful at maintaining eye contact when she was embarrassed. “Shut the fuck up.”
Taldesa scowled, knocking an elbow into Casimine’s frame as she pushed into the room.
She was so easily flustered—something they had both discovered in the few short days she had been forced to be in their presence.
Casimine had long figured out that she wanted to be anywhere but in the same room as them.
But she’s so darling when she’s frazzled, he thought as he locked the door. As violent as a stray kitten.
“I’m here on serious business, okay?” Taldesa grumbled as she crossed to the dining table.
“Oh, believe me, I take the subject of courting incredibly seriously,” Casimine replied, catching up to her. “But thank you kindly for bringing us breakfast and flowers.”
“First off, it’s my breakfast,” she huffed. “Secondly, the flowers aren’t a gift from me, you asshole. I found them outside your door which means you’re not touching these flowers until me and your boss examine ‘em.”
The flirtatious mood Casimine had been in was suddenly gone. He eyed the bouquet with suspicion.
“Seira hasn’t told anyone we’ve arrived in the city, save for the king,” he said.
“Right, and neither of you have left the room since I’ve arrived,” Tala said, carefully placing the bouquet onto the table. “You said no one followed you to the Golden Manor, right?”
He shook his head.
Taldesa dropped the basket onto one of the chairs, “I dunno if this thing’s got poison on it, an enchantment, or if it’s purpose is to be utilized in some kind of tracking.
Honestly, could be any one of those fucking things, so this is gonna take me a bit.
Do me a favor and sit over there and whatever happens, don’t come over here, okay? ”
“Taldesa,” Casimine frowned. “You don’t have to—”
“I kinda do,” she replied, tossing one of her braids over her shoulder. “Seeing how it’s my job and everything. I’m responsible for your safety, so let me do my job and shut the fuck up.”
“It’s not a question about whether you’re capable,” Casimine explained. “It’s more about how much Seira told you. About how dangerous some of our fans can be.”
Casimine didn’t like talking about it—the fact that there were fans of theirs that had misplaced ideas on what their relationship was like.
It was one thing for a fan to ask for a signature, or a hand to brush their cheek.
But some of them had gotten it into their head that they knew everything about them—to the point of it being downright invasive.
What little privacy Casimine had, he had tried to cling to with every ounce of control, but even that hadn’t prevented the incident from happening.
“Dude, I’m a big girl. I think I can handle a bunch of flowers,” Taldesa snapped.
Her intensity would have made most people shrink away, but Casimine wasn’t one of them.
He knew what loneliness looked like, granted his was very different from hers.
Casimine wasn’t certain why he wasn’t put off by her demeanor—perhaps he enjoyed the novelty of meeting someone who not only had no idea who he was, but also didn’t appear to give a damn.
It was refreshing to be around someone who didn’t know all the lyrics to his music, who didn’t know which bardic college he went to. Someone who didn’t know his past.
Life was full of regrets, and the one Casimine regretted the most was how open he had been about his life when they had first started touring Ordia. He had foolishly answered every question without a thought and now…
Casimine had started to draw away when he was suddenly stopped by Taldesa grabbing the back of his robe.
He peered over his shoulder at her, curious.
Her expression spoke of frustration, though Casimine wasn’t sure what it was regarding.
Only that her fist had tightened in the fabric of his robe, most likely wrinkling the silk.
“I—” she cursed under her breath. “Thank you.”
Casimine lifted a brow at her.
Taldesa cursed again. “Thank you for being concerned about me. You don’t have to be so… thanks.”
“Of course,” he replied.
Before Casimine could even think about continuing the conversation, Taldesa tapped his back, sending him forward.
It was a clear dismissal, but one that Casimine didn’t take personally.
He only laughed under his breath. Progress was progress, or so he thought as he pretended to go back to his novel while eyeing Taldesa as she examined the roses.
Roses didn’t ring a bell for Casimine. The incident had been so sudden, that it had been impossible for him to recall anything unusual prior.
Gifts were part of the process—same as having overly excited fans who got too aggressive.
At least, that’s what Casimine had been told when Cashmere Fantasy first started as an opening act for Gildeon Almond—the bard who had recorded stories for over four hundred years.
Casimine could remember Gildeon’s perfect golden skin—made even more luxurious by his golden outfit—as the elf made eye contact through his vanity mirror.
‘The stage really is where we put our best selves forward. If you want to make it in this business, it’s best to remember that… but be warned, Casimine. Once they choose to adore you, they will try to possess you. Think clearly if that’s what you want, otherwise you’ll drown.’
The words had felt out of place at the time, but as Casimine watched Taldesa’s rough fingers slowly pull the bouquet apart, he suddenly felt weighed down by it.
It wasn’t enough that he couldn’t show his real affection for Ameriden in public.
Bard culture demanded that bards were married to their fans, and dating was seen as a career killer.
No, Casimine also had to worry about who they invited into their bed—because it was fine if bards indulged in orgies, but gods forbid if any of them fell in love.
Casimine’s eyes lingered on Taldesa’s fingers as she examined each rose.
She had strong fingers—steady hands, too.
Hands that Casimine had thought about way more than what was appropriate, but it wasn’t just Taldesa’s body that had captivated Casimine, it was her.
Something about the woman—a rough charisma—had so easily weaseled into Casimine’s mind.
It wasn’t love—that space was for Ameriden—but it felt a lot like a promise.
The promise of pleasure and company enjoyed if he and Ameriden could just convince her that it was a good idea.
He knew she thought about Ameriden’s body—though he wasn’t entirely certain in which way.
Her eyes tended to linger on Ameriden’s abdomen and arms, but one could argue she was simply admiring his form as a warrior.
Taldesa’s eyes fixating on Casimine’s face?
That was a lot more obvious to Casimine, for his face was something that had always guaranteed admirers.
His voice just solidified that attraction.
“Shit,” Taldesa cursed, pulling her finger back with a small hiss.
Before Casimine realized it, he had dropped his book and had moved to her side. A small well of blood pooled on Taldesa’s finger, the offending rose with the thorn had fallen onto the table.
“Are you all right?” Casimine asked.
“Yeah, I’m fine, it just hurt,” she grumbled. “Fuck.”
“I could help with that,” he offered, his hand hovering near her injured finger. “That is, if you’ll allow me?”
The familiar suspicious stare lingered, but Casimine revealed nothing. His patience was rewarded when she shifted her weight to the side, lifting her finger just an inch toward his outstretched hand. It was a silent consent, but one he wouldn’t argue with.
Delicately, Casimine cradled her finger between his own and bent low to examine the wound.
Without much thought, he began to hum the familiar lullaby of the Water Mother.
The magic in his throat built, pooling near the back of his mouth.
Once it reached his tongue, Casimine opened his mouth and took Taldesa’s finger inside.
The sound she made was a mix of utter shock and embarrassment. It only grew worse as Casimine dragged his tongue across the wound and felt the magic heat up her skin. Her blood was bitter, but it rapidly began to fade the longer Casimine sucked on the wound.
Taldesa’s mind must have caught up with his actions, because she suddenly flicked his forehead with enough force to smart. Casimine jolted back, releasing her finger, and reaching up to rub the tender spot on his forehead.
“You fucking weirdo!” she snapped, looking more flustered than ever. “What the fuck, man—”
“Oh, look,” Casimine pointed. “Your finger’s healed.”