13. Taldesa
Taldesa
The jeweler was swamped.
At least, that’s what Seira had conveyed. The results of the ring would take a week, but Tala wasn’t going to waste time. Over the course of a few days, she interviewed the two bards as often as their schedules would allow.
Face was apparently a bit of an insomniac, so catching him during the day could be challenging from time to time. Seira was helpful, but most of her energy was being siphoned by the castle—or whoever the fuck was responsible for organizing the event her boys would be headlining in a few months.
As a result, Tala found herself mostly interviewing Crop Top. That was how she found herself sitting on the floor in front of the coffee table with a bunch of scattered parchment and a half empty inkwell. Most of the ink was on her rough fingers from her messy writing.
“You’re lying,” she said.
There was no way Tala had heard him correctly. She could only stare in disbelief at Crop Top’s easygoing grin.
“Nope,” he said, dipping his fingers into the glass container that held the small stingray. It pushed against his fingers—most likely looking for food.
“There’s no way you performed in an active volcano.”
It sounded even more far fetched when Tala said it out loud. A long winded story that a drunk patron would feed whoever was willing to listen. Yet, Crop Top only chuckled, offering a small shrimp to the stingray.
“Swear to the Water Mother,” he said. “Granted, Casi and I didn’t know it was active when we agreed to do the show. Seira usually books our events a year in advance unless a ruler of a nation sends us an invitation.”
Right, less bullshit, more focus, Tala shook her head.
“And you were invited by King Oryin’vel?”
“Yup,” Crop Top pulled his hand free of the enclosure, “Seira knows more about the details, but he requested we perform in a few months. Casi and I were supposed to be out on sea during that time but…”
His gaze went toward the bedroom, the door open a small crack.
Face had excused himself after the pair had given Tala some details on their daydreamers.
There was no way to count how many there were, only that they were very vocal and a core set of them followed Cashmere Fantasy no matter where they went.
Honestly, they sounded pretty hardcore to Tala.
Or codependent, Tala thought. Kind of like them.
Crop Top had been the first to suggest Face should rest. Even Tala had noticed the darker circles under his near perfect face. It did bring up a few questions, but Tala shelved them. They weren’t as important as narrowing her list of fans to keep an eye out for.
Based on the amount of names—which weren’t really names, so much as physical descriptions of various denizens from all ages, ancestry, and backgrounds—their admirer could have been anyone.
The only thread Tala had to follow was they were all obsessed with the two bards, and they had access to money—or magic.
Gold would explain how a certain amount of their fans were able to follow them from one continent to the next. Magic would explain how they were able to follow so closely without notice. Which lead Tala to another question…
“So…” Tala stared at the door, “what’s the deal?”
Crop Top was in the process of evaporating the water from his arm, but his gaze was still heavily set on the door.
“What’s what deal?”
“With Fa—ugh,” Tala shook her head. “With him. Why’d he clam up when I started asking questions about your avid fans?”
For once, Crop Top was quiet. The silence would have shocked Tala if she hadn’t been concentrating on his facial expressions.
Tala hadn’t been lying when she said she remembered faces more than names.
The more she saw a face, the easier it was to read with time.
Where that particular skill set had come from, she couldn’t say. Or maybe she just didn’t want to.
“It’s…complicated.”
The word was loaded, that much Tala knew for certain.
For the short time she had been on assignment, the two were rarely quiet.
If they weren’t chatting insistently in her ear, they were singing.
When they weren’t doing that, they were usually whispering while stealing conspiratorial glances at her that she usually met with a middle finger.
Quiet wasn’t a word she would ever associate with either of them.
“Complicated in the sense of something I gotta keep an eye out for?” When he stayed quiet, Tala tutted. “C’mon. No secret bullshit, especially if it’s dangerous stuff.”
Not her most persuasive argument, but the point was still there. If something was going on behind the scenes, Tala needed to know what. Especially if whatever it was directly endangered them and, in turn, endangered her position with the Valiant Circle.
“Before we were summoned, we were wrapping up a tour in Bezlaun,” Crop Top said, softly.
Tala knew of Bezlaun from her studies, but she had never visited. It was a country on the continent of Kerth, somewhere in the north. Snow was all Tala could honestly remember about it outside of where it was.
“We were stopping at some inn for the night between shows. I can’t remember the name, some small place on the edge of town,” Crop Top scratched the back of his head. “But it was late when we got in—late enough that Seira couldn’t book our usual rooms. We were on a lower floor and…”
The asshole in Tala wanted to push and bully her way to the answer, but there was something about his face that made her pause. Something Tala was familiar with, that was always one breath away.
Pain and anger.
It had only been a flash, but Tala knew what that looked like. Anger had been her nearest companion for as long as she could remember.
“We were sharing a room and I wanted a drink. It was cold as an ice giant and I wanted something warm. I asked Casi to go with me, but he was already settled in bed, working on some lyrics. I left, made it down two flights of stairs, and then I heard this sound. Like something hitting hard against a wall,” the bard exhaled, his eyes shutting briefly with memory.
“I thought maybe he had fallen, so I ran back to the room. I got there, the door was open and when I stepped inside—”
He paused, biting his lip. The possibilities of what had happened inside that room filtered through Tala’s mind and the moment the worst one came through, she felt rage stiffen her body. Her jaw tightened as Ameriden ran a hand through his short hair.
“Fans had rushed the room. And not one or two—I mean a crowd. I can’t even tell you how many people were in there or how they found us.
They were all screaming and I couldn’t even push past them.
All I remember was seeing Casi pressed against the wall and the bed and the look on his face—” he cleared his throat.
“After that, I blacked out. Next thing I know, Seira’s got a wagon outside the window and I’m jumping with Casi in my arms. We got out of there quick.
Physically, he was fine but… he hasn’t been the same since. ”
Fuck.
There were so many things wrong with what Ameriden had said and all of it caused Tala’s fist to tighten on her thigh. Casimine’s privacy had been violated, and if there was one thing Tala loathed more than anything, it was people who made choices for you.
Tala wasn’t certain how long she sat in the silence, only that she was doing everything in her power not to get up and punch a wall.
The sound of Ameriden sniffing was what made her realize the bard was crying.
Though he was doing his best to hide it.
His hand was stretched across his eyes with his fingers brushing aside the tears.
Shit.
The Valiant Circle had pretty much given up on teaching Tala any sort of social skills. Her mind scrambled, trying to reach for anything to say that might offer—something? Comfort?
What the fuck am I supposed to even say here? Sorry your buddy’s privacy got violated while he was minding his business in his room and you couldn’t stop it, here’s a sympathy pat on the back? Fuck.
The Moon Maidens were more equipped to handle emotions—it was why Tala had fought so much with them. No amount of hugging or crying would ever calm the anger that was always simmering beneath her knuckles. It wouldn’t keep Tala from lashing out at anyone who got in her face—intentional or not.
Everyone except Avie.
They shouldn’t have been friends, but somehow Avie had pushed through all of the bullshit and found her underneath. All it took was Tala being more pissed off at the guy harassing Avie, one good right hook, and bam! Best friends for life… and fuck, did Tala miss her best friend.
Maybe that’s why whatever made Tala hard, lost some of its rigidity in that moment.
Before she knew it, Tala had gotten up from the floor and wrapped her arms around Ameriden.
She flushed immediately, face pressing against the same chest she had been enviously admiring for a week.
The guy was as solid as he looked, but warm.
Even with his arms hanging at his side like limp noodles.
If anyone were to ask, Tala would deny ever touching him until the day she died.
“Sorry people suck,” she murmured into his pectoral.
Was this working? This was comforting, right? Fuck, she wished Avie was there so she could get some kind of confirmation. That she wasn’t just making a bad situation worse. That everything she touched didn’t turn into bruises and bloody noses—
Tala swallowed her tongue when Ameriden’s large arms encircled her. He felt so much bigger then, arms heavy against her back and his head pressing against the side of hers.
“I shouldn’t have said anything. It wasn’t my story to tell,” he murmured against her temple.
“Probably. But it’s something I needed to know so I can keep him safe. And if it makes you feel better, I’m really good at punching.”
Ameriden laughed, a rumble that she could feel against her.
His warm breath tickling Tala’s neck sent shivers down her spine.
She was too fixated on how massive he was—which she understood— but it was so different to be pressed against him versus just looking.
It made no sense to be stuck on it given Cercel existed.
“Well, if one of our fans crosses the line, I give you full permission to punch,” he murmured, voice low with promise. “Repeatedly.”
Tala didn’t need his permission, as she fully intended to beat the absolute shit out of anyone who even looked at Casimine the wrong way. She didn’t question where the sudden protective instinct came from.
“That’s what I’m good at,” she said instead.
“I’d love to see what else you’re good at.”
Her face grew warmer. That… that couldn’t mean what she thought it did, right? He was a flirt—both of them were, especially with each other. This was all part of their bard act…wasn’t it?
Doubt was ringing in her ears as Ameriden’s fingers tipped her chin up to look at him.
Instead of fighting it, Tala met his gaze without her signature glare.
His eyes were heavy with something Tala was having trouble deciphering.
If she didn’t know better she could have sworn he was staring at her lips. Almost as if—
‘Tala. Please don’t freak out. I’m okay. There was an incident at the stronghold. Do! Not! Go to the stronghold! I’m…I’m in GloomsDale.’
Tala froze and Ameriden did the same.
“Um…did your…weapons just speak?”
Asinine question aside, Tala broke the hold Ameriden had on her. She snatched the opal from her sash, pulling it free from its fastening and bringing it to her mouth.
Her thumb barely brushed the glyph before she exclaimed, “Avie?! Avie, what’s going on?! What the fuck do you mean you’re in GloomsDale?! What do you mean there was an ‘incident’ at the stronghold?! Avi—”
A flash of light and the spell was over too soon.
“Fuck.” Tala swore. “Fuck.”