29. Taldesa
Taldesa
The only problem with being part of an order like the Valiant Circle, was the members who were trained for intelligence work.
From sleuths to spymasters, Tala could think of a dozen of trained monks above Cercel’s station that could infiltrate a gala hosted by the king of Eshorion.
But a name was not the same thing as a face, and given Tala had never been motivated to learn the names of the faces she met at the archive…
Like finding a unicorn in the middle of a damn ocean.
Tala did her best to stay on high alert as the evening pressed on.
Any opportunity to opt out of conversation was better served with keeping her eyes on the immediate area.
It wasn’t just about finding her contact, but growing familiar with the faces in the crowd.
She discredited half the guests already—based entirely on how memorable they were.
An assassin would utilize the only woman dressed in orange dyed peacock feathers as a distraction.
But that still presents a problem…how do I tell the difference between a member of the Valiant Circle and the guys in league with that dead poison guy?
The question weighed on her mind as she counted exits.
The main entrance where they had entered.
The two at the base at of the stairs that most likely led toward the servants quarters and the kitchens.
Three on Seira’s left that led to private verandas overseeing the garden, and three on the right containing a hall that would take guests to a dining hall.
When Seira had first mentioned the impromptu dinner, Tala hadn’t thought much of it.
Outside of the guards, staff, and the heads of the monarchy themselves, it was a guest list Tala could have easily managed.
Now? Tala was certain that there had to be several hundred people in attendance, many of which were both of great importance and had traveled from long distances.
What surprised Tala the most was that she even recognized some of the nobles, thanks to the Valiant Circle.
The Tel’vera family was the first that caught Tala’s eye.
Lady Tel’vera was a descendant of one of the founding members of the Valiant Circle while her husband, Balthazar, was an esteemed lawyer.
Tala had studied a few of his cases whenever she grew bored in the archives, noting that Balthazar Eaves had a pattern of representing the underdog.
It was rumored that his choices were driven by his only daughter’s unexpected lineage.
Daemon children were heavily stigmatized by elites, but Balthazar was never caught on record talking poorly about his daughter’s traits.
In fact, he only appeared to speak highly of her, which in Tala’s books meant he wasn’t a complete asshole.
Just mostly, Tala thought as she eyed the older human man and his half-elven wife.
A few familiar merchants waltzed by to the tune of the small ensemble and their instruments.
Laughter broke through the noise of loud conversation, glasses clinked as connections were made and deals were set.
All of it was familiar and off-putting at the same time, but Tala’s disdain for the entire evening didn’t deter her from either of her tasks.
Ameriden had been swept up in a dance with a blonde, human woman.
While many people wore shades of white as a symbol of reverence for King Oryin’vel monarchy, Ameriden and Casimine were the only ones who really shined in ivory.
That wasn’t to say that their outfits were more expensive or even more lavish than some of the guests.
There’s that woman in the fucking orange peacock feathers…
No, it was something in how the two bards carried themselves.
They commanded the room, whether they were aware of it or not.
Their charisma—the same that had brought Tala to the point of wanting to knock their skulls together—was fully on display.
Casimine’s smile—the same one that made Tala embarrassingly weak at the knees, was making even the most stuffiest of old elves blush.
His beauty was effortless, his mannerisms languid as he was offered wine and appetizers.
Ameriden was no better. Instead of regaling a crowd, his dance card was being filled faster than Tala could keep track.
One moment he had been with a blonde, and now he was dancing with a dwarven man.
He moved in a way that would have made Tala’s dance teacher sob.
Ameriden was assured, confident, and without a single misstep in sight as he spun with his dance partner.
Fuck, even Seira was gathering a small crowd of admirers.
Tala could practically see the smitten expressions on their faces as Seira waved her polished fingers around, breaking into a boisterous laugh.
Socializing was definitely in the trios wheelhouse, and here Tala was just trying to go about unnoticed.
Assassins, the Valiant Circle, my charges. Assassins, the Valiant Circle, and my charges—
Wait.
Tala froze as she registered a sound. She strained to hear, doing her best to drown out the noise as she lowered her gaze to the marbled floor.
No, that’s definitely a sound… like…
Eyeing her surroundings, Tala ducked behind the column she had pressed her back to.
Whatever had been making that odd sound had definitely come from one of the verandas.
The boots that Seira had saddled her with weren’t as quiet as her normal shoes, but Tala moved as silently as she could in them.
As she neared the swaying curtain of one of the veranda’s, the sound that had caught her ear finally made itself known.
Crying.
Someone was crying and there was no way to tell if it was cries of distress or something else entirely.
There were no warning bells in Tala’s head, but she readied herself for whatever she would find.
Tala grasped the edge of the curtain, and pulled it aside, only to reveal a woman flung across a marble slab.
The woman gasped, hurriedly wiping her tears away from her face at being discovered.
She was young, half-elven by the look of her shortened ears, and dressed in a glittering white gown that reminded Tala way too much of a cupcake.
Beneath the dim lantern lights of the veranda, her dark brown skin glowed.
Strawberry blonde hair fell in waves down her shoulders, catching on the more ornate details of her dress.
Stunned, Tala gurgled an apology and keyed to leave just as gracefully.
“Oh, no, no!” the woman protested, dabbing at her watery brown eyes with a delicate handkerchief. “Please, don’t apologize. I am the one in such an embarrassing state.”
Her voice was soft—almost like she didn’t talk very often. If Tala hadn’t already been focusing on listening for danger, she’d likely not even have heard her.
“No, no,” Tala waved an arm. “You’re not embarrassing—totally not.”
Fuck, she really had zero social skills, huh?
A woman was crying and here Tala was, fumbling as if someone had handed her a newborn fire salamander.
She had to temper the urge to pull at her hair—mostly because the familiar braids weren’t available for her to do so and Seira would throw a fit if she touched her work.
“I’m pathetic looking, you can say it,” the woman assured with depressing ease. “Look at me.”
Truthfully, there wasn’t anything that Tala couldn’t fix with the woman’s handkerchief and some charcoal. She’d worked with less when she would sneak out of the Moon Maidens, but something told her this woman didn’t need that right now.
“Even if I gave a shit about looking proper, I still wouldn’t think that,” Tala said as she dropped the curtain behind her.
“Really?”
“Really.”
The woman pushed off the marbled stone—which appeared to be some sort of lounge that Tala would bet money on was uncomfortable as fuck to sit on. Yet, when the woman motioned for Tala to sit beside her, she did it anyway.
Yup, just like sitting on a rock, except this one probably cost more gold than I’ll ever see in my life.
“I hadn’t planned on making a spectacle of myself,” the woman confessed. “At least, not this early in the evening.”
“Why were you crying?” Tala asked, gaze flicking over the railing of the veranda.
The garden was dark, but Tala could hear the soft clink of armor as guards walked along the carved paths. Tala wasn’t sure how big the garden was, but it was apparently large enough to warrant guards walking through it as opposed to remaining stationary against the stone wall.
“I—” the woman frowned down at her hands. “No, that’s not—I just… well, let’s just say the night didn’t go how I thought it would.”
“Yeah?” Tala dropped her elbows to her knees, slouching in her seat as she turned her gaze toward the woman. “Someone piss you off?”
It was appropriate language for the space they were in, but the woman only blinked owlishly at the question. No snide comments about language, no judgmental looks, only genuine surprise.
“More like… well, more like I… um… pissed myself off,” she replied.
Definitely not a person who hangs out with sailors.
“What’d you do?” Tala asked.
The woman bit her lip, eyes darting around. Maybe her experience had been embarrassing, not necessarily how she appeared just now.
“Tonight’s a big deal,” the woman began softly. “It’s a huge event for Eshorion. A lot of nobles and merchants and esteemed guests are in there and…”
Tala waited, the hum of conversations just beyond the fluttering curtain at their back.
Not a single one alerted her to any danger and for the moment, Tala hoped it would hold long enough for this stranger to share her story.
Why she wanted that, Tala wasn’t sure. Perhaps it was just nice to talk to someone who wasn’t at the forefront of her mind.
Or, maybe, it was a good excuse to distract her from her own shame.
It was kind of embarrassing to have a civilian catch Tala in the biggest secret of her life given how much the Valiant Circle relied on stealth and discretion.
“Did you know this wasn’t supposed to be a gala? Originally, it was supposed to be a dinner,” the woman sighed. “A nice, quiet, intimate dinner. Just a few guests around a long table. Simple dinner conversation, breaking bread with honored guests…but now? All of this? It’s so much.”
Tala did know that but now she questioned how the stranger beside her did.
Other than Casimine, Ameriden, and their manager, the original dinner invitation hadn’t included merchants or nobility outside of the court.
That would mean the young woman at her side had prior knowledge of that initial dinner, but—
“Fuck me, I’m dense,” Tala chuckled under her breath. “You’re Princess Osonia.”
The princess in question shrank, shoulders falling at Tala’s recognition. Why, she wasn’t sure, given a princess shouldn’t give a damn what someone like Tala thought of them.
“Please don’t tell my father I’ve ran away from my lady-in-waiting. He’ll likely punish her, and Abigail has only ever done what I ask of her,” Princess Osonia begged.
“I promise I won’t tell your father if you tell me why you’re out here crying.”
“I—” Princess Osonia swallowed hard, then pushed back her shoulders.
“I’m crying because I wanted to meet Cashmere Fantasy in our family’s dining hall.
Not in the grand dining hall, not as a spectacle for the other nobles to turn into some joke.
Everyone knows the reason why they’re here, even though I specifically asked my father to wait.
And because everyone knows the princess of Eshorion wanted two of the most famous bards to come to her birthday party, I’m even more childish than I was before. ”
“Wait, who said you were childish?”
“The people out there!” Princess Osonia exclaimed.
“In the eyes of the elven people, I am a child because of my age, but to the denizens of Eshorion? I’m a hundred and nineteen!
That’s an adult in human years! Which means half of the people at this gala think me a child because to them I am while the other half think I’m childish because my father invited a pair of bards to play at his daughter’s birthday party.
No matter what I do, they’ve already decided who I am and it’s awful! ”
While Tala couldn’t relate to being a princess, she could at least understand the struggle of having parents that refused to respect her autonomy.
It was bad enough having to hear the other monks whisper about Tala’s background—especially when she first arrived—but the idea of doing it front of the elite masses was way worse.
“You’re right, that does suck,” Tala straightened from her slouched position. “But you kind of already said it.”
Princess Osonia paused, handkerchief inches from her tear stained cheek.
“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.