#also balam has a celebrity crush on kendra trevelyan this is Just How It Is

[atypicalacademic]

Starfire 🍋

Starfire is a reworking of Portia’s route. Kodori Yazakh belongs to @greyvvardenfell and Skylar Trevelyan belongs to @ollifree​

Previous Chapter

Chapter 6: Thedal [NSFW]

Words: 3.8k

Warnings: manual stimulation, oral sex, brief alcohol and recreational drug use

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search; a search

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“They what.” Zurkhi’s palms curled to fists on the table. “You say they destroyed-“

Fidgeting in his chair, Mohsin hesitated. Nadia had summoned the Palace’s archivist the moment Balam had told her about the missing records.

“Zurkhi-“

“No, no, what else could it be, Nadia?” His bright turquoise eyes shot back at the archivist. “Valdemar asked you to relinquish all of it?” He paused, seemingly to school his voice into something calmer. “It is not your fault, Mohsin. You could not have known.”

Mohsin watched the room anxiously, his gaze drifting from Nadia, to Zurkhi, to Yazakh standing beside them, before slowly, he nodded.

Nadia exchanged a glance with Zurkhi, before nodding at the archivist. “Thank you, Mohsin. That will be all.”

Rising from the table, Mohsin bowed his head. “Your Excellency. Suasor.”

“Zurkhi.” He corrected, with a small smile. “You have been of great help.”

Nadia waited for the door to quietly fall shut behind the archivist, before she leaned back in her chair, steepling her fingers over the table as she set down her empty teacup. There was a short silence, as Balam tried to wrangle her hammering heart back into focus.

Work. Work.

She was far too aware of Portia’s touch against her back, of lingering heat of her body, of her lips. Yazakh’s gaze, drifting down to Balam just in time to catch her rising blush, did absolutely nothing to help.

Work.

Predictably, it was Zurkhi who broke the silence. “I will find the records.” He said. “There has to be a place where I could look for them. It is- it is violence to erase history.”

That was true.

Nadia made a motion, as though she was about to reach for him, but let her hand fall beside his upon the table instead. “In the meantime,” She made a face. “There’s the matter of the ghost.”

Balam cleared her throat, pushing past the flour and sweet pea and fiery amber eyes to find her words and her reason. “A ghost is- a broad term at this stage, my lady.” She said. “I know for a fact that there was- a lot- in that room, but, the Count’s presence was both more than a ghost, and a lot less. I’ll have to find a stronger tether to ground him- something- someone he has a better connection with-“ Suddenly, she frowned. “Who’s Skylar?”

Nadia tilted her head, about to respond, when Zurkhi spoke up. “Not Skylar Trevelyan?  He is a magician. Had he been here over the plague, perhaps?”

Balam jumped in her seat. “Trevelyan?” She’d heard the stories, seen the bard-songs and the records from the far East that spoke of the near-legendary strength of another magician who carried that name. “As in Kendra Trevelyan? The Kendra Trevelyan? ” Her voice shot up another octave before she registered the puzzled pairs of eyes on her. Balam wilted. What was wrong with her?

“Uh. Sorry. Go on.”

“Quite possible, I’m certain.” Nadia sighed, a tinge of something like fondness in her dark eyes as she regarded Balam. “I could hardly keep track of those who came and left over those years.”

Shifting minutely behind Nadia to catch her eye, Yazakh nodded. “He often tended to the Count himself.” Their voice washed over Balam, smooth and deep.

You do not know me.

Fucking focus.

Nadia straightened. “In any case, “Lillie,” she went on. “Is Sybilla Livsdottir. The abjurer, an old friend of Lucio’s. If need be, I could send for her.”

“I guess...” Balam trailed away, wondering how much she had to defer to a plausibly dead man’s privacy. “He must trust them a lot.  He sounds like he’s in a lot of distress- and, that’s who he- that’s who his spirit called for. And since they’re both magicians with-um-“ Sweetheart. “A connection to him…I’m not saying I can’t make a stronger tether, but-“

“I know, Balei.” Nadia smiled. “We will try to locate this Skylar Trevelyan, and Sybilla’s services are required for the masquerade, after all. Magical tethers or apparitions, or not, I’m sure you could use the help.“ She rolled her eyes. “My late husband can be exceedingly difficult at the best of times.”

“He also-“ Portia added hastily, darting a cursory glance at Balam. Her cheeks flushed as their eyes met. “Um. He also mentioned um. Courtiers. Plural. He…seemed pretty mad at them, my lady.”

“For once,” Zurkhi declared, folding his arms. “He and I are in agreement.”

“Praetor Vlastomil, Procurator Volta, Pontifex Vulgora, and Quaestor Valdemar. Well, and Consul Valerius, if the need arises.” Nadia tapped along lavender painted nail against the table, punctuating the names. “If my memory is to be trusted, these were the four Courtiers who had wielded the most influence over Lucio. Though he showed little for them by way of genuine fondness, after all-” She winced. “However. I suppose the four would be a reasonable place to start. Valdemar will be brought in for questioning, and-“

“My lady?” Portia fidgeted, playing with the ends of her sash.  “If I may say something. Plainly.”

“By all means.”

“I mean no disrespect, but.” She bit her lip, touched her cheek. By gods, everything she did was beautiful. “The Count mentioned them all, so wouldn’t it be better to um. Not have them on their guard- yet? If there’s something your Courtiers are - hiding-“ she hesitated, looking from Zurkhi, who nodded encouragingly, and to Balam, who felt her stomach swoop unreasonably. “The Quaestor’s not the likeliest to talk, my lady. Far as I’ve heard.” She added quickly. “Isn’t it better to start with um- someone who’s more prone to?”

“The weakest link.” Zurkhi leaned forward, thoughtfully twirling the ends of his ponytail around his scarred fingers. “I would say so, yes. Perhaps you could speak to Vlastomil, Nadia. The man defers to the bowing and scraping, though we could not say for certain what he might let escape his mouth, that insufferable, sleazy-“

“Zurkhi.”

He threw his hands up. “Am I wrong?”

Nadia stifled a laugh with the back of her hand. “Circumstances-“ She said delicately, her lips twitching. “Being what they are, Portia, would you like to be relieved from your Palace duties so that you may assist Balam in her investigation? It seems as though-“ her eyes shifted meaningfully between Balam and Portia. “You work well together.”

Portia’s eyes widened, like a deer’s caught in a flame.

“I’d love that.” Balam said, tearing her eyes away from Portia to look at the Countess. “Portia’s incredible. She knows her way around the Palace and everyone in it better than anybody else.”

Portia brushed her leg against Balam’s, tucking a strand of her red hair behind her ear. “Me too.”

“It is settled then. If you have any ideas on where to start-“

“Well I don’t, Your Excellency.” Portia laughed. “But I know where to find ‘em.”

*

Balam had kissed people before. Near-strangers at taverns, mostly, or a face in the market that fell easy on her eyes, freshly disembarked sailors or late customers at the shop with accents and aliases and a promise that they’d never meet again. It wasn’t very difficult to do so- there were enough people, as Asra so often teased, taken by the magician’s pretty black eyes and saccharine tongue as they were by her abilities.

She liked to let them go with a certain indulgent fondness, partly stemming from the relief that this was enough, really. Or all that could be. When all is said and done and the bedside lamps fell to the dark- most of them were suited to what was fleeting. She, too, she decided, was suited to the fleeting.

This, however, was new.

Portia kissed her the moment that they were away from prying eyes, pressing her against the cool stones of the low garden wall. It was a different kiss from the one they’d shared before- sweet, and gentle, the curve of her smile against Balam’s lips, a happy sigh lifting her shoulders when Balam drew her closer by the waist.

Balam was used to the chase, the urgency, the pinning up against walls and fences and tabletops- but this was a new kind of disarming, the kind of kiss that felt as though it was meant to cherish.

She was not used to being cherished. Not like this.

Portia was still smiling when she pulled away. Her hand cupped Balam’s cheek.

Don’t be so careful. Balam wanted to say. I’m nothing that breaks. Nothing that shouldn’t.

“You don’t- mind, do you?” Portia murmured.

Balam couldn’t help but laugh. “Did I kiss you like I minded? Because if that’s the case-“ She smirked. “I’ll just have to convince you otherwise.”

Portia rolled her eyes. “Convince away. But-.” She kissed her again, her fingers carding gently through Balam’s hair. “Mm, no. I don’t think you mind.”

“Understatement. I’ll have to try again.”

She kissed Portia’s cheek, her forehead, the tip of her nose, until she was bright red and giggling, swatting at Balam’s chest half-heartedly.

“I hope you don’t mind.” Balam said softly, catching one of Portia’s hands and bringing it to her lips. “I’m told I’m a lot. If you ever want me to step back, and-”

Portia cut her off with another sweet, careful kiss. “I want a lot, though, honey. If this is what a lot feels like- I want it.”

“Oh.”

That too, was new.

There were people, casual acquaintances, friends and lovers that told her the obverse- that there were times she could be handled, if she tried. It made her skin crawl, their insistence that she could somehow be fixed by well-meaning people, as if it hadn’t been her own strength that built her up from nothing.

Handled was one thing. Wanted was quite another.

She swallowed hard. “You can have anything you want. You should.”

Portia traced the shape of Balam’s thick, dark brows Tangling her hands in Balam’s many dupattas, she pulled her down, so they were face to face.  “Uh-huh? Then so should you. Speaking of which.” Slyly, she gestured with her head to the side, where Balam spotted, with a jolt, a familiar tall form stepping out from beneath the garden arches towards the fountain ahead.

“Yazakh, huh?”

Balam nearly choked. “No! I mean. Um.”

Giggling, Portia leaned against her. “You’re not subtle about it, you know? I noticed.”

Helplessly, Balam grimaced. She knew that. Especially when she had no intention of hiding it to begin with.

“Ooh, I think you should go for it.” Portia nudged her urgently. “Go on. I saw them looking at you back there. I bet they think you’re really cute.”

“What do you mean go for it?”

“Come on.” She pulled at Balam’s sleeve. “You weren’t so shy when you pulled me into that closet, were you, honey?”

“I can’t pull them into a closet!”

“Like you can’t get creative?” She teased, relentlessly. “Surprise them. Climb ‘em like a tree.”

“Portia!”

“Haven’t you tried your-“ Portia widened her eyes, and batted her lashes theatrically. “On them yet?”

Blushing furiously, Balam pouted. “I might have.”

She laughed. “Of course you did. Did it work?”

“I don’t know?” Balam confessed. “Did it work on you?”

“Well I’m here, aren’t I? But- hm. They are a little reserved.” She cocked her head thoughtfully for a moment, and perked up. “Guess we’ll see.”

“Yeah, we’ll- what?”

Taking a step forward, Portia poked her head over the bushes, waving her arm wildly in the air. “Hey, Captain! Yazakh! Over here!”

Hissing, Balam clapped a hand over Portia’s mouth.

Too late.

Yazakh halted beside the fountain, and turned around. Why did the look in their eyes always feel like waves of the sea crashing against her ribs? What meaning did it hold that she did not know to decipher?

Nevertheless, she flashed a smile, shaking her black hair away from her face, her eyes catching the moonlight. Her hand fell away from Portia, for only an instant, and that was enough.

“Don’t you think Balam’s really cute?”

Before Balam could think to open her mouth or backtrack or hold back her own laughter, before she could call it a joke or stay back in her place, to her utter, utter astonishment, Yazakh, holding both of their gazes for a long moment, nodded.

Balam’s mouth hung open, but she recovered just in time to blow them a kiss, collapsing against the wall with Portia in a fit of giddy laughter.

“What’d I say?” Portia teased. Grinning, she took Balam’s hand, leading her away from the vine-covered garden wall. “Okay, but we should run. Hestion’s gonna be in way too much of a hurry in the morning.”

*

Predictably, the kitchens were emptying out when they arrived. The staff were putting out the lamps one by one, folding up their uniforms and packing up the leftovers to take home for themselves. They were evidently exhausted at the end of the day, though they smiled brightly and broke into chatter at the sight of Portia.

It simply seemed to be what she did- brighten and enliven everything, everyone around her.

“D’you really think I can do it, Porsh?” Babouche, a disconcertingly handsome young servant gaped at her, as she handed over the head servant’s master set of keys to him.

“Sweetie, I think you can do anything.” Portia assured him, closing his palm over the keys. “Remember when you organized that flower show? From scratch? And it went so well milady had to give you that raise? This job is just the same thing- different scale, yeah?”

When he still looked uncertain, she clicked her tongue. “C’mon, give me some spirit here. D’you think I’d have given you these keys if I didn’t think you could handle the job?”

“No.” He perked up instantly. “I won’t let you down. Besides-“ he winked. “I wouldn’t want to keep you from your-“ His bright golden eyes darted meaningfully towards Balam. “Your engagements.”

Huffing, Portia stuck her tongue out at him.

“Liking the food so far, Mx.Maitreya?” Hestion, the head cook, offered Balam a plate of anchovy chips from dinner. She nodded eagerly. “Balam. And yeah, you spoil me.”

He laughed. “You’ve got Haider Wazim to thank for it. He taught me all about Prakran cuisine when I was working over at Zainaba’s. He put in a few good words for me when they were hiring for the Palace, and look, here I am.”

She wasn’t surprised. That sounded just like something Haider would do.

“Have you been working here for long?”

“Came here right after the plague, like most of us. Plenty of vacancies, you understand.” He shook his head. “For the people who left- or worse.”

Of course. So many of the Palace staff must have fallen prey to the plague, one way or the other.

“As for what you asked, Portia” He dropped his voice to a whisper, gesturing to Babouche to shut the door. “I’ve been meaning to tell you this, but they’ve all been putting their heads together for a while now. All four of ‘em, and even the Consul. If Her Ladyship’s been casting doubts on them, I’ve got to say-“ He said darkly. “They’re well placed.”

“I knew it!” Portia clasped her palms together. “D’you know what they’ve been-“

He shrugged. “No, I don’t like going near them. But- hey, Babouche, tell her what you heard.”

Babouche straightened, crossing his long legs on the kitchen counter. “Well I was out there, bringing the Consul his wine,” he rolled his eyes. “As usual. He dismissed me before I could really see anything, but. There was something about the air in that room. So. I- just waited. For a bit. Outside. You get it.”

Balam nodded. “Yeah.”

“They were arguing. I couldn’t make out what they were on about, and for a minute I thought it was just the Pontifex screaming as they always do, but. But then I heard her, the Procurator, you know how high her little voice gets, like-“ Bringing his palms to his chest, Babouche affected the tragic mimic of a mournful wail. “No, no, must Volta really? Must Volta really go through with it? Oh, but Valdemar-” and they hissed something in return. The moment I heard their voice-“ He shuddered. “I got the fuck out of there.”

“Go through with it?” Portia frowned.

Babouche held his hands up, hastily. “Now it could just be nothing, of course.”

“Of course.” Portia smiled reassuringly. “We won’t bring any of you into anything. But- whew.” She let out a breath. “We’ve got our weakest link, haven’t we?”

Hestion snorted. “Always has been.  Just hand her the right kind of food and she’ll sing like a canary.”

“Thanks, boys.” Portia winked. “We owe you one.”

“No problem. Now I’ve really got to close up. Want anything before?”

“Hm. I’ve got an idea. What d’you like to drink, Balam?”

Before Balam could respond, Hestion, incredibly, beat her to it. “Black rum.” He said. “Fetch it, why don’t you, Babouche?.”

She stared at him. “How do you know-“

“Sorry, Balam.” He waved a hand. “Trade secrets. My lips are sealed.”

*

“What is this place?” Hidden behind the bookshelf at the furthermost end of the library, was the engraving of a snake. Once traced with a careful hand, the walls gave way into a misty shimmer, opening into a small terrace, a hand-crafted rug laid out with a few pillows, closed off from all sides save for the large window overlooking the Palace gardens. This too, was Asra’s magic. Why did he need so many hideaways at the Palace?

Or was it just his usual showmanship, this constant need that he had to prove his own power to himself over and over and over again?

Portia sat down beside her, topping up the glasses of black rum with a smug smile. Her sash was undone, her hair falling freely in brilliant red curls. “I don’t know. But cozy, isn’t it?”

It was. Balam drank to it, clinking her glass against Portia’s and downing the burning dark liquor in one go. Lighting up her chillum, she brought it to her lips, taking a long, deep drag.

“Do that often?” Portia asked, curiously.

“What, this?” Balam gestured at the smoke. “Not very often. Does it bother you?”

Portia snorted. “Honey, I was born on a ship. Grew up in a port town. With sailors. But I’ve always been curious about-“ She reached over to kiss Balam, taking the smoke from her lips. “About that.”

“Asra says that’s a Milovan-“

“Wedding custom.” Portia took an enormous gulp of the rum, and lay back down against the rug. “I know.” Her tone was light, but the look in her eyes was all invitation. She’d be a fool not to take it.

Balam laid her chillum down, pushing the bottle of rum out of the way. She shivered as Balam’s hand skated beneath the hem of her tunic, ghosting over her soft stomach, pausing at her ribs. “Travelled a lot?”

Propping herself up on her elbow, Balam kissed her, tasting rum and smoke and the soft noise she made when Balam bit down on her bottom lip for a moment before she let go. “Not really. I’ve been to Nopal a couple times with Asra, but other than that…memory loss, and all.” She chuckled. “I’ve been meaning to for a while now.”

Catching Portia’s lips in another languid kiss, she trailed her hand down the waistband of her uniform, brushing past the trail of hair between her thighs. Tangling her hand in Balam’s hair, Portia deepened the kiss, arching off the floor ever so slightly as Balam lingered there, her breath catching as her fingers caught the wetness beginning to gather between her lips. Pressing a kiss to the corner of Portia’s mouth, Balam pulled away, with a smile. “What about you?”

“I -“ Her hands tightened in Balam’s hair as Balam found her clit with her thumb. “Not a lot, after I got here. Been too busy- and-“ She bit her lip. “Obvious reasons. God, I’d love to, though. E-ever since I learnt to read I- fuck-“ Balam slid a finger into her, teasing another against her slit. Portia shifted her hips, spreading her thighs a little more as she caught her breath.  “I’ve just been- devouring all those travelogues in the library- and- oh-“

“There?”

She nodded, biting her lip. “I can take more, you know-“

“I know.” Balam crooked her finger for emphasis, brushing against the spot that made Portia gasp. “I just don’t want you to come before I get my mouth on you.” Portia’s eyelids fluttered, and she sighed.

Balam kissed her again, catching the sweat and perfume at the crook of her neck. “Go on.” She grinned, her teeth against her skin. “You were talking.”

“I’ve been meaning to, too. After all of this, I’ll just- go everywhere.“ Her voice tapered into a whimper as Balam sank her teeth into the bare skin at her shoulder. “We can go together.” Teeth tugging at Portia’s earrings, Balam added another finger into her, and Portia’s hand dropped from Balam’s hair to pull harshly at the threads on the carpet. “I’d love to go places with you. To Prakra and Milova and Balipuram, and the beaches of Sirenia, and--”

The sound Portia made was half a laugh and half a gasp.

“And the floating cities. All fifteen of them. And the far East, where-”

Gripping Balam’s chin firmly, Portia forced her to meet her eyes. “You’re playing with me.”

She wriggled out of her pants, whining as Balam’s fingers left her for a moment, and guided her hand back between her legs. “Will you fuck me properly, now?”

Balam nudged Portia’s bare thighs further apart, slipping a third finger into her. “Oh?” A picture of innocence, Balam tilted her head. “But I am fucking you.”

Adjusting herself so that Portia was half leaned up against the wall, Balam nibbled up the trail she’d kissed before, her free hand squeezing her sides, her breasts, as her thumb circled her clit quicker, her fingers picking up pace with her as Portia rolled her hips in time with it.

Portia dug her nails into her palm, catching her own hair in her hands, then gripping the carpet,then  tangling into Balam’s hair again as she kissed her desperately, breaking off into a quiet moan.

Soon enough, her breathing picked up pace, her plush thighs beginning to waver around Balam’s arm. Portia bit back a whimper, then another.

“Don’t hold back,” Balam panted. “You can come whenever you want-“

“But you said-“

She soothed her free hand down her thigh. “Change of plans.” She crooked her fingers inside her, pressing against her spot, and Portia came with a gasp and a cry, grabbing a handful of Balam’s hair and the curtain.

With an open-mouthed kiss to the base of Portia’s throat, Balam dropped on to her knees to kiss a trail up Portia’s thighs before she pressed the flat of her tongue against her slit, her piercing dragging against her sensitive walls before she closed her mouth to suck on her clit, once, and Portia arched off the wall, moaning and shivering as the aftershocks wrung another orgasm out of her.

Licking a stripe up her thighs, Portia’s muscles clenching beneath her pierced tongue, Balam lifted herself up to kiss Portia again, her nails digging into her ass.

“Good?” She asked, when she broke apart.

“Oh, really fucking good.” Portia ran her hands down Balam’s sides, working beneath the knots and folds of her dupattas. She was flushed further down her chest, her blue eyes still glittering with hunger. “What about you?”

Balam straddled her, offering her fingers to Portia, who sucked on them gently, moaning as she tasted herself. “Don’t worry about me.” Balam said, her eyes darkening as she watched her. “I’m just getting started.”