Page 108 of Crown of the Courtesan

“You can’t coddle them. They should be pushed hard if they’re to have any chance of making progress,” Rett argues as we stand at the edge of the group.

“I’m aware of that.” I cross my arms. “But they still need to build up their skills.”

He frowns, unconvinced. “In battle, the enemy will show no mercy.”

I call out, “It’s time to pair up for sparring with the staves. Elodie, you’re with Alisse again.”

Beatrix’s head snaps toward me. “Are you sure?”

“They’re the oldest and biggest. It wouldn’t be fair to group them with the other girls.” My eyes dart between the two, wondering if I’m making the right call. Alisse smirks as Elodie shakily stands opposite her.

At my signal, Alisse immediately launches an attack, raining down blows. Elodie grimaces and stumbles backward, struggling to deflect, taking a strike across her back. She gasps out in pain, and my feet move toward her, but Rett places a hand on my shoulder⁠—

Lines furrow on Elodie’s brow as she focuses on her footwork while Alisse presses harder, her staff a blur of aggression. Rage pulses in Elodie’s eyes, but she stands her ground, dodging. Their staves crack together, the impact resonating through the courtyard. Elodie grits her teeth at the jarring collision, but a crooked smile lifts across her face.

Satisfied, Rett and I walk through the sparring groups. The rain pounds down, flattening the girls’ hair and causing their feet to slip, but the harsher the elements become, the less they complain.

“Keep the attacks aimed between the shoulder and the hip,” Rett critiques as the pairs spar. He adjusts wrists, guides elbow direction, and ensures proper follow-through. Their techniques slowly sharpen. They lack strength, but this is more than I thought we could accomplish on the first day.

Rett looks over at me grinning, and my stomach squirms. Not wanting that sort of attention, I turn away and pick up two staves, handing one to Beatrix. “It’s our turn now.”

* * *

The rain tapers off, and a crisp breeze sends pinpricks of a sweaty chill across my skin now that we are finished training. Rett gathers the supplies, and Beatrix ushers the girls inside for their midday meal while I hesitate to say something that’s been weighing on my mind since overhearing it earlier.

Rett lets out a small laugh through the drizzle. “Who knew courtesans could be so vicious?”

I snort. “They’ve always been skilled at that.”

“The little one turned absolutely feral…”

“You should know, one of the girls mentioned that strange men were in the village yesterday. Do you think they could be Metalla’s soldiers? What if they follow the girls back here?”

Rett’s laughter fades into a severe frown. “It could be anyone passing through, but I don’t like the sound of it.”

I squint through the glaring clouds. “What should we do?” My mind races with the possibilities of Metalla’s men being this close.

“It wouldn’t hurt if we checked it out. We’re close enough to the border that your silver eyes shouldn’t draw too much attention. Some witches have migrated this far south over the years. You might get some dirty looks, but I’m more worried they’ll recognize your face.”

“But they won’t recognize a famous half-orc prince?”

Rett laughs. “You might be right about that.” He ponders for a minute. “Beatrix could go with Drakka while we stay back and guard the girls.”

“I am not sending Beatrix into Borealla if I’m not willing to go myself!”

“Tabitha, you’re their deceased queen. Imagine their reaction.”

My heart trips at his warning.

“Most people only remember my older portraits from when I used to glow. I doubt anyone could identify me now, especially if I’m wearing a cloak and covering my hair with a scarf. And if Drakka went, the villagers would wonder why orcs are at Borealla Academie and come poking their noses around.”

“All right. We’ll do it your way.” Rett looks skeptical for a minute before he steps closer to me, taking a breath. “This might not be the best timing, but I need to admit something to you. Something that you need to hear.”

“What is it?”

“When I first arrived in Alexandria, I saw you in the market on the day of the Bidding Ceremony. You looked ready to tear apart anyone who talked to you, let alone bid on you. I’ll admit, I was a coward. Pretending as if I didn’t know who you were seemed the only way to get your attention. That’s why you should know your fierceness is what makes you stand out, not some glow.”

Something gets caught in my throat, and I sputter, “I’m not⁠—”