Page 114 of Crown of the Courtesan

The morning sun beats on the manor’s arched windows as I leave for the last training session with the courtesan pupils. Loud voices echo off the stone walls. I slow my gait so I don’t interrupt Alisse and Robert, who are arguing near the entrance.

“The city is just as dangerous as the villages.”

“There are more guards and more supplies,” he insists, raising his voice and pointing his finger toward Alexandria. “We should leave.”

“We can’t abandon the girls. Beatrix has been counting on me ever since the other instructors disappeared. She needs my help.”

“We need to think of our safety first. That means making difficult choices.”

I hesitate in the foyer, but they don’t notice me.

“Difficult choices…” Alisse murmurs. She looks down, twisting the brown velvet ribbon on her gown, the fabric scrunching between her fingers. Tears build in her eyes. “But they’re just children, Robert.”

He falls quiet, clearly at odds. He loves her, which is evident from how his pale cheeks flush with shame as he gazes down at her, seeking silent forgiveness. The shadow of a blond mustache grows above his upper lip that is set into a tight line. He relents, releasing the tension in his shoulders. “I’ll talk to my Da at the farm… but you should know that all the neighbors have already left.”

“Robert…”

“I won’t lose you again.” He reaches out, cupping Alisse’s face before he leans down and tenderly kisses her. “I’ll be back tonight. I promise.”

Robert strides away, his heavy boots stomping down the porch steps as Alisse watches him. She turns around, her cream gown swishing. Her line of sight lands on me as I awkwardly loiter, but she doesn’t seem surprised—only an air of resigned tiredness. “Oh, it’s you,” she acknowledges, her voice more subdued now.

“I didn’t mean to eavesdrop,” I apologize, stepping further into the entrance hall. The floorboards creak under our weighted conversation.

“It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters anymore.”

Here’s a girl who clearly believes the worst in me, and perhaps she has every reason to do so, but that doesn’t mean I have to welcome her sour company. I’m not a sucker for punishment, and I would much rather be joining the training session outside. But instead, I stand beside her, looking out across the yard from the front door. “Sometimes it feels like nothing matters, but that’s not true.” She turns to me, her eyes hollow, but I continue, “You matter. You’ve been a leader for the girls, yet you’re barely older than they are. There are times when you’re hard on them, but I’ve seen how you’ve been helping them. Making sure they’re where they need to be and taking the youngest girls to give Beatrix a break. In fact, I’ve seen you take on more responsibility than any eighteen-year-old should. It’s okay that this is difficult to deal with. Fae above, I’m twenty-eight, and this is damn hard for me too…”

She says nothing, but I see a flicker of something twitching in her brow, a suppression of emotion.

All at once, Beatrix bounds up the front steps, clutching her ribs, her voice tinged with restrained excitement. “I’ve been looking for you!”

I grab her elbow to keep her steady. “What’s the rush?”

“There are some important papers I think you should see.”

“But we have training with the girls.”

“Rett and his warriors are giving the final lessons. He wants to teach them how to set up their own training once they leave. We’ve got a little time, so come on.” Beatrix takes a candle from the entry table and lights it. I give her a curious stare as she motions to follow.

For some reason, Alisse trails behind, but I strangely don’t mind. Beatrix leads us upward through the manor’s grand stairway, marching up the servant’s staircase until we stop at the garret doorway. I swat at the cobwebs clinging to my face while she removes a ring of keys from her pocket. She uses the smallest key; the lock clicks open. Then the hinges squeal on the wooden door as we enter the attic.

The sun seeps through the dormer windows, casting light on the neglected furniture, rolled carpets, and the stacks of crates that fill the overly crowded space.

A scent of cedar lingers. Alisse sneezes and waves away a cloud of dust. “What exactly are we looking for?”

“Records. I know I saw something with Theodora’s name.” Beatrix weaves between the towers of crates toward the far corner, away from the light. “It’s in here,” she says, her candle bringing focus to the back wall, revealing floor-to-ceiling shelving crammed with identical square boxes. The flame flickers, casting shadows over the peeling labels. She slides one box from its cubby, the bottom scratching against the wood. Lifting the lid, she reveals many folders bloated with paperwork. “This one.” She passes me a bundle loosely tied with twine.

Untying the knot, I sift through the stack of random correspondence. One letter catches my eye, but it isn’t about Theodora—it’s about my grandmother, Matilda.

The long-ago-broken wax seal crumbles at my touch. With trembling hands, I smooth the yellowed paper and read the inked script.

An official notice from the High Priestess of the Alexandrian Spirit-Fae Cathedral. My heart drops as I read the words aloud:

To the Esteemed Instructors and Madame of the Borealla Academie:

It has come to our attention that a member of your institution, Matilda Brynne, is presently with child. In our boundless wisdom and foresight, we have deemed that her condition necessitates special intervention.

Therefore, in accordance with the laws of the Kingdom of Alexandria and the sacred decrees of the Spirit Goddess, we hereby command Matilda Brynne to be brought to the Spirit-Fae Cathedral for the judgment of her crimes forthwith. A Priestess of the Order shall arrive to escort her. It is paramount that she and her unborn child be under our protective care and guidance.