Page 130 of Crown of the Courtesan

Little balls of flame ignite from my palms. I’m half tempted to toss the fireballs toward Rett to quiet him. But instead, I lean over the fireplace and let them tumble onto the kindling.

The room quickly fills with warmth. Too much warmth, if I’m being honest, as it mixes with the humidity in the air. I unpack my bedroll and collapse onto it—not from power exertion but from my bruised body and my monthly courses that are intensifying painfully. Rett keeps yapping, but I roll over and close my eyes, trying not to suffocate.

* * *

A rough shake on my shoulder awakens me.

The fire still burns, but the furniture it devours looks different, and the scorched lacquer smells horrible. The sky outside the window is dark again. I slept the whole day, and now my bladder is screaming.

But there’s no time to think about any of that.

“Get up,” Rett urgently whispers. “Someone is coming. We need to leave.” He slams his boots onto his feet. “Shit. I think they saw the smoke from the chimney.”

Immediately panicked, I mimic him, rushing for my shoes.

But the men are already here. Outside the front entrance of our borrowed townhouse, their horses create a ruckus of heavy breathing and clomping hooves—and were those carriage wheels?

Armor rattles, and footsteps stomp as they throw open the door before we can flee. But they’re no raiders. They’re castle guards wearing red armor that shimmers silver—similar to Rett’s.

The Delamere coat of arms, a three-headed lion, glistens on a burly soldier’s chest. His cheeks are round and ruddy, and he has thin, gold-hued hair swept across his forehead. As he crosses the entryway threshold, I notice he’s not just a man. He’s a centaur, dressed in only a partial uniform on his upper torso. The other half of his body is a gleaming palomino horse.

He unrolls a coiled missive and reads: “By order of Empress Erah Delamere: Prince Everett, you are under arrest for insubordination and direct refusal to follow instructions. You are hereby under the supervision of the Royal Guard until a proper punishment can be doled out at the discretion of the empress.” He rolls the scroll up and inserts it into a ceramic tube before placing it in his leather satchel. “Don’t make me tie you up again, Your Highness.”

My gaze flickers over to Rett, who appears hollow behind his resigned eyes, his lips turning downward. “Captain Gregori, let’s not embarrass me in front of our royal guest, shall we?” He shifts to stand in front of the captain, and my cheeks warm.

Covered in dried mud from our battle with the nymphs and the journey through the forest, I don’t need a mirror to know the state of my clothes and hair.

“Royal guest?” he asks, his eyes squinting together as he peers over Rett’s shoulder and takes stock of my disheveled state. His eyebrows rise to his hairline.

“Queen Tabitha Rilea Metalla of Alexandria,” Rett announces with a flourish of his green hand. “You wouldn’t want to insult her, would you?”

Captain Gregori clears his throat but replies sheepishly, “You know I have direct orders. There’s nothing I can do to change them.” He stands tall as his resolve firms. “You’ll have to come with me either way.”

“Well—convenient timing,” Rett quips. “We need a ride to the castle. So let’s forget all this nonsense about an arrest.” He flashes the captain a generous smile before slapping him on the shoulder. He leans close to whisper, not knowing I can still hear him. “Next time, maybe skip mentioning that you like to tie me up. You might give her ideas.”

“I didn’t mean to make this awkward for your lady friend—er—I mean queen?” He peeks over Rett’s shoulder again, but I busy myself, packing the last of our supplies.

“Leave it.” Rett places a hand on my arm. “We won’t need it anymore. All the necessary provisions are already loaded in the carriage.”

“But what if someone returns and their house looks like this?” I survey the mess and damage we caused to their once-beautiful parlor.

He gives me a sympathetic grimace. “No one is coming back. Not for a long time. But a passing traveler might appreciate what we leave behind,” Rett explains in a quiet voice.

I place the bedroll on the shelf and follow Captain Gregori out of the carved townhome. Even though a shroud of night surrounds us, I can feel the eyes of the assembled guards. The air is thick with silence. I can’t tell if it’s curiosity, disdain, or respect, so I quickly move from the house’s stoop into the waiting carriage.

My tailbone slams down on the plush bench seat. The leather smells delicious, making distant memories of a luxurious past life try to resurface. Rett sits across from me and props an ankle over his knee before saying, “We’ll travel the rest of the night and all of tomorrow down the length of the Sandstone Shelf until we hit the coast. When we reach the sea, we’ll be there.”

I sigh, picking at the dirt under my broken nails. “Like I told you, I should’ve paid more attention to my geography lessons.”

“We have many maps for you to study in our castle’s library, and since you’ve mentioned you wanted one, I’ll arrange a tutor for you right away. A future empress should be well-versed regarding our lands.” My head pounds at his words, but he keeps speaking. “Don’t worry. Others will forgive your ignorance for a while.”

“How… understanding…”

He doesn’t catch my sardonic undertones because he replies, “Oh, yes, our people value academic achievement above all else, but they are also empathetic toward the less fortunate.”

My stomach squirms. I’ve always been insecure about the gaps in my knowledge from my courtesan upbringing. We, of course, had penmanship and grammar for our correspondence lessons and studied literature by the greatest authors of our times, but Madame Phyrne had always insisted that music and dancing were of the utmost importance because entertaining the High Lords came first in our line of duty, not things like geography or history or arithmetic. While we had more of an education than the commonfolk, we still were neglected. She said if I had questions about something I didn’t understand, that it could become a conversational spark. After all, Keepers loved to appear intelligent when they explained things to us.

Now I hate it.