Page 139 of Crown of the Courtesan

After what feels like forever, my hair, rouge, and lip stain are complete. The head stylist puts a gilded mirror in front of me and puckers her lips. “The prince will be so pleased.”

Not knowing what to say, I silently study my painted face—I don’t recognize her.

When I speak, my voice comes out light. “I’m sure you did your best.”

Her smirk disappears.

I stand and take my leave. Only once I’m alone do I allow myself to feel the sting of their words.

Also dressed in his formals, Rett saunters down the corridor with a group of demon lords. When he sees me leaving the stylist’s chambers, he excuses himself from them. I’m not quick enough to hide my lingering feelings because his smile drops as he notices. He strides to my side. “Hey, what’s with the long face?”

“It’s nothing,” I answer, fixing a hairpin that’s poking into my scalp in the worst way possible. Surprising myself, I admit, “I overheard some people talking about me. I just… thought it would be different here.”

“Gossip is in every court,” he says matter-of-factly with raised eyebrows.

“Yes, but I thought the Beast Realm was more accepting. Yet this place is just as merciless as Alexandria.”

He takes me by the elbows and gently makes me face him. He peeks down the corridor at the stylist’s door. “Tabitha, are you really going to allow some servant make you doubt yourself?”

“I suppose you’re right,” I softly say, placing a hand on his forearm, hoping the conversation will come to an end.

“They’ll be expecting us soon. Have they informed you that I won’t be escorting you into the ballroom due to our timed entrances?”

“No, not a single person has told me anything that might help me,” I say, exasperated.

Rett gives me a pitying look and leads me down the main corridor, my crinoline and petticoats bouncing between our legs. “You’ll enter from the antechamber when your name is called. After that, the ceremony will proceed as planned.”

I incline my head, but his instructions are difficult to focus on over the rising tide of emotion pulsing in my eardrums. “Can you at least show me where to wait?”

“Yes—but we should hurry.” He grabs my hand and pulls me through the long corridor until we’re at the servant entrance of the ballroom. After climbing the service stairs, we enter a petite room with exit doors at either end. It’s furnished with a few upholstered chairs and spindly side tables. Ball preparations rumble loudly underneath us, much like the first night we spent above the tavern.

His arm catches my waist, and he lets out a hungry growl. Spun around, I can only see a blur of his burgundy hair and emerald face. When he releases me, I’m so dizzy that I don’t notice when his lips come crashing down on mine, adding to the confusion. I clutch at my bodice, my ribs aching under the restraint of my stays. They aren’t usually this tight, but the dressing maids assured me that this is the style for a formal Delamere Court.

Rett swings the door shut, enclosing us in darkness. My heart flutters with a hint of panic. He whispers hotly in my ear, “You’ll become my Bonded Betrothed when we leave tonight, and everyone shall know my devotion to you.” A light flickers to life on the side table as Rett strikes a flint and lights the candle.

Twisting my hands, I whisper, “You still don’t care that I’m not in love with you?”

Doesn’t he have any reservations?

“Not in the least,” he answers, his mouth a tight line. “That will come after I put my orclings into you. It’s in your nature as a woman to attach yourself to the father of your offspring.” He kisses the top of my head while I try to stay calm. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

He leaves.

And I wait.

Alone with nothing but my miserable thoughts.

I watch through a tiny crack in the doorframe as the guests file into the ballroom. Across from me is a balcony above everyone, a place where a harpy perches, his voice ringing, “Let the promised betrothed come forth to complete the Bonding Rites.” After his announcement, he spreads his wings and glides downward to join the crowd waiting on the dance floor.

I take a shuddering breath, open the door, and step out to place one hand on the sandstone railing. Dressed in their finery and jewels, the nobility glitter with curious eyes as they watch my descent down the curved staircase. Rett emerges from the other entrance on the opposite side of the ballroom and meets me before his mother’s dais, where she sits on a new throne. Instead of twisted branches, this royal seat is crafted from pure, solid gold.

Empress Erah rises—regal red lips stretching into a satisfied smile. “The son of an empress and the daughter of a king. You two have come here to forge a solemn promise to complete a Bonding Betrothal and join our royal houses. A unification that will go down in history across the realms. Before these witnesses, do you promise to keep your vows, or will you allow your lifeblood to consume you until you are bonded no more?”

Rett gives a strong nod and solemnly says, “I do.”

Everything is depending upon me.

With a nod of my own, I repeat Rett’s determined words. “I do.”