Page 25 of Crown of the Courtesan

And then it extinguishes.

I slip back into the stack of feathery pillows and allow slumber to pull me under once more—dreaming of a storm battering a ghostly white ship across the rolling, massive waves.

Eleven

ASHLAND

Waves crash against the sides of the dark wooden boat, and sea spray coats my skin in a fine layer of salt and morning dew. I draw in a long inhale, breathing the peaceful aroma that the water gives when I’m alone.

Ahead, the pebbled beach awaits as mist snakes between the emerald pines slicing into the horizon. But before I’m able to reach it, another dinghy filled with a handful of my advisors approaches, clearly too impatient for the slower pace I choose.

The two vessels knock against each other in the choppy waters. As they’re tied together, I toss a netted bag of freshly caught cod into their boat. It lands between the polished boots of Priapus, and he gives it a disgusted sneer.

“Take this to the village—it will have to do. The main boats won’t be back for a few more days.” I shake my head slightly, looking toward the deep sea. “The herring and haddock are becoming harder to find in this area. Even the cod are growing scarce.”

A sailor holding the oars nods obediently and reaches around to set the fish in a basket attached to the inner wall of the boat.

“Your Grace—the generals have assembled as ordered,” Priapus says, wrinkling his nose. “We have received confirmation: Metalla is dead.” I give him a long stare and watch as crimson patches rise above his collar and up his meaty neck. “But there’s been a succession issue we weren’t expecting. It looks like that bitch courtesan had progeny with the king after all.”

“I already know.” My words are a threat—violence laced with darkness.

A promise.

Twelve

Delicious wafts of sizzling sausage and steeping tea drift over me. The bed is buttery soft under my fingertips. I sit up, wiping drool from the corner of my mouth and crust from my eyes. My head pounds from sleeping with the circlet still pressing into my skull.

With a shock, I remember.

Phyrne’s revelation.

The boot on my back.

Everything that turned my world upside down in a single night and led me to wake up in this strange place. I throw off the blankets and furs.

Morning light floods the royal suite, illuminating tabletops littered with books and chairs piled haphazardly with scrolls. Rolling blackboards with maps taped to them take up space by the bright windows. Gilded oil paintings adorn every wall, adding to the charming, disheveled atmosphere of the private chambers that belonged to the father I’ll never know.

“You’re awake!” a young lady chirps from behind the food cart near the doorway, half-chewing something. “Oh, you don’t look so good.” She peers over a silver lid, the steam enveloping her face.

I grunt and rub at my temples. “It wasn’t an easy night.”

“Night? You’ve been asleep for two whole days.”

My stomach drops. Two days?

The neckline of my ruined ceremony gown digs into my skin, itching up my chest and neck. I want nothing more than to be out of it.

“They tried to put you in a fresh nightgown, but you wouldn’t stop fighting the maids. You even gave one girl a nasty bite!”

Leaping to my feet, I sprint across the room to the dressing table. My muscles and limbs ache, but my ankle is no longer injured. I can’t help but wonder if the circlet healed it in my sleep.

The three-paneled mirror halts me. A stranger looks back through the glass.

My glow is gone.

The ordinary woman staring back isn’t ugly. She has all the same features as I do, but the luminescence from the Rite of Allurement has vanished. Gone are my effortlessly sleek, waist-length spirals; my hair is now frizzy and oversized, with wild curls and knotted loops. The rich brown color has become less vibrant, and the strands no longer shine with golden undertones as they once did. Rather, my hair is mousy brown—pale and dull.

My fingers run over the torn chiffon of my gown. I shake my head and unhook the back of the dress, quickly wondering how I could persuade the Spirit-Fae Cathedral to grant me the Rite without participating in the Bidding Ceremony.