Page 63 of Crown of the Courtesan

I’ll return home early for once.

—Cliodna

I flip the page to read the following passage, but the last struggling ember in the hearth winks out, plunging the room into darkness.

Thirty-One

At dawn’s first light, a clanking and clattering rouses me from sleep. I climb out of my new bed and, through the misted window, watch Valora sword-fight three figures in the courtyard while an assembled group of twenty or more women observes from the side. With a growing smile, I realize that not a single person is able to best her.

Framed by the feminine rays of the sunrise, Valora snaps her head up, her pink hair bouncing on her shoulders as she meets my gaze.

I duck under the window frame, hitting my head with a thunk, but I slowly peek back over—more stealthily from behind a curtain this time.

“You can stare all day if you want,” she yells, brandishing her broadsword in my direction, “or you can get your prissy ass down here and learn something.”

My heart nearly leaps from the window!

Not only does she notice me, but she also invites me to train… Running erratically around the room, I slam my feet into boots and throw on a plain gray dress without stopping for breath. Only vaguely aware that my guard is following and shouting, I sprint through the castle, pinning my hair up as I go, and dash into the courtyard before he can stop me.

“Good of you to join us.” Valora smirks, pressing a wooden sword into my hand as I skid to a stop in front of her.

It feels clumsy and strange. I try a practice swing and nearly lose my grip. My fingertips tingle.

Could I really do this?

She clucks her tongue and shakes her head, declaring, “I don’t care who you are—no woman will go untrained under my command. Welcome to the Stormwatch.”

Standing in two parallel lines, the other women wear matching leather uniforms and iron breastplates. They appear to be a unit of female fighters. Age, height, weight—none of it seems to matter; they are all here for one thing: training.

I hold the practice sword and stare at it with awe. It’s rare for a woman to become a warrior in Alexandria. There are unspoken rules. Etiquette and manners.

But here, it seems they encourage these skills.

I don’t know what I could learn in a single morning, but I’m willing to find out.

She paces between the rows. “Today, we practice the basics of swordplay. A much-needed refresher for some of you—but do not worry. No matter your skill level, you’ll find something to help you with your drills and sparring.”

From the corner of the courtyard, a man snickers while splitting wood.

His ax comes down noisily, so Valora raises her voice. “Your greatest asset as a woman will be men’s underestimation of you.” She plants her feet shoulder-width apart and bends her knees, ready to sidestep. The blade in her hands reflects orange and red in the early light as she transitions into deflection drills and demonstrates the proper grip with fluid movements.

The group mirrors her stances, and I follow along to the best of my ability—which isn’t saying much. The other women are clearly judging my novice skills with their sideways glances. It makes anxiety painfully twist my gut. I’m desperate not to embarrass myself.

“Let go of your fear,” Valora says, moving her steel blade in a graceful arc. “Your wooden swords are lighter than their metal counterparts. Allow yourself to tap into a natural rhythm and move with me. Are you listening, Polly? Copy me, Griselda.”

After we practice for what seems like hours, the bleeding sunrise gives way to a bright robin-blue sky, and Valora declares we are ready to partner up.

Feeling my face drain of color, I step forward and spar against a woman with fire-red hair who’s around the same age as I am. She attacks with a flurry of blows, instantly becoming aggressive. Again and again, she strikes with her wooden sword as if she wishes the blade were real. With each blow, I angle my blade slightly, deflecting and dissipating the force—until finally her weapon cracks in half. Sweat drips into my eyes, stinging them. I’m honestly surprised I’ve persevered this far.

My opponent sneers, throwing the splintered wood at my feet as she gasps for breath. Her gaze is drawn upward, and she suddenly looks as if she’s pissed herself.

I twist around to see a furious Ashland striding into the courtyard, his dark cape billowing from his black-armored shoulders. “Why are you teaching her to fight?” he snaps at Valora.

She bites back, “You know damn well every woman is welcome to train.”

“Sometimes you should make an exception to that rule.”

“Sometimes you should mind your own bloody business.”