Page 73 of Crown of the Courtesan

We sprint through the village back to the castle, the scroll clutched in my hand, one step closer to our goal.

If I could accomplish this for Ashland… Then perhaps he would start trusting me enough to tell me what’s happening across the border—what’s happening at home.

We slow down on the path. Valora explains, “I never met the late monarchs, but I heard stories of them when I first arrived in this kingdom.” My curiosity is piqued as I continue to wonder what brought a princess of the Solarian Isles to these shores to fight, but we don’t have time for me to pry, and I doubt she’d want to talk about it anyway. “They were madly in love, even after decades of hardship—but to learn they were bonded is absolutely insane. It’s the sort of thing that creates legends and myths.”

“What happened to them?” I instantly regret asking when her eyes darken.

Her words fall like sharpened knives. “Someone killed them.”

I don’t dare ask who murdered them because I already know the blame lands on my bloodline. The unspoken reason hangs over us as we enter through the gates and return to the shadowy corridors of Ashland Castle just as the sun begins to set.

I ask, “Do you think the library holds family letters in its archives?”

“Wouldn’t hurt to check.” She shrugs.

We make a sharp detour to the library, and the musty smell of books hits my nose as we stride through the bookshelf aisles, looking for anyone who might help us.

In the corner, we finally spot a middle-aged scribe wearing a worn green robe patched at the seams. He’s writing something in a thick ledger, but he looks up as we approach, his dark-circled eyes growing more tired before we even say a word.

“What may I do for you?” he asks with a sigh.

Valora nudges me. I take a deep breath and explain our situation as my cheeks warm slightly under his scrutiny. The scribe listens intently, his face tilting in understanding, but he cuts me off mid-sentence. “We haven’t kept official records for the past one hundred years. No point, really—not when the library goes up in flames every other generation.”

Surprise hits my gut like a punch.

He shakes his head and returns to work on his ledger.

My gaze drifts over the scorched walls behind the bookshelves, something I’ve never noticed before. “Could the records have survived somewhere else, though?”

The scribe stops writing and peers up, weighing my words. “It’s possible, but if someone kept them, they’re probably hidden in a place that’s considerably less cursed.” Not wanting to be disturbed further, he takes his stack of fraying ledgers and shuffles away, but not before I hear him mutter, “Who would want to curse a library? Really? Of all places?”

Valora pulls on my elbow, and we retreat once again to my chambers. From my window, I watch the sun hang low over the horizon, casting dazzling displays of orange and crimson hues over the courtyard’s castle walls.

“How are we going to find this letter and still have time to meet Agatha?” My earlier feelings of triumph are quickly fading as I start to feel this is turning into a wild-goose chase, or worse, a lost cause.

“If Ash were here, we would just ask him,” gripes Valora, plunking down in a chair. “I mean, we could just search his room… but I don’t think he’d approve of us rifling through his things.”

Just the mention of going back into his chambers makes me remember him pushing me down onto his bed, and my cheeks heat uncomfortably.

Dropping down next to Valora in front of the fireplace, I bury my hands into my hair, digging my fingers into my scalp. “Is there an attic?”

“Not anymore. The rafters are exposed because of the crumbling roof, so they’ve stopped storing things in there. It’s been like that ever since I got here.”

I look up, studying her calm face and deciding that I couldn’t hold it in any longer. “Valora, do you mind if I ask you something?”

“Hmm?”

“Why are you here?”

What I really want to ask her is why she believes in Ashland’s plight so much that she refuses her father’s court, refuses to be a princess, and refuses her family? Wouldn’t it be better to be away from all of this suffering, on a warm beach, enjoying everything a royal life could offer? But I figure something less invasive would be better.

There’s an understanding between our gazes, and I know she’s aware of what I mean.

Her tone is muted. “This is my home now.”

“And the Solarian Isles?”

“They will always have a place in my heart, but some things never change, and when that happens, you have to make a choice. And I chose to follow Zarina here. And I chose to stay.”