Page 79 of Crown of the Courtesan

She tilts her head back and lets out a hearty laugh. “Oh my goodness!” Adele coos. “That makes me remember the time we spent an entire night at those abandoned stables near the coast, and the stableboy showed up. He nearly died when he saw us doing everything but sleeping in that haystack⁠—”

“Ah, excuse me,” I say, uncomfortably warm as I move the collard greens around my plate with my clenched fork. “Will Valora be joining us tonight?”

Ashland takes a long drink from his goblet before answering, “I’m afraid not. She’s with a Stormwatch member who’s giving birth in the village.”

“Quite the versatile general you have there. Not afraid of women’s work, is she? Although it’s probably for the best that she’s not here—seeing how she’s not the biggest fan of mine,” admits Adele, not an ounce of care on her nonchalant face.

Ashland ignores her last sentence, explaining to those sitting around us, “Valora tells anyone who will listen that the beginning of life is just as important as the end. I believe if she ever hangs up her sword for good, she’d take up midwifery in its stead. It’s a skill she learned from her sister.”

“Well, I wish I had time for such frivolity, babies and all, but I’ve been busier than a hornet without a home. You wouldn’t believe the number of noble families sending their daughters to the Citadel for safekeeping. Most are coming from Alexandria, and they’re ever so full of news and gossip. They make spying almost too easy with their wagging tongues.” Adele slaps Ashland’s chest for emphasis, making me slightly flinch.

I lean forward, suddenly very interested, my utensils falling to my plate. “Do they speak of Princess Klara?”

Eyes flashing, she shuts her mouth just as quickly as she opened it.

Ashland clears his throat pointedly at Adele. “Not here. Reports are to be given in private for the time being.” He meets my stare, as if silently ordering me to keep quiet.

“Ah,” she softly says.

Ashland stands, placing Adele firmly on her feet before scooting his chair back under the table. “Adele, I’ve got the map of the catacombs you need. I’ll fetch it from my chambers and meet you in my study. Your brother has my other copy, so please don’t lose this one.”

“I might as well save you the trip and walk with you. My legs need a stretch after such a long ride.”

“As you wish. I know you’re on a tight schedule.”

They leave the dining hall, walking together as they continue to reminisce. My eyes narrow on their backs, and I notice he’s wearing the black brocaded tunic usually reserved for special occasions. After a delayed thirty-second pause, I follow, listening to their banter and her insipid teasing.

They’re already in the king’s suite of chambers by the time I reach mine, but they aren’t quiet, and I hear far, far too much…

I wonder what Ashland would think if he knew about my keen hearing. What he would do if he discovered I could hear his nightly tossing and turning in that creaking bed, or his fitful mutterings as he paces late at night, doing who knows what? After learning of my hidden skill, would he force me to stuff cotton in my ears or something equally ridiculous to keep me in check? I wouldn’t put it past him.

Now it’s my turn to pace back and forth across the already-worn rug. I try to listen more closely, but they aren’t talking anymore.

Furniture scrapes repeatedly. My feet stop moving.

Really?

But that sound could mean anything.

A chair dragged across the room? A table bumped into? I envision Adele spread over the table, those boots on full display. Adele riding him in a chair, her perfectly smooth hair cascading back. Adele’s golden nose ring reflecting in the firelight as he kisses her.

My overactive imagination sends flames to my face. I only wanted to catch a snippet of conversation about Alexandria. Not my supposed captor or benefactor or—whatever-damn-situation-he-is-to-me—fucking some other woman in the next room.

I need to get out of here.

This place is officially unbearable.

The sentry outside my door gives me a knowing, sympathetic nod as I hurry past him, carrying a stack of library books and my cloak. He doesn’t ask questions, and I don’t offer excuses.

The library’s curved entrance passes by, and I keep walking. Slow, not to attract attention. I dump the books in a crate by the wall.

I’ve come with nothing. I’ll be leaving with nothing. It’s unfortunate that my circlet forfeits to him, but I value my sanity more. I won’t waste my only chance, not while he’s completely and utterly distracted.

I’ve wasted too many other opportunities as it is.

Thirty-Seven

The courtyard brims with activity, crowded with Adele’s entourage, soldiers milling around, and castle servants sorting and loading supplies. I tighten my cloak’s hood, pretending to block out the low-sitting glare of the late sun. Before I can second-guess myself, I steal a burlap bag of wilted carrots from an unattended cart and climb onto a small gelding still harnessed near the mound of half-eaten hay.