Page 82 of Crown of the Courtesan

The adjoining door slams, rattling the wall between our rooms, as he enters his suite. Adele’s voice is muffled behind the wood paneling. Their conversation turns guarded and sharp.

Whatever I’ve interrupted by running away hasn’t finished—and Adele now seems inclined to voice her entitlement to it. “What do you mean I’m not welcome in your chambers anymore?”

“It’s not a good idea. Not right now. Not with her here.”

I clamp my hands over my ears, oscillating between wanting to and not wanting to listen, but not before I hear: “So, you’re really going to choose her over what we have? Who cares what she thinks? She’s not important.”

“She is important. That’s the fucking problem,” Ashland argues, his voice laced with cold fury.

“No, the problem is that she’s going to figure it out. Secrets don’t stay secrets forever.”

“If she does, she does. It won’t change anything.”

My fingertips push on my ears, but I can still hear them growing more heated until she’s shouting, and he’s freezing her with silence.

Their argument moves from his chambers to the corridors to the courtyard as he takes her tongue-lashing and sarcastic barbs. Sitting at the window bench, I pull my knees up to my chest and watch him load her supplies and prepare for her entourage’s departure into the newly fallen night.

Ashland peers up at me. With the barest tilt of his head, he causes a black mist to envelop the panes of my window, partially fogging my sight. I hold my breath as I try to decipher the shrouded shapes, squinting through the darkness. With Ashland’s back to me, I’m unable to make out his movements as Adele leans down from atop her horse and either kisses him or says something close to his face before shoving a small bundle at him. A long moment passes, and then she trots away.

Thirty-Eight

“But if you would only listen!” I stomp my foot and then promptly wish I hadn’t. Immaturity may work on other men, but not on him.

Ashland lingers in the doorway of his chambers. “I’ve heard enough. The answer is no. I’d be a fool to trust you with a sword after you tried to flee last night.”

“Consider it a token of goodwill. If you let me take Neriene after training, I could do some light exercises in my chambers at night. This place is getting dull. Even the dungeons were more entertaining than this.”

“I said no.”

“Fae above! I’d even settle for a ball at this point!”

“I’ve already compromised too much by letting you train at all. Believe me, if Valora hadn’t stepped in, you wouldn’t be doing that either. But unfortunately, even hounds grow disobedient when they’re locked in the kennels and not exercised.”

“As much as I just love you comparing me to a dog, it’s not enough… exercise for lack of a better word.”

“Then take a walk⁠—”

Valora rounds the corner of the corridor; she’s wearing tan boots with white leather pants and a cotton overshirt. “Will you two please lower your voices?” Her braided pink hair parts to reveal deep lines etched into her forehead, and her gait is heavy. She’s not happy. Not at all.

Ashland’s scowl deepens. “Gladly⁠—”

“The commanders have been gossiping all morning. After that drama last night, you two are all they can talk about, and they aren’t entertained. They’re right pissed off. I couldn’t even get them to focus on the next battle plans or the new ammunition—that took me weeks to source. Some of them are even threatening to take their bannermen home.”

My gaze swivels from Valora, standing there with her hands on her hips, to Ashland, staring out the corridor window.

“It’s not my fault,” I say, shrugging.

“You’re both to blame. Running around here like straight fools. Now Priapus is spreading rumors and rallying the others.”

“Rumors about what?” Ashland snaps.

Valora’s fingertips tap on her hips one by one. “They say Lady Tabitha isn’t on our side and isn’t providing us truthful information. They think the next battle will be a bloodbath—that we’re letting empathy drag us to ruin and that you’re too busy chasing skirts to take this war seriously.”

Ashland groans, his eyes hardening as he peers out the window at the bay of naval ships floating in the water. The weak morning sunlight reflects off the small, rolling waves.

“I warned you.” I point at Ashland. “I warned you that if you permitted Adele into your affections, they’d become suspicious. And now see this?”

He doesn’t bother turning or looking at me as his voice drags. “And what of you running off into the woods like some spoiled princess because of an imagined slight? You don’t think your actions played a role?”