Page 100 of Crown of the Courtesan

“Where do you plan on going?” he asks, but his perplexed expression freezes as he stares at my face. “And why are your eyes silver?”

Forty-Four

As the bloodied orc soldiers dismount their horses and surround the Borealla Academie, Beatrix lets out a shrill scream from the front walkway of the manor. I take a cautious step forward, and she screams again. This time, however, she runs toward me and throws her arms around my shoulders. Her hug is so tight that I can barely breathe.

“Beatrix,” I say, my voice choked.

She’s exactly as I remember: tall and willowy, with wavy honey-colored hair that shines with gold strands when the sun’s rays hit just right. But there’s a change. Her usually sun-kissed skin is paler than it was when we were in the City of Alexandria. The northern climate or something else has affected her⁠—

Rett steps back, giving us a wide berth, his eyes flicking from me to Beatrix with a guarded expression. His wary silence hangs heavy, a reminder of our tense argument over whether we should seek shelter here. Guilt and relief churn within me, an unpleasant combination.

Luckily for us, Borealla Academie is on the outskirts of the village, so there was no need to travel through a population center on the way here. Attracting attention is the last thing any of us wants. My silver eyes and a trailing horde of orcs, far from the Beast Realm, raise questions we aren’t prepared to answer.

Rett joins a gangly orc teen who helps the wounded soldiers with the horses, taking them to the stables.

This academie’s manor is smaller than the Bidding House, but it’s made of the same ornate white stone. The gardens, however, are much more extensive, featuring longer walking paths, scores of decorative flowerbeds, and numerous manicured trees that sprinkle the lawn with their falling leaves.

Beatrix leads me inside, her hand trembling slightly in mine until we reach a shuttered classroom off the main parlor and close the door behind us. The smell of chalkboards and textbooks scents the stale air.

She leans on a polished desk, her bright eyes on me, as if doubting what she’s seeing. “Sorry. I wanted to talk to you alone before the others discover you’re here,” she says, her voice shaky.

I give her another big hug, and the warmth of her body makes me feel like a girl again. “No, this is perfect,” I assure her.

And then I tell her everything.

The words pour out as I describe my harrowing journey here. Her brow rises, creasing her forehead as her hand grips mine tightly. Still, she listens and listens and listens, through the wonderful, through the horrific. I leave out only the sordid details about Ashland that I cannot bring myself to share.

When I finish, she touches my face, taking stock. Her familiar eyes observe my strange eyes. “I thought you were dead,” she whispers. “The entire kingdom does.”

Just like that, creeping fear replaces my joy at seeing her. I grimace. “Presumed dead is as good as dead when you’ve been stripped of your home.”

“You’re alive, that’s all that matters,” Beatrix corrects, her eyelashes moistening with tears before she takes a deep breath. “The entire village was in an uproar when you disappeared, and not long after that, Alisse showed back up⁠—”

The young debutante who was so distraught the day of the last Bidding… “She’s here?”

Beatrix nods. “Came in a straight panic during the dead of night.”

“What happened?” My heart pounds. “They wouldn’t tell me anything while I was captive.”

“General Metalla essentially took control over the kingdom, and…” She pauses before adding softly, “Chancellor Black married Princess Klara.”

Everything convulses at her words.

Balor and Klara?

Married?

I grasp the desk’s edge to steady myself.

“It’s true,” Beatrix says. “After they announced your death, Metalla declared his daughter the rightful queen and supported her marriage to the Chancellor… but we know who is really in charge.” My head spins, the ground beneath seeming to fall away. “They’re destroying the kingdom as we know it. They enacted new laws, changing the roles of the Lady Courtesans for the worse.”

“For the worse?”

“Yes, but I don’t know any details. Alisse barely spoke for weeks after she returned. She still won’t speak of it.”

White-hot anger and disbelief tear into me when I remember Balor’s threats over the years.

Beatrix interjects before I can express my thoughts. “And it’s hardly any better here. Women from Borealla are disappearing. Even Madame Morgana and the other three instructors vanished on their trip into town. And to make matters worse, the girls found the carriage driver and the manservant lying on the road, gutted and beheaded—” Her voice shakes, cracking in her throat. Her expression is desperate and wild with fear. “Tabitha, it’s only me and the elderly cook here to protect them now.” Fat teardrops spill down her cheeks. She hastily wipes them away.