Page 112 of Crown of the Courtesan

As I turn to leave, Rett steps forward and gently grasps my hand. “Wait. Please.”

I pause, my body stiffening.

“Of course, you want control over your life. I do understand that.” His tone is soft and comforting, causing tears to well in my eyes. I rapidly blink them away. “The choice is yours alone. I’ll support your decision, whatever that may be.”

“I’m just… I’m just so scared of making another mistake.” The breeze sends a loose curl across my face.

He pulls me into his arms, wrapping me in a hug. His warm breath shoots onto the top of my head. “Never mind all of that. I’ll find a way to help you, even if we don’t marry. I promise.”

The wind gusts again, snatching at our clothes and making it difficult to stand upright. I burrow deeper into his arms, smelling his freshly laundered shirt. Hot tears spill forth down my cold cheeks, dotting the fabric across his chest.

Rett tilts my chin up. “Whatever comes next, we’ll face it together. As allies, as friends, anything you need. You have people who care about you, Tabitha. Don’t forget that.”

* * *

Thunder rumbles as I roll over, the sheets tangling around my legs. Sleep evades me, my mind churning, no matter how I try to calm myself.

The pinging of rain on the roof fills the empty silence. I stare up at the ceiling, listening to the storm building. With a frustrated sigh, I kick at the covers, trying to get more comfortable. A pit of dread settles in my stomach—one I can’t seem to shake.

Lightning flashes, momentarily illuminating the room in stark brightness. Not a second later, thunder cracks loudly, and I flinch as the wind howls, rattling the shutters.

I squeeze my eyes shut. They hurt and won’t stop fluttering. Gradually, the storm lulls me into a fitful sleep⁠—

A scream shatters the silence.

I whirl around to see armored figures dragging a helpless Klara through a castle corridor. She wails and struggles in vain as they disappear. I sprint after them.

The throne room sharpens into focus as the two guards push her before Balor. He wears a newly made crown of pure black metal, twisted into a monstrosity of spikes and black diamonds. She tries to free her arms, but their grips are ironclad.

“Let me go!” Klara demands, hazel eyes flaring as she kicks her legs. Balor motions for them to release her, and she collapses in a heap of canary-yellow silk. I’m desperate to run to her, but I’m frozen, incapable of movement, as I watch in abject horror.

He leans on the gleaming throne, which reflects the vast fires roaring in the triple hearths along the opposite wall. He regards her coldly. “My darling, I’d hoped we could avoid further unpleasantness.”

Klara lifts her chin, her strawberry hair falling from her elegant updo. “Why haven’t I received letters from my father?”

“He’s a busy man defending the kingdom. He does not have the time to respond to your childish fits, and considering he left me in charge, he probably doesn’t deem it necessary to involve himself.”

“What of my other letters?” she hisses. “You’re keeping my correspondence from me.”

“Now,” Balor says calmly, “why would I allow you to keep in contact with Wella after she was publicly outed as a traitor? That wouldn’t be very smart of me, would it?”

My heart beats against my ribcage, thumping into my ears as everything inside me screams in protest.

Klara’s eyes widen, but she stays silent.

Balor stands and circles her like a vulture, pecking at her. “Did you think I wouldn’t uncover your secrets? The late-night meetings, the hidden scrolls in the library?” He snatches her wrist, revealing ink stains on her fingers. She tries to pull away, but he tightens his fist. “Tell me now. Tell me everything about her plans, her allies, her location, and you might leave this room unscathed.”

Klara turns her head defiantly. “I’ll die first!”

“Don’t worry. If you keep acting like this, you’ll end up the same way as your ex-betrothed. He didn’t enjoy the things we did to him, but I will make sure you love what I do to you.” His mouth twists in pleasure as he makes a curt gesture.

A guard strikes Klara’s cheek. Staying on her feet, she staggers and whimpers but refuses to answer.

My voice strangles, and no matter how I strain to yell, scream, plead—no sound comes out.

I’m helpless as I watch.

Rage ignites across Balor’s sallow features. “So be it. Lock her inside her chambers and secure all the exits. We’ll see how long she lasts.”