Page 138 of Crown of the Courtesan

Rett’s hand slips around mine as he pulls me to attention.

An intricate, golden crown crusted with emeralds rests on Erah’s flowing burgundy hair. Beneath her show of wealth, her eyes pierce me like razors, finding tender flesh as I hold my posture despite her revelations from last night slicing under my skin.

She flashes a white, toothy smile. The folds of her gold gown spread like a fan as she sits on the edge of her throne to study us closely. Taking in every detail, she says, “My son brought home such a cute stray, don’t you think?” Her commanding voice carries across the room. The courtiers inch closer, their eyes wide. They snicker as if on command.

Not hesitating, Rett booms, “With your support, we wish to win back Alexandria.”

“Dreadful business. Her kingdom,” Erah softly croons. “I hear their new queen has already fallen with child. They waste no time in creating heirs, do they?”

Time slows down.

Klara is pregnant?

My throat tightens as I imagine the worst. When I think of how she couldn’t fight off Balor—how I wasn’t there for her.

“If I had a guarantee through a Bonding Ceremony, I might consider this risk.”

And there it is.

My future, set in stone.

If I decline, I lose the armies and war power to save Klara. It will become impossible to find out why her father is kidnapping women across the realms, and Klara will be forced to keep having children by Balor.

I won’t be able to help anyone—let alone myself…

“You have my guarantee.” My voice echoes in the hall. “I’ll perform the bonding if you agree to free Alexandria from those who usurped it.”

Erah leans closer and declares, “Then it’s a bargain. The Bonding Betrothal will be held this very night, and the Bonded Matrimony will commence at next daybreak.”

Rett interjects, “Couldn’t the wedding be held next month so we can properly celebrate and feast?”

“I think it’s best not to wait.”

Fifty-Nine

After dinner, a team of goblin maids dresses me in a silver-beaded ball gown. Off-the-shoulder puff sleeves droop down my bare arms while a revealing neckline accentuates the swells of my breasts. Once my bodice is tightened beyond common sense, an attendant leads me silently down the corridor to the royal stylists’ chambers.

I enter the room filled with mirrors, fragrances, and beauty tools. Several human workers turn to inspect my entrance, their smiles not reaching their eyes.

The head stylist, a woman not much older than I am, gestures to the seat, declaring, “You’re quite the news around here. No one can stop talking about the prince sweeping in to save the day for you. We can’t believe how lucky you are!”

As they work on taming and curling my hair with hot tongs, the women take breaks and chat softly amongst themselves near the back, likely thinking I won’t be able to make out their hushed tones.

“I’m surprised. She’s rather plain…”

“She was a courtesan. They rely on that weird drink from the cathedral to glow, and now that she doesn’t have it, she’s just like any other court climber. I told you, lighting is everything!”

“Oh, it must have helped her quite a bit then.”

My face heats at their subtle barbs. I stare straight ahead in the mirror as I pretend not to listen.

None too gently, the head stylist comes back and yanks a jade comb through my hair as she twists curls around my circlet in loops.

I hear someone else whisper, “I suppose she must be made presentable, but why did they have to send her here? We could have sent one of the new girls to her chambers instead. I mean, what will some of our more conservative patronesses think if they see her here? She’ll run off the clientele!”

Another girl murmurs, “I heard she seduced the prince using sex spells. Disgusting.”

My internal composure cracks, but I sit still like a statue, trapped in this chair.