Page 21 of Crown of the Courtesan

The shield hardens moments before impact. Instead of splattering, I hit the ground with a bone-jarring thud. Pain tears through my leg as my ankle twists. I collapse as the magic dissipates in a gust.

Dazed, I gulp lungfuls of air, my heart pounding like a drum against my ribs. Disbelief wars with dizzying awe as I lie in the grass and gaze up at the velvet-black sky, its stars glistening in approval.

Euphoria surges.

The power—my power—is real.

Buried, but very much real…

I exhale sharply through my nostrils until my pulse slows.

Through blurred vision, I can see General Metalla and Balor gesturing from the turret, their mouths moving soundlessly. I’m unable to decipher what they’re saying. My head sways. Was this Metalla’s real test all along? What is he trying to prove by being so fucking violent? My mind clips over a series of expletives, landing on an internal scream.

Gritting my teeth against the pain, I push myself up. Vomit spews onto the grass. With a wipe of my chin, I slowly and silently vow that if I can prove this power—right here and right now—by lighting the lamppost as they instructed, then they can never force me to submit to their whims again. Even if it was a fake test, I won’t give them a reason to deny me what could be mine.

I dig deep, grasping at the last shreds of magic left in me.

For too long, I’ve suffered their lecherous gazes and groping hands claiming ownership. No longer will I be at their mercy.

As the sovereign, I could finally have a voice. Even if ruling is the last thing I’d ever choose. If the crown can help me get far away, where I can be me—not a courtesan, not the daughter of the king—just Tabitha, then I’ll do what I’ve been trained to do and use every opportunity available to me to further my goals. I’ll play along if only to get rid of those who deserve it on my way out to a different sort of life. And before I leave, perhaps I’ll be able to change a few outdated laws for my courtesan sisters. This strange turn of events could be to my advantage—to our advantage.

My twisted, possibly broken ankle throbs as I force myself to stand, nearly crumpling again before steadying myself. I release a shuddering gasp as the excruciating, knife-like pain travels up my leg with each limping step, and despite the chilly night, sweat plasters my hair to my neck and forehead, my curls tangling under the circlet.

Don’t stop, I order myself.

But the lamppost is too far away.

Tremors shake my body, and my calf muscle spasms. I grind my teeth, blotting out the agony. Hot tears spill down my cheeks.

Only a few more steps. I shuffle forward, panting as everything blurs. It would be easy to give in and collapse to the ground, but if I do, they win.

Balor wins.

With a garbled yell, I push through. My palm slaps against the metal rod of the lamppost, the hard impact biting into my skin.

Leaning heavily, I attempt to create more magic. Just a spark—that’s all I need—but I don’t know what I’m doing. Nothing happens. I cry out in frustration, and the sound travels across the empty grounds.

I stare desperately at the unlit post, pleading with it, digging for the last dregs of an unknown power.

Nothing.

I don’t know how long I stand there, willing the light to come forth. As the pain in my ankle becomes unbearable, I decide to slowly turn around and hobble back to the castle.

Awash with tears, I cast one final look over my shoulder.

A spark.

A flame ignites.

My legs finally give out as shadows consume me.

* * *

The world dwindles, leaving nothing but an impenetrable veil of darkness in its place.

Blackness devours me.

I’m floating in a rippling, black-as-midnight pool of liquid. My waist-length tresses fan in the water. Shadows roam over my flesh, sending waves of contentment unlike anything I’ve ever experienced.