Page 32 of Crown of the Courtesan

His stoic face has the faintest hint of a blush under his dark skin. “I will escort you then.”

“That won’t be necessary, Captain. I’m quite capable on my own.”

I brush past him, more desperate than ever to abandon this awkward moment and bury myself in study.

Fifteen

Honeysuckle vines encasing the Bidding House droop lifelessly in the cool rain as Captain Wellcrest lurks nearby under the magnolia tree, giving me some privacy.

Inside the mansion, courtesans laugh and sing their practiced melodies, shadows dancing behind curtained windows—a reminder of who I was. So much has changed in just a few weeks. Rain droplets run down my face, mingling with tears on the swell of my cheeks.

Sneaking around the manor’s perimeter, I reach Madame Phyrne’s window in the back garden. Knowing that it’s always left slightly ajar for her cat, I hoist myself through—just like I used to do in my misspent youth—and tumble inside, my feet tangling in layers of skirts and petticoats.

Her office is empty.

Phyrne, who is usually working from her desk, isn’t here. Her chair is an open void that leaves a strange pang in my chest.

“Tabitha.” Her voice rings out, causing me to skitter out of my skin. “You’re too old to still be climbing through windows.” She’s always been a master of hiding in plain sight, a skill that often catches her pupils off guard. “And at any rate, I would have thought you would be too busy to return here.”

I flip around, my wet cloak clinging to my dress. “How could you even suggest such a thing?” I lie, embarrassed that I’ve been avoiding her.

“The past is easy to forget when adjusting to a new purpose,” she replies evenly as she holds a chubby orange tomcat that we all affectionately call Thomas. She slowly strokes his fluffy mane. The frail woman from the turret is gone; her iron-willed countenance has returned.

“I wouldn’t forget my home.”

“Then child, please explain why you’re climbing through the window like a thief in the night?”

A thousand different answers run through my head. “Because I need to know why you didn’t tell me.” My voice is suddenly childlike. I feel stupid repeating the king’s words, but they are all I have to cling to. I’m taken back to those academie days, racing to her in tears over some scraped knee or silly quarrel, seeking her cold and restrained comfort. She was the closest thing to a mother I ever had, and I’m sure she tried her best, but…

Phyrne places Thomas on the floor, and he slinks toward me, rubbing against my legs. That pang in my chest burrows deeper. I miss my old life, including the cat’s late-night visits.

“You couldn’t think of a better excuse?” she asks matter-of-factly. Her words bring a shameful heat to my cheeks. She sinks into her chair with a weary sigh. “As I’ve told you before, I did as Theodora requested. You’re already aware of all this. So why are you truly here?”

“I craved an escape you could have given me at any time,” I choke, bitterness welling. “I deserved to know that I was different…”

“You are no different from the others.” Phyrne levels a stern look at me. “You were delivered by a courtesan mother, just like every courtesan born before you. Remember, it’s our way of life, and we have duties to perform. You aren’t special in that regard.”

“Oh, yes.” I roll my eyes and scoff. “Never forget what’s expected.”

“By declaring that you didn’t belong to the king, Theodora also labeled you a bastard the night of your birth. That made you no better than any other babe left with me.”

I grumble a hollow laugh. “Say whatever you need to absolve yourself. It’s not like this new life is any different. Sure, I may have a new title, but it comes with more constraints, more rules, more judgment.” Plucking the circlet from my head, I toss it onto her desk. The Alexra shimmers against the dark mahogany grain as the whispers in my mind lash out angrily in response.

“You have choices, Tabitha.” Phyrne doesn’t touch the circlet. “Marry and cede power to a husband who can rule for you, or struggle against the council alone. I’m no fool; I know they will be working against you every step of the way.”

I shake my head as my stomach pinches and twists—neither path is appealing. Abdication looks to be my only choice.

“Then by all means, choose a different course entirely.”

I glance at her through dampened eyelashes. “What do you mean?”

“Leave.”

My heart skips a beat or two.

She knows.

She knows exactly what I yearn for. I picture a quiet life in a quaint bookshop, far away from this kingdom—a place where nobody recognizes my name or face. But something about it feels oddly absurd. Alexandria is my home.