Page 55 of Crown of the Courtesan

Those eyes.

Silver and gleaming in the dark.

With my outstretched leg, I kick the bucket of piss and excrement, toppling it over and sloshing it onto his boots. The smell is atrocious, but I don’t care.

“You can be quite aggressive. Did you know that?” he asks.

Pointedly ignoring him, I turn toward the wall.

“If you refuse to speak, I won’t be able to offer you an opportunity to leave.”

I scoff internally.

Squatting low to get on my level, he says, “It has unfortunately been brought to my attention that your skills may be better used elsewhere rather than squandered in this dungeon. You could be an asset if you prove to be cooperative. And since you were so fond of the idea of being my needy piece of cunt before, I have a proposition for you.”

There are many things I wish to say in response to his crass language, but I swallow the words like shards of glass.

“Pretend to be my willing, smiling courtesan lover while my war generals stay at the castle, and I will release you from this cell. I’ll even give you better quarters. This squalor isn’t suitable for someone of your status, so it shouldn’t be hard for you to say yes.”

I’m not interested in any part of this new plan. He’s a monster like Balor, and I’d rather die here in this dungeon than fall into bed with an ambitious, cruel man once more. I’ve had enough of that for a lifetime.

After all, it was foolish to believe I could beguile the Witch-King—that he would find me tempting enough to let down his guard. The outcome would have been violent. It always is.

He only wants the power and control on his terms.

And I’ll have no part of it.

I grind my teeth. “I’d rather not.”

* * *

He’s come back.

I can feel him staring at me.

Glaring at his dark outline, I grumble, “You aren’t welcome here.”

He stands tall, his breathing faster than usual. “I go where I please in my castle. You should thank me for not wanting to leave you in here.”

Is he insane?

Is he actually insane?

He’s the reason I’m in here in the first place… My hands ball into tight fists. “Get out!” I stand, stumbling as I try to shove him, but I instantly regret it, hoping he doesn’t strike me back.

The Witch-King steps closer, his voice measured. “Don’t forget who holds the power here.” He raises a hand, and I flinch. But instead of striking me, he reaches to receive the lantern being passed to him by a guard.

The lone flame turns brighter, hurting my eyesight.

The Witch-King’s eyebrows knit together as he studies me carefully.

I lift my chin defiantly against the light. “Have you come to threaten me again?”

He dismisses the guards, and my racing heart plunges into the stone floor. “I’m here to see if you reconsidered my offer.” His hands tighten around the lantern. “Be my courtesan willingly. Publicly support Ashland over Alexandria.”

“Never,” I say, laughing bitterly as a familiar sickness settles inside me. “I’d rather lose my sanity in here than ever be in your bed.”

“Good. I don’t want you in my bed either. My bedmates come willingly and without motive.” His voice is so callous that I turn from the sting of his rejection.