Page 58 of Crown of the Courtesan

“Yet you are still a man.” My fingers clench at my sides. “And… you must not use your… influence over me. No spells, no magic to sway my will or emotions.” The thought that this is a possibility tastes bitter.

“That’s not how my power works, but you have my word.”

“Good.” Relief washes over me, but it’s short-lived. “In return, I’ll uphold my end and play the part convincingly. Your allies will believe our arrangement.”

“Convincingly,” he repeats, standing up and stepping closer. “This means a certain level of partnership—but we shouldn’t pretend to trust each other. It would be unwise, considering who you are.”

“And are you any better after you threw me into the dungeon simply for touching you, only to retrieve me so I can do it again, but this time with an audience and your blessing?”

“Neither of us wants to be in this situation, but life doesn’t give us many choices, does it?”

My eyes never waver from his. “Then it’s settled.”

“Not so fast. We went over your rules, but now it’s my turn. First, you must speak of our arrangement to no one. Second, stay away from my private chambers. I will come and collect you when you are needed.”

“Very well, Ash.”

He looks as if I poisoned him.

“I don’t care what we’ve agreed to. You’re not to call me that. Instead, you may address me as Ashland.”

“Very well—Ashland.”

Twenty-Nine

I’m not sure what to expect when I receive my new quarters, but what I’m faced with catches me off guard.

It’s a royal suite of chambers, traditionally belonging to the queen, as it adjoins the king’s rooms. Ashland was quick to inform me that my placement here is so he can keep a close eye on me—as if I don’t already know that.

It seems nobody has used the chambers in years, possibly decades. The stale air smells of burnt wood and dust, making me sneeze as I step in. My footsteps sound hollow on the creaking floorboards as I observe the deep forest-green walls and the blackened fireplace that gives the impression of a long-ago fire growing out of control, charring the mantel, and nearly swallowing the entire wall standing between the king’s and queen’s chambers.

To my relief, a massive four-poster with a recently stuffed feather mattress and clean sheets appears inviting. Next to the bed, a small bookshelf is littered with books covered in a thick layer of grime, while an empty wardrobe lines another wall and a locked trunk sits at the end of the bed. Every item claims secrets and stories untold. Women have lived and died here, and now it’s forgotten—neglected—like everything else in this castle.

After a maid brings in a bath, I sink my tense body into the hot water and try not to picture what pretending to be his courtesan captive will look like—what a man like the Witch-King could order me to do.

Leaning on the tub’s edge, I lazily run a cloth over my skin, staring at the burnt wall and thinking of nothing until my mind wanders, imagining Lir pulling my naked body under the waves near his seaside cottage. The whispers roar like the ocean, but a current strikes back with the force of an enraged tide.

Stop.

Lir is living his life with someone else. I can’t fault him for that. And even if that weren’t the case, none of that would matter because I’ll never see him again if I fail to escape. Though the thought of escaping feels nearly impossible as exhaustion weighs my naked and exposed limbs down.

Attempting to change the course of my thoughts, I begin to wonder if Captain Wellcrest’s scouts are helping Rett find the missing womenfolk. Or how Klara is managing with me gone. Then I remember how distant and powerless I am to help, which makes me bury those thoughts too.

The stern housekeeper stomps in when the water turns tepid. She’s carrying a wicker basket full of dresses, shoes, and undergarments, fresh from the seamstress and cobbler. She hangs them in the wardrobe.

Before my bath, I didn’t know what to do with it, so I hid the diary under the cushion of an upholstered chair. I watch her closely. She doesn’t do any tidying, but she does hand me a sealed note with a disgruntled sigh before she leaves.

Dinner at 7:00. Wear something nice. Be prepared to meet people.

—A

Already?

But I need more time to rest. More time to gather my thoughts. More time to prepare—so I don’t act as though I hate everything about this man in front of the very commanders I promised to convince.

Although…

My eyes dart to the wardrobe’s array of new hand-me-down gowns—heavy emerald velvet, navy silk glinting with golden thread, and vibrant crimson satin—out of fashion, but still regal. I bite my lip, knowing the type of scandalous gown the Witch-King would want me to wear. The type that impresses men…