Page 62 of Crown of the Courtesan

I take a deep, steadying breath.

With so much talk about Captain Wellcrest, I’m overcome with an urge to confess what I know about the missing womenfolk he’s supposed to be investigating. But Ashland’s eyes are full of distrust as he looks at me, so I decide to wait.

We listen to a log being devoured as the night grows late, and my eyelids droop despite these surprising revelations. Even the whispers are quiet. Ashland stretches his long legs before rising, and the hounds jump up to follow him.

As he passes me, I place my palm on his arm and look upward at him to ask another question. “Why does King Andarta’s daughter fight for your kingdom?”

“That is one story I don’t have the right to share. She is a close friend, and I respect her privacy.” His tone is final.

Their friendship seems genuine, but something about it makes me curious, perhaps even suspicious, about how it came to be. I know better than to ask him again, though.

“Then can you at least tell me why our kingdoms went to war with each other in the first place?”

“Tabitha, I won’t be your teacher.”

I stifle a scowl, and Ashland returns to his suite with the click of the adjoining door. I stare after him longer than I care to admit, waiting until I’m sure he’s gone before I dig the diary out from under the cushion.

Extra candles are nowhere to be found in my room because of either a scarcity of supplies or a lack of interest in keeping a captive comfortable. Thankfully though, the last log still illuminates the space. I move closer, but the light barely reaches the faded paper. That doesn’t stop me from opening the pages and reading:

65 days until I return.

There’s a problem.

There’s absolutely no way the wedding with Prince Aros will happen now. The two kingdoms can take their trade deal and put that burden on someone else’s back. I’ll simply have to live with Grandfather’s disappointment. To be fair, if Father manages it daily, it shouldn’t be that difficult. And really, what is so crucial that I need to suffer endlessly like this?

If Tam believes a different economic plan is viable, surely there is another way.

Oh, dear journal, you ask why, do you? Because—because the ball was a disaster!

On the high balcony above the ballroom, Aros surprised me with a tiara encrusted with a shining gemstone in the center. All could see its glory as he placed it on my head.

“The Ashland Jewel,” he declared. The audience clapped and cheered until my ears rang. He drew me close with his hands wrapped around my shoulders and whispered in my ear, “You should know I wasn’t speaking of the tiara, Cliodna.”

Twisting away from the sea of courtiers, I burst, “I am no trinket, nor am I to be flaunted as a piece of property.”

Aros’s ears burned red at the tips before he motioned for my hand and led me downstairs to the ballroom. We danced in silence, and when the orchestra finished, he left without looking back.

For the rest of the miserable night, the gossipy ladies hounded me with questions about Aros until my head throbbed. To make matters worse, my skin would erupt into a sweat whenever I remembered my sharp tongue. So naturally, I slipped into the garden to cool off.

I sat on a bench under a bloom-covered trellis, shredding flower petals while replaying the night over and over in my head. Twigs crunched, and none other than Aros himself emerged from behind the rosebush, clipping a rosebud for his front pocket. Most would assume it was for aesthetic reasons, but I knew he would pull it out for observation when he returned to his notepad and quill later that night.

“Come to tell me off?” I asked, clenching the rose so tightly that the thorn on the stem pierced my finger, drawing blood.

“I was here first.” He plopped down next to me on the bench and reached for my finger. With a turn of his palm, he made the blood disappear, and the skin reformed itself as if the wound had never happened.

But I didn’t want to see his healing magic. I wanted his emotion. I wanted words. “Say what you’ve been longing to say then.”

His eyes hardened as he met my gaze.

“Fine! I’ll go first, like always! You can’t possibly think I’d be excited to label myself a Jewel of Ashland when I’m an outsider year after year. How can I love this land if I’ve never left the castle grounds? How can I call this place my future home if I’ve never seen your kingdom except through a carriage window?”

I finished it off by describing how I’ve despised him since childhood because he’s always ignored me—always avoided me. He listened until I was out of breath and on the verge of tears.

Then without a word, he offered his arm before walking me back to my chambers, where he kissed me on the cheek.

Nothing good is going to come of this.

Well, maybe one.