Drafting a note to feign stomach illness was easy. The gods knew I’d emerged unwell after animpassionedservice more than once. I could likely use that excuse once or twice more before the fortnight ended. Still, doubt crept in, would it be enough?
I shook it off. There would be time to adjust the plan if needed. For now, my focus had to remain on finding a way into Gadriel’s travel plans.
Even the smallest step mattered.
For now, this would have to do.
I could speakto the other courtesans, though I had little desire to.
Consorts and courtesans held an odd place in Hyrall’s order. We were granted rank, but never truly respected. We were close enough to power to unsettle the nobility, yet not far enough removed to be dismissed outright. Some saw us as little more than decoration or tools of the Crown.
Leya, Rosette, and Imogen might say otherwise, but ours was a gilded world. Visible, but never accepted.
Sometimes, I wished that same distance applied to our interactions with each other. It would spare me their jealousy.
“You missed breakfast this morning,” Leya said, her eyes narrowing.
“I did,” I replied.
“Care to explain your absence?”
“No.”
“I see.” A delicate frown touched her otherwise flawless brow. “Then I can only assume the prince is beginning to tire of you.”
I put down the book that was resting in my palm and leveled my eyes with her own.
“My absence was owed to the demands of a role you’ve yet to achieve,” I said. “The prince is always satisfied, no matter how often he calls for me in a night.”
Leya’s face flushed crimson, her cheeks puffing with envy.
I don’t fault her for harboring resentment toward me. Gadriel hand selected her first out of the four of us, after all. It’s a difficult thing to feel replaced, and that feeling is intensified when you’re constantly measuring yourself against another.
Among all of the prince’s courtesans, Leya bore the closest physical resemblance to me. Instead of my wavy raven hair, she had loose, brunette curls, and her dark, ochre eyes competed with the gleam of my obsidian ones.
Once I escaped this place, I’d gladly pass the crimson tassel to her.
My first week in Hyrall felt like a waking nightmare. I’d never felt so lost in my life. Leya, a viper in her den, was the worst of it. There was no shelter from her venomous behavior. It’s astonishing how Rosette and Imogen still stick close to her despite her cruel nature. Because, they too, have felt the sting of her white-hot temper.
The look she gave me now was the same one she wore a year ago. I remember it well.
The dayafter Gadriel dismissed her and the others, Leya cornered me.
She stormed through the courtesans’ quarters, weaving between velvet sofas and lacquered tables with a fury that made heads turn. Her steps were sharp, her focus deadly. When she reached me, I’d just turnedfrom the window, startled by the sound of her heels on the stone. My heart leapt.
She jabbed a manicured finger into my chest.
“You,” she snarled, “you despicable skirts-slug.”
I blinked. “I—I’m sorry…”
“You are nothing but a lowborn, nameless consort,” she spat, twisting the title like it soured her tongue. “What are you hiding from us?”
I drew back slightly, eyes wide. “I don’t know what you mean.”
Leya sneered. “Play the fool if you like, but I see through your dewy act. The prince has never dismissed a courtesan in the middle of service.” Her voice cut through the room. “His Highness has never sentmeaway.”
Leya seized the sleeve of my dress and yanked, her nails grazing my skin as she tried to rip the fabric from my shoulders. I recoiled instinctively, wrapping my arms around myself as I stepped back, heart racing.
