Two of the squires sniggered.
The schoolmaster raised his eyebrows. ‘Prince Samsel, fetch the third volume of the history of the Central Realm and begin reading from chapter twelve,’ he said. ‘I want us to focus on the formation of the kingdoms. Without interruptions.’
For the rest of the lesson, Princess Cressyda stayed silent, her eyes downcast, her hands folded in her lap.
At the end, everyone gladly spilt out of the classroom; the squires tumbling and knocking into one another, the two courtly girls rolling their eyes and giggling. Alinore trailed behind at a careful distance. The girls were older and not particularly friendly. Alinore had tried to chat to them at the Midsummer Feast, but all they had wanted to talk about was hem-lengths and she would rather stand in silence alone than do that.
‘You think you’re so clever,’ hissed a voice.
Alinore paused in surprise. She was halfway down the passageway between the schoolroom and the central corridor. Glancing back, she saw Princess Cressyda standing against the wall, Prince Samsel towering over her. Everyone else had gone.
‘No one wants to hear you speak,’ he added. ‘You shouldn’t even be allowed in those lessons.’ He seized Cressyda’s arm roughly, making her flinch.
‘Hey!’ cried Alinore and before she really knew what she was doing, she found herself marching towards them.
Prince Samsel turned, scowling. ‘Who are you?’ he snapped.
At fourteen winters, he towered over her. She gulped.
‘I’m Lady Alinore.’
Prince Samsel studied her, his dark eyes cold and narrowed. ‘You’re that knight’s child,’ he said finally. A statement, not a question. His lips twisted into a smile. ‘You’re here because your father made his fortune on the battlefield and lost it all just as quickly.’
Alinore blinked in surprise.
‘Apparently, he had to go out fighting again to earn more,’ added Prince Samsel. ‘He’d gambled it all away. Too many debts.’
A hot rush of dismay surged and Alinore almost felt dizzy with bewilderment. ‘What’re you talking about?’ she spluttered. The passageway tilted slightly under her feet.
‘He dismissed all his servants and shut up his house,’ Prince Samsel continued, his smile growing wider. ‘Surely you knew?’
‘That’s not true!’
But even as she spoke, Alinore remembered that when she had bid her maid farewell a few moons ago, saying she would see the woman again soon at home, the maid had looked at her sadly and kissed her forehead without replying.
‘It is true,’ replied Prince Samsel. ‘The Queen said so, didn’t she, Cressyda?’
The Princess dropped her gaze to the floor.
‘Sir Thomaso came begging to my father for help. That’s why you’re here. You’re not a guest, Lady Alinore. You’re a leech. Just like her.’ He jerked his head at the Princess. ‘The Pet. That’s what you are, Cressyda, aren’t you? You’re the Pet.’
The Princess hunched her shoulders.
‘Aren’t you?’ he repeated, bending close to her.
‘Yes,’ she murmured.
Prince Samsel stepped back, satisfied. ‘Neither of you belong here,’ he said. ‘And everyone knows it.’ He shoved past Alinore and disappeared down the passageway.
After a pause, Princess Cressyda looked up. ‘He’s gone.’ She sighed.
The patterned rug swam before Alinore’s eyes in a wash of unshed tears.
‘Ottone usually waits for me at the end of lessons, but he had to go to sword practice early today,’ added the Princess. ‘Samsel doesn’t do that when Ottone’s around.’
This was the most Princess Cressyda had ever said to Alinore, but she barely heard it. Instead, she stood, her fingers clenched into fists, desperately trying not to cry.
‘Are you all right?’
