The Queen nodded. ‘There were some … debts that needed clearing.’
Alinore felt her legs buckling beneath her. She staggered and someone grabbed hold of her, hauling her upright again.
‘Mother, I should like Lady Alinore to be my companion,’ said Cressyda.
Alinore looked up to see the King and Queen exchanging glances.
‘She can move into my bedchamber and attend me,’ Cressyda added. ‘She doesn’t need to go and live with a cousin she’s never met – she can stay with me. Please.’
There was a pause.
‘The decision lies with you, my Queen,’ muttered King Borto. ‘It’s your household.’
‘The expense—’ began the Queen.
‘I’ll share my things. It won’t cost anything.’
Alinore was dimly aware of the voices around her, but all she could really hear was the roar of her own heartbeat in her ears.
‘Please, Mother.’ Then, quietly, Cressyda added, ‘I’ve never asked you for anything before. Please let me have this.’
The Queen sighed. ‘As you wish it, my child.’
Alinore felt the clasp of the Princess tighten around her, then her legs gave way and she fell to the floor, sobbing.
THREE WINTERS LATER
Alinore
ALINORE NUDGED HERmare into a canter across the brow of the hill. Below her, the hunt streamed through the valley, the brown swirl of the hounds disappearing into the woods beyond, following the scent of the horned hare, and the galloping riders thundering after them, ruddy faces turned into the beating wind, their horses’ coats velvety dark with sweat.
‘Lady Alinore?’ called a voice.
She slowed her mare as Prince Ottone cantered up beside her on a bay stallion.
‘Why’re you back here?’ he asked, peering down at her. ‘You’re missing the kill.’
The ears of Alinore’s small mare only reached the shoulder of Prince Ottone’s stallion. Alinore had asked the stablemaster several times if she could ride one of the larger horses in a hunt, but he always replied that at sixteen winters old, she was still a young lady and should be seated on smaller mounts. Ridiculous.
‘I don’t like the killing bit,’ she replied. ‘Anyway, why aren’tyoudown there?’
Prince Ottone always looked most comfortable riding and he was normally at the head of the hunt, leading the charge.
‘I thought I should check on Cress. And you.’
‘Or maybe it’s because you don’t really like the killing bit either?’
Prince Ottone shook his head, but she knew that she was right.
‘How is Cress finding it?’ he asked, turning in the saddle to look behind them.
Further down the hillside stood a cluster of ladies on horses, flanked by guards and stable boys. The Queen was among the group, easily spotted in her rich indigo riding habit and trailing veil. Cressyda was wearing an identical version, and both of their mounts had matching sapphire ribbons woven around their bridles. Even from this distance, Alinore could see that Cressyda’s petite, delicate figure was sitting stiffly in the saddle, every part of her enduring the occasion.
‘She’d enjoy it more if she got rid of her side-saddle,’ said Alinore. She rode astride, unlike most of the court ladies. ‘Cress just needs to be bolder.’
‘Sometimes people can be too bold …’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
