Run, Princess.
At first, Cressyda did not hear the words. But then they came again.
Run, Princess.
They burst into her consciousness, crackling through her skull, bringing her back to herself. It had been a long time since she had heard one of the shadows so clearly, but she recognized the strange, scratchy language that seemed to shiver along her bones.
Run.
A crash sounded in the passageway to the left.
Prince Mariso started in surprise and pulled away from Cressyda, turning his head to look behind him where a painting had fallen from the wall.
Something moved in the gloom: a shifting of darkness, a faint stirring of movement. It was one of the shadows; Cressyda was sure of it.
‘Who’s there?’ he called.
In the dimness, Cressyda could just make out a squat, hunched outline, familiar in its distorted, grotesque form. She knew this creature. It was the thing that often skulked around the castle nursery, its snubbed face terrifying her throughout childhood.
Run, Princess,it growled.Run.
Cressyda shoved Prince Mariso back.
He staggered, tripping over his feet with a grunt of surprise.
Spinning away, she fled in the opposite direction, her heart pounding and her teeth chattering. She could still feel the sensation of Prince Mariso’s hands upon her, tight and pinching, and she could still taste him in her mouth, sharp like dread.
‘Wait!’ Prince Mariso yelled after her. ‘Stop!’
At the very end of the corridor, Cressyda slowed, daring to look back. She saw Prince Mariso, a dark figure standing beside the fallen painting. There was no one else. The creature had disappeared as if it had never been there at all.
‘What did you expect, Pet?’ snarled Prince Mariso, his voice echoing down the passageway. ‘Don’t you know what you are?’
Cressyda turned away, her fingers trembling in fists at her sides.
Alinore
ALINORE SWUNG THEwooden practice sword over her head, keeping her grip on the hilt loose enough to let it turn in her palm. The blade rotated and landed straight, point extended. She held the position: knees bent, arm outstretched and chest upright. It had taken her many moons of practice to build up the strength for such a controlled manoeuvre.
‘Very good,’ said Prince Ottone. And she could tell that he meant it.
After a beat, she dropped her stance, rolling her shoulders and shaking out her feet. ‘Are you impressed?’ she asked.
He laughed and nodded.
Last night, she had pulled him aside at the end of dinner and told him to meet her in the far storeroom behind the stables the next morning. He had looked a little startled when she had grabbed him. Since his return, the preparations for the Maiden Sacrifice had consumed everyone’s attention, and this was the first time they had spoken. On reflection, she realized she probably should havegreeted him first, and asked how he fared, but the dining room had been busy and there were plenty of court girls queuing up behind her to exchange pleasantries with the Princes so she had needed to be efficient.
‘Do you always practise in here?’ he asked, glancing up at the cobwebbed ceiling. His voice was even deeper than she remembered and where his head was tipped back, she could see more dark stubble sweeping down his chin on to his neck.
‘Yes,’ she replied. ‘Every day.’
As far as Alinore could tell, the storeroom was mostly unused, filled with odd bits of broken tack, discarded crates and general rubbish. It was the perfect place to perform her fighting drills undisturbed.
‘Does Cress know?’
Alinore shrugged and looked away. ‘No one cares what I do.’
The gaze of the Calestran courtiers tended to slide over Alinore as if she were a familiar piece of furniture: an old armchair or a dusty tapestry. Something constant and unimportant. She had grown accustomed to being overlooked by everyone except Cressyda. Yet lately, even the Princess had seemed distracted and unreachable, forever flicking through books from the library or staring into the distance. Alinore told herself that she had kept her daily fighting drills a secret because her friend would not care, but the truth was simpler: she feared what Cressyda might say.
