‘I’ll be gone before he returns.’
It seemed to take a moment for Alinore’s words to register.
‘What?’ replied Cressyda, turning. ‘What do you mean?’
Alinore had not meant to say it; the words had just slipped out. But she could not take them back now. It was what she had been planning for the last few seasons, each passing moon only hardening her resolve.
‘I’ve some flecks from my hair,’ she said. ‘And a little else put aside. I can’t stay when Prince –King– Samsel returns. I don’t want to stay in a kingdom under his rule.’
‘You’re … you’re leaving?’
Cressyda stood, a slight, delicate figure silhouetted against the window, the morning sun blazing behind her like fire. For a moment, she appeared her younger self again: the anxious, forlorn little girl who had befriended Alinore in her time of need. Clearly that same sorrow still flickered beneath Cressyda’s composure, though she tried to hide it behind the stiff poise of a princess.
‘Yes,’ replied Alinore, swallowing back a lump of guilt.
She could not let herself waver. The choice had been made, and she would see it through. She was leaving and that was the end of it.
‘Where’re you planning to go …?’ Cressyda trailed off, her expression darkening with understanding. ‘No, Alinore. Don’t be so foolish.’
Alinore’s remorse hardened into indignation. ‘What do you mean?’
‘No one is going to grant you a squireship, Alinore. No one.’
Alinore knew that Cressyda felt this way, but the Princess’s words still stung. ‘I’m the one that’s foolish?’ she hissed. ‘I think it’s more foolish to stay here. Whyareyou staying?’
Cressyda’s lips parted, as if to reply, but no words came. Finally, she turned back to the window, her face hidden in the glare of sunlight. ‘You mustn’t leave, Alinore,’ she whispered, her voice unsteady. ‘It’s too dangerous. Outside the castle we have no protection.’
‘I don’t need protection, I can look after myself,’ Alinore scoffed. With a hiss of irritation, she turned away, her boots striking hard against the terracotta floor as she marched out of the room. At the threshold, she paused and looked back. ‘I’ll do as I please,Princess,’ she barked, before slamming the door shut behind her.
She had tried to warn Cressyda about what lay ahead, but if the Princess would not listen, then there was nothing else she could do.
Cressyda
THE CLOYING,SWEETscent of death hung in the air. It mingled with the musty smell of the scroll racks against the back wall and the spiced smoke from the incense burning in silver dishes around the casket at the centre of the Sanctuary, which held the body of King Borto.
Cressyda gulped and edged closer to the stone plinth. Her embroidered shoes tapped on the blue and white tiled floor, echoing around the vast, vaulted room.
A dark shape at the side of the plinth unfurled into a thin, gaunt figure.
‘Cressyda, is that you?’ asked the Queen.
‘Yes, Mother. You called for me.’
Straightening from a curtsey, Cressyda looked into the Queen’s sunken face, her skin pulled tightly across jutting bones. She knew Queen Flavria had barely eaten since the King’s sickness worsened, keeping a constant vigil at his bedside for the last moon, her seat in the dining hall empty at every meal. She was worn and weak.
‘I’m glad to see you. Come to me.’
Cressyda felt a surge of nausea as she walked into the Queen’s open arms. Brittle limbs squeezed around her.
‘I can’t believe he’s gone,’ the Queen gasped into her hair.
Cressyda patted her mother’s narrow shoulders.
‘It was a peaceful passing. Now he sits with Calestran nobles of time gone by at the feet of the Great Creator in the Last Realm.’ The Queen whimpered and her chest began to shake with sobs. ‘Dear man!’ she cried. ‘He loved us so much. He loved you.’
Cressyda knew that was not true, but she nodded.
The round windows of the Sanctuary had been covered with black silk and the circular room was dim. The ribbons that hung from the domed ceiling had been tied aside, the hanging strips forming a dark, tangled web.
