‘The incense got in my eyes!’ said Alinore quickly. ‘That’s all.’
But she could feel tears threatening the back of her throat even now. She missed her home, a neat villa flanked by olive trees and lavender bushes, filled with pretty decorations from her father’s travels. She did not know how long she would be staying at Syonno Castle. Before he left, her father had said that she could not live at home while he was away this time; she was too old and needed experience of courtly life. Her mother had died from a sickness shortly after Alinore was born, and she had not been brought up under a woman’s supervision – which her maid frequently pointed out. But Alinore did not care. So far, her experience of courtly life was disorientating and tedious with too many manners, pointless ceremonies and silly chatter. There was nothing interesting to be learnt from it as far as she could see. At least she had finally become used to the fast, clipped accent of the region; she had spent the first few days in Tormale barely understanding what everyone was saying.
‘Has Cress shown you her collection of ribbons?’ asked Prince Ottone. ‘I told her she should.’
Alinore shook her head.
Princess Cressyda had pointedly ignored her since she arrived. Occasionally, when they were milling about the Queen’s chambers with the ladies-in-waiting, Alinore caught the Princess watching her with an intense, hostile expression.
‘She’s very proud of the ribbons; she has one in every colour.’
‘I don’t really care for ribbons.’
Prince Ottone laughed, a deep, warm sound.
Alinore had often studied Prince Samsel, the firstborn Prince of Calestra, who was tall and slight, with taut features and flinted eyes, but she had not paid much attention to his younger brother. Prince Ottone always seemed to be lingering in the background of royal occasions, biting his nails or shuffling his feet.
‘Ottone!’ called a voice behind them. ‘Ottone, what’re you doing out here?’
They turned to see Princess Cressyda hurrying towards them. She was also dressed finely in an embellished blue dress and jacket with layers of ruffles and coordinated bows braided into her black, shining hair. Alinore expected the Queen would be wearing a matching outfit; they were always dressed the same.
‘Mother wants to check you’re respectably turned out and …’
The Princess caught sight of Alinore and her step faltered.
‘Cress, I found Lady Alinore up here all alone,’ said Prince Ottone, beckoning to his sister. ‘It’s her first Maiden Sacrifice.’
Princess Cressyda folded her arms and did not reply.
The sound of shattering glass rang out below them, followed by deep bellows. They turned to see guards running to one corner of the square where a brawl had broken out.
‘Why does a girl need to be sacrificed?’ asked Alinore.
She had heard of Calestra’s spring tradition before she arrived, of course, but it had always sounded like a macabre fairytale from a faraway land. She had never paid it much attention. Then, a few days ago, King Borto had announced the upcoming Maiden Sacrifice, and it was met with grave, accepting expressions from his court. Since then, Alinore had observed the preparations with queasy bemusement.
‘It’s an ancient treaty between the Mountain folk and the Great Dragon,’ said Prince Ottone. ‘It means the dragons leave us all alone.’
‘How does it work?’ Alinore had seen Mountain folk around the castle – men and women who spoke in breathy accents and wore cloches over their heads: a pale, bell-shaped bonnet that fell low over the brow. They were all servants.
‘A girl with Mountain blood who is eighteen winters old is chosen by lot and sent to the Great Dragon. The Mountain folk are descended from the first people of this land and they formed a treaty with the Great Dragon to protect them when the armies from the Diaspass Kingdom first invaded. Otherwise our ancestors would’ve wiped them out when the United Kingdoms of Galasque were formed.’
‘And this chosen girl gets … eaten?’
‘Probably. They never return.’
Alinore grimaced. ‘IfIwas a girl from a Mountain village then I’d just move somewhere else.’
‘It wouldn’t matter if you did,’ replied Prince Ottone with a wry smile. ‘Any girl with Mountain blood is included no matter where they are in Calestra.’
Alinore glanced over her shoulder at the soaring, jagged peaks in the distance. Behind Syonno Castle lay walled gardens that turned into the royal farmland, which eventually faded into the slopes of the mountains.
‘Will we get to see a dragon at the ceremony?’ she asked.
‘Of course not!’ snapped Princess Cressyda, her amber eyes flashing. She had looked increasingly uncomfortable throughout Alinore’s questioning. ‘The dragons are dangerous. We do all of this to keep them away.’
Alinore pursed her lips.
‘Guards take the girl into the mountains,’ explained Prince Ottone after a pause. ‘And leave her to walk the rest.’
