Chapter 34
Alinore
A KNOCK AT the door made Alinore jump. Panic seized her and she snatched open a drawer of the nearby dresser and thrust the sword she had been holding inside.
‘Come in,’ she called.
The door opened and Alinore held her breath. No one usually ventured as far as this dusty room at the back of the guest quarters. Not even the servants. Since the beginning of King Borto’s declining health, guests to the Calestran court had dwindled and these quarters had been deserted.
A tall, broad figure appeared.
‘Prince Ottone?’ said Alinore, feeling a glow of happiness. ‘What … what’re you doing here?’
His gaze dropped to her legs and his step faltered.
‘Oh, oops.’
Alinore had the skirt of her dress scooped up and tucked into her belt. She knew she ought to feel mortified being caught with her stockings revealed, but it was just Prince Ottone. He had seen her wearing breeches the day before last. He would not be scandalized.
‘I was practising attack stances,’ she explained, pulling her skirts free. ‘I wasn’t expecting anyone.’
Prince Ottone peered around, his cheeks flushed pink. ‘Is this your room?’ he asked.
Alinore hesitated. Then nodded.
‘You don’t stay with Cress any more?’
‘No.’ A familiar mixture of pain and sorrow twisted in her chest.
‘Why not?’
There was a long pause.
Alinore opened her mouth to explain their bitter argument and the cruel, harsh words they had said to one another. The wound that still had not healed. But words failed her and she pressed her lips firmly back together. She did not want to repeat those terrible things.
When it became clear that she was not going to answer, Prince Ottone asked instead, ‘Has that painting always been there?’ He pointed at a spot on the wall over her shoulder.
‘No, I moved it to this room. I didn’t think anyone would mind.’
‘A lady knight?’
‘It’s Princess Tiannie.’
Prince Ottone gave her a searching look and Alinore fidgeted under his gaze.
‘I’ve been looking for you all morning,’ he said. ‘I finally asked one of Mother’s ladies-in-waiting and she said she had heard that these days you are known to be often in the guest quarters.’
‘Which lady-in-waiting?’ she asked.
‘Lady Frankis.’
‘I should’ve guessed,’ muttered Alinore.
Lady Frankis was as much of a gossip as her mother-in-law, the Chief Lady-in-Waiting, Lady Vienlia.
‘Probably. There aren’t many left.’
Courtiers had also been in decline at Syonno Castle since the first inklings of King Borto’s disease.
As more and more feasts, tourneys and balls were cancelled, courtiers wanting diversion and opportunities to fraternize were inclined to visit other courts.
Only the older, faithful members stayed.
And those like Alinore, who had no other choice.
‘Everyone has started pouring back for Samsel’s coronation,’ added Prince Ottone. ‘They’ll be throwing their daughters at him from the moment he crosses the region’s border. He’s twenty winters and he still has not chosen a wife.’
Neither have you, thought Alinore. But she quickly reminded herself that it did not matter.
She did not care if Ottone married some small, pretty princess from another court.
It was only natural he would, sooner or later.
People talked of it often enough, whispering about how neither of the Donolaino Princes had yet taken brides.
Alinore firmly told herself that she was not interested.
She had her own path to follow. That was what mattered.
‘How’re you faring after the news of …’ Alinore’s voice lowered. ‘King Borto’s passing?’
Prince Ottone’s drew in a deep breath and turned his face away.
‘I don’t know,’ he replied after a pause.
‘I’m sad, of course.’ He dropped his hands to his sides and when he spoke again, his voice was quieter.
‘But I suppose there’s some relief too. He wasn’t himself at the end.
It was a shock to return from Journier and find him like that. ’
Alinore had guessed that Prince Ottone might feel this way. She could hear a twisted mix of grief, disappointment and guilt in his voice.
‘He wasn’t exactly a doting father,’ Prince Ottone continued. ‘But he wasn’t unkind either. And I think he understood me more than Mother ever has.’
Alinore nodded. ‘King Borto was proud of you. Everyone could see that.’
Prince Ottone shrugged, but he looked relieved.
‘And I know what it’s like to lose a father,’ she added softly. ‘It’s difficult.’
Prince Ottone glanced up at her and, for a moment, Alinore thought he was about to reach for her hand. His gaze lingered, caught somewhere between warmth and hesitation. But then he looked away and the moment was gone.
‘Why were you searching for me?’ Alinore asked, trying to ignore the quickened thud of her heartbeat.
‘I came to speak to you about Cress. She seems worried.’
Alinore sighed. She thought Cressyda should be worried about her future at Syonno Castle. ‘I no longer spend time with the Princess,’ she replied with a shrug.
Prince Ottone nodded, his expression grave. ‘I’ve noticed. Why is that?’ he asked, leaning towards her. ‘What’s happened between you?’
They were close to one another and Alinore could see the tiny flecks of green in his dark eyes.
‘I’ve been busy,’ she replied. ‘I’ve had all my drills and training. You’ve seen how much I’ve progressed. I’ve been working hard.’
Prince Ottone’s shoulders fell. ‘Did you quarrel with Cress because she doesn’t approve of your plans for squireship?’ he asked.
Alinore felt her cheeks burn red. ‘What has she said to you?’
But Alinore had known Prince Ottone too long. She could see the way his features contorted as he tried to choose his words carefully. Her heart sank.
‘Surely you can see that your plan to apply for a squireship is …’
They both waited for him to finish.
‘… unlikely.’
Alinore inhaled as if the breath had been knocked out of her.
‘You’re a skilled fighter,’ he added quickly. ‘That much is obvious. But you’ve not had all of the other training. What about archery, battle strategies and magical tactics?’
‘I would learn that as part of my squireship,’ she snapped. ‘I know there’s plenty more for me to study.’
‘And what would you plan to do with such training?’
Alinore drew herself up tall. ‘Join the High King’s army,’ she said. ‘You know that.’
Prince Ottone chewed his lip. ‘You think fighting is noble, but it isn’t. There are no heroes in war.’ His voice was clipped and unusually strained. ‘I’ve seen it with my own eyes now – horrible things that I wish I could forget.’ He rubbed his face. ‘There’s no glory in it, just blood and chaos.’
Cressyda’s snarling words floated into Alinore’s mind: ‘You think that he was a hero, but you’re wrong.’ She shook her head fiercely.
‘My father died for this country.’
‘Yes, I know,’ replied Prince Ottone. ‘But there’re no lady knights in the Kingdoms of Galasque. I don’t doubt you could do it, but who will let you?’
‘Lord Lassiaro—’
‘Your father was a great knight, but Lord Lassiaro has had many knights,’ said Prince Ottone, raking a hand through his dark hair.
‘I met him once at the Ferente court and he’s just a crusty old man.
Even if he remembers your father, I don’t think he will grant you a squireship.
’ He hung his head. ‘I’m sorry but it’s the truth. ’
Alinore’s chest had tightened with every painful word, squeezing tears up the back of her throat. She turned away, blinking hard, desperate that he should not see her break.
‘I’m not trying to upset—’ Prince Ottone began, his voice gentler than it had been, almost pleading.
‘Please go.’
‘But—’
‘Please!’
A silence stretched between them.
Alinore could feel Prince Ottone standing there, his presence at her back, unmoving, uncertain. At last, she heard him clear his throat; when he spoke, it was quiet, almost formal. ‘As you wish, Lady Alinore.’
The scuff of boots on tiles, and then the door creaked shut.
After a beat, Alinore let out a wail of rage. She covered her face with her hands and dropped to her knees.
Prince Ottone did not believe she could do it.
No one believed she could do it.