Chapter 9
Alinore
THE AIR IN the schoolroom still had the day’s heat in it.
Fat flies buzzed along the walls, the flower arrangements at the edges of the room drooped, and the water jugs on each desk sweated.
Though Calestra was a higher and slightly cooler region than Galasque, its summers were still long and hot.
Alinore looked wistfully through the open windows at the iced white peaks of the soaring mountains outside.
The schoolmaster paced across the room, the back of his neck glistening. ‘The first High King of the United Kingdoms of Galasque finally conquered all of the seven regions when?’ he asked.
Alinore looked towards Prince Samsel, who was usually expected to answer the schoolmaster’s questions, but he seemed preoccupied. His black hair was damp at the temples and he stooped over his desk, picking at a whorl in the wood.
‘Well?’ prompted the schoolmaster. He was a wispy old man with a sprout of white beard who mostly appeared as bored by his lessons as his students. ‘Prince Samsel? It’s a simple question.’
Prince Samsel lifted his head and glared, his lips clamped shut.
‘Over two hundred and ninety-four winters ago,’ called a voice. ‘Calestra was the very last region to be won. The Maiden Sacrifice marks the anniversary.’
The schoolmaster reluctantly turned to the back of the room, where the girls sat. Normally his gaze did not drift past the desks at the front, filled with the Princes and squires.
‘Correct, Princess,’ he said slowly. ‘Now, can anyone tell me about the first High King?’
There was a long silence.
‘King Freddini Tangello,’ answered Princess Cressyda.
‘He was the second son of the then King of the Diaspass Kingdom and he conquered our country from the native settlements that occupied these lands, before settling peace terms with our neighbouring country, Quetec. He divided these lands into seven regions and placed a king in each from his armies, then he crowned himself the High King of the United Kingdoms of Galasque. That’s why we retain a favourable relationship with the Diaspass Kingdom despite the troubles of Journier. ’
The schoolmaster frowned.
‘Can we just get Cress to answer your questions?’ said Prince Ottone with a grin at his sister. ‘She knows more than all of us.’
Princess Cressyda blushed, her rosy cheeks highlighting the darkness of her hair.
Alinore had noticed that Cressyda paid close attention when they were in the schoolroom.
While Alinore and the two other courtly girls who were permitted to join the Princes and squires for a few of their afternoon lessons tended to stare out of the windows or doodle on their slates, the Princess sat up straight, leaning forward in her seat, listening.
She did not act like that during the ladylike classes the girls took together the rest of the time.
Then she sighed and yawned over her sewing just as much as Alinore did.
‘That is more information than I requested, Princess,’ said the schoolmaster, jerking at the collar of his shirt which was ringed with sweat. ‘And the question wasn’t intended for you.’
‘Shut your mouth, Pet,’ spat Prince Samsel.
Two of the squires sniggered.
The schoolmaster raised his eyebrows. ‘Prince Samsel, fetch the third volume of the history of the Central Realm and begin reading from chapter twelve,’ he said. ‘I want us to focus on the formation of the kingdoms. Without interruptions.’
For the rest of the lesson, Princess Cressyda stayed silent, her eyes downcast, her hands folded in her lap.
At the end, everyone gladly spilt out of the classroom; the squires tumbling and knocking into one another, the two courtly girls rolling their eyes and giggling.
Alinore trailed behind at a careful distance.
The girls were older and not particularly friendly.
Alinore had tried to chat to them at the Midsummer Feast, but all they had wanted to talk about was hem-lengths and she would rather stand in silence alone than do that.
‘You think you’re so clever,’ hissed a voice.
Alinore paused in surprise. She was halfway down the passageway between the schoolroom and the central corridor. Glancing back, she saw Princess Cressyda standing against the wall, Prince Samsel towering over her. Everyone else had gone.
‘No one wants to hear you speak,’ he added. ‘You shouldn’t even be allowed in those lessons.’ He seized Cressyda’s arm roughly, making her flinch.
‘Hey!’ cried Alinore and before she really knew what she was doing, she found herself marching towards them.
Prince Samsel turned, scowling. ‘Who are you?’ he snapped.
At fourteen winters, he towered over her. She gulped.
‘I’m Lady Alinore.’
Prince Samsel studied her, his dark eyes cold and narrowed. ‘You’re that knight’s child,’ he said finally. A statement, not a question. His lips twisted into a smile. ‘You’re here because your father made his fortune on the battlefield and lost it all just as quickly.’
Alinore blinked in surprise.
‘Apparently, he had to go out fighting again to earn more,’ added Prince Samsel. ‘He’d gambled it all away. Too many debts.’
A hot rush of dismay surged and Alinore almost felt dizzy with bewilderment. ‘What’re you talking about?’ she spluttered. The passageway tilted slightly under her feet.
‘He dismissed all his servants and shut up his house,’ Prince Samsel continued, his smile growing wider. ‘Surely you knew?’
‘That’s not true!’
But even as she spoke, Alinore remembered that when she had bid her maid farewell a few moons ago, saying she would see the woman again soon at home, the maid had looked at her sadly and kissed her forehead without replying.
‘It is true,’ replied Prince Samsel. ‘The Queen said so, didn’t she, Cressyda?’
The Princess dropped her gaze to the floor.
‘Sir Thomaso came begging to my father for help. That’s why you’re here. You’re not a guest, Lady Alinore. You’re a leech. Just like her.’ He jerked his head at the Princess. ‘The Pet. That’s what you are, Cressyda, aren’t you? You’re the Pet.’
The Princess hunched her shoulders.
‘Aren’t you?’ he repeated, bending close to her.
‘Yes,’ she murmured.
Prince Samsel stepped back, satisfied. ‘Neither of you belong here,’ he said. ‘And everyone knows it.’ He shoved past Alinore and disappeared down the passageway.
After a pause, Princess Cressyda looked up. ‘He’s gone.’ She sighed.
The patterned rug swam before Alinore’s eyes in a wash of unshed tears.
‘Ottone usually waits for me at the end of lessons, but he had to go to sword practice early today,’ added the Princess. ‘Samsel doesn’t do that when Ottone’s around.’
This was the most Princess Cressyda had ever said to Alinore, but she barely heard it. Instead, she stood, her fingers clenched into fists, desperately trying not to cry.
‘Are you all right?’
Alinore could not see the Princess’s expression, but she could hear the pity in her voice. It made the hot knot of shame and rage inside her snap.
‘It’s not true!’ she cried. ‘What he said isn’t true.’
The Princess did not reply.
‘I hate it here!’ Alinore buried her face in her hands. She could not hold back the tears any longer and broke into shuddering sobs. ‘I just want to go home.’
Except apparently her home was no longer her home. The thought made Alinore cry even harder.
‘Would you like to come to my bedchamber and sort my ribbons with me?’ asked the Princess in a tentative, consoling voice. ‘I’ve got one in every colour.’
‘I don’t like ribbons!’
‘Oh.’
Alinore rubbed her face with the back of her sleeve, snot and tears smearing across her cheeks.
She and the Princess stared at one another.
‘Why do they call you the Pet?’ asked Alinore finally.
She had once heard two ladies-in-waiting refer to the Princess in this way, though she had not understood why.
Pain flickered in Princess Cressyda’s expression. She gazed at Alinore uncertainly, something raw and vulnerable passing across her eyes. Then her delicate features settled and her spine straightened, as though she had decided something.
‘They’ve always called me the Pet,’ she replied. ‘Because I belong to the Queen.’
Alinore hesitated. She sensed something else unsaid lingering. ‘What do you mean?’
‘If you come to my chamber and help me sort through my ribbons then I’ll explain.’
Alinore sniffed and finally gave a shaky nod. ‘All right.’
Princess Cressyda hesitated, as though weighing some unspoken risk, then she reached out and curled her fingers around Alinore’s hand. The touch was feather-light and cautious. With a small tug, she looped their arms together.
‘Come on,’ she said. ‘Follow me.’
They turned and walked down the passageway side by side, their footsteps soft on the worn rugs, the castle walls closing in around them.
And something shifted.
For the first time since arriving in the Kingdom of Calestra, Alinore felt a faint, fragile glimmer of warmth.