Alinore
Cressyda stood in the middle of the room, dressed in a black mourning gown. Her straight dark hair shimmered loose around her shoulders. She must be waiting for the maid to arrive and pin it back for the day.
‘What … what are you doing here?’ she asked.
‘And what’ve you done to your hair?’ Cressyda added, peering closer.
‘I cut it,’ she said.
‘But why?’
‘I sold it.’
Cressyda’s eyes widened. ‘And you’ve been walking around the castle like that?’ She folded her arms. ‘People have seen you like that? The Queen’s going to—’
‘I don’t care what the Queen thinks.’
This was the first time Alinore had entered Cressyda’s bedchamber since their argument.
She had seen the Princess at a distance around the castle in the moons since, but neither had acknowledged the other.
Alinore had attended as few gatherings of the Queen’s household as she dared, inventing excuses whenever she could.
Each time she had caught sight of Cressyda among the courtiers, her stomach had clenched with something that felt a little like regret.
‘I’ve come to …’ Alinore trailed off, wondering how to put into words the unease that had clung to her chest since yesterday. ‘I’ve come to make sure you realize what lies ahead,’ she said. ‘Now that the King is dead.’
Fear rippled across Cressyda’s features before she swiftly composed herself once more. ‘Well, thank you for offering your condolences,’ she replied coolly.
Alinore frowned. She knew Cressyda did not think of King Borto as a father.
He had never pretended to be one. She supposed the Princess would be sad to hear of his death, as everyone was, but it was nothing like the grief Alinore had felt at the loss of her own father.
She could not even bring herself to compare the two.
The lasting wound of Cressyda’s accusations about Sir Thomaso still burned as raw as the day the words had been spoken, and it had taken a lot for Alinore to bring herself to come here at all.
‘As you can see, I’m well aware that the King has passed,’ Cressyda added, gesturing to her gown. ‘Did you come to my chamber just to tell me that?’
They stared at one another, the insults from their past argument clouding the distance between them. The memory of it swelled, thickening the air like smoke.
‘No,’ said Alinore, gritting her teeth. ‘I came to say that Prince Samsel will soon return as the King of Calestra.’
‘I know this!’
Cressyda spun away to the open window, but not before Alinore saw panic flare in her amber eyes. The Princess clutched at the window frame, the pale blue veins of her wrists like thin branches.
‘As King, Prince Samsel will be able to do whatever he wants,’ Alinore pressed. ‘No one will be able to stop him. Not even the Queen.’
Cressyda stood motionless at the window, the sharp jut of her shoulder blades protruding through the soft sheen of her black hair.
‘You aren’t telling me things that I don’t already know,’ she replied finally.
‘So you’re going to do something about it?’ Alinore demanded. She was beginning to regret trying to warn the Princess. If Cressyda wanted to carry on pretending that she was really Calestran royalty and all was well, then maybe she deserved what was coming.
‘Yes – no – I’m trying.’ Cressyda rubbed at her forehead.
‘Because Prince Samsel hates you,’ said Alinore, watching the Princess for some kind of reaction, some acknowledgement of the danger facing her. ‘I mean, I think he hates everyone – Prince Ottone says he’s always been that way. But he really hates you.’
A pink flush crept up Cressyda’s neck. ‘And you,’ she snapped.
‘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. Why are you 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.