Cressyda shook her head, but she looked uncertain. ‘Don’t worry, I’m here.’
Alinore felt a hand reach out and squeeze her arm.
They stopped before large, carved double doors.
‘Lady Alinore, House of Mattinias,’ called out an attendant.
The doors opened and Alinore followed the guards inside. She had not been in the King’s chambers before and she looked around at the swathes of velvet adorning the walls, the gold-inlaid ceiling and the cluster of hunting dogs asleep before the fire. While she quickly dropped into as conventional a curtsey as she could manage, Alinore saw with relief that the Queen was in attendance: a familiar presence standing beside her husband. Both of them were dressed in matching silver robes for the Last Snow Feast.
‘Peace be with Your Majesty, King Borto Donolaino of Calestra,’said Alinore, her voice high and strained. ‘And peace be with Your Majesty, Queen Flavria Donolaino of Calestra.’
Behind her, Alinore heard the soft tap of Cressyda’s shoes close to her side.
The King cleared his throat. ‘Lady Alinore …’ he began. He paused, scratched his beard and turned to his wife.
A look Alinore did not understand passed between them.
‘Lady Alinore, we must speak with you,’ said the Queen instead. She was dazzling as always, with crystal droplets strung through her black hair and a face impossibly fresh and dewy. ‘I’m afraid we’ve had some terrible news.’
Alinore noticed the downcast expression of King Borto and fear crept into her chest.
‘A message arrived this morning from Lord Lassiaro …’ the Queen continued.
Father.This was about her father.
‘… Lord Lassiaro has received word that there have been a number of fatalities in his army fighting the Journian rebels,’ said the Queen, her voice echoing around the chamber. ‘Your father has been killed.’
Alinore blinked.
Behind her, she heard Cressyda gasp.
‘His battalion was mistaken for Proassians and the Journian rebels took them by surprise.’
Alinore stood, swaying on her feet. It couldn’t be true. Her father would come back. Of course he would. He always came back.
‘Sir Thomaso died in honour, serving his country,’ said King Borto. ‘He was a great man.’
Was a great man.Was.
‘We are truly sorry for your loss, Lady Alinore.’
Alinore was drifting out of herself, watching the scene unfold from above. It did not feel real. She had received a letter from her father two moons ago, its contents brisk and cheerful, as usual. He could not be gone. The King must be mistaken.
‘You’ll need to take time to come to terms with such a tragedy,’ said the Queen. Then she quickly added, ‘But we must also make some arrangements as to your new circumstances.’
Alinore felt the sting of salt on her lips and realized she was crying.
‘Lady Alinore?’
Alinore’s head snapped up. ‘Yes, Your Majesty?’ she managed.
‘I said there are things we must discuss.’
Alinore stared back at the Queen blankly.
‘The villa in Galasque has already been sold. As have most of your father’s possessions. There’s a living female cousin in the Beautomonte region. A farmer, I believe. Have you ever met?’
‘My home’s gone?’ Alinore whispered.
