At Calestran celebrations the eligible male courtiers dutifully danced with Cressyda every now and then, but she was generally overlooked. No one was quite sure where she fitted into the hierarchy of the court, and besides, Queen Flavria made it clear with her tuts and frowns that she preferred to keep her pet by her side. Though many an admiring glance was cast Cressyda’s way, few dared get too close.
‘You flatter me, Prince Mariso. I’m the one honoured by your request.’
This seemed to please him. He offered her his arm and led her from the royal dais on to the floor of the Great Hall.
Cressyda’s palm tingled where it rested on Prince Mariso’s sleeve. She was aware of the Queen’s disapproving gaze cast in their direction, but she did not care. Lately, it seemed that she kept upsetting her mother. She was too tall, too big, too healthy.
‘The Arcing Dragon Waltz,’ announced the caller.
‘This is my favourite dance,’ said Cressyda.
The music started and Prince Mariso wrapped his hands around her waist, lifting her into the first steps. They were a well-matched couple. Cressyda could feel all eyes in the room drawn to them as they stepped and spun. She smiled to herself and made her actionsbigger and bolder, enjoying the rhythm of the music and the giddy feeling of twirling across the floor. She had always enjoyed dancing – it made her feel strong.
‘You’re very accomplished, Princess,’ said Prince Mariso as they slowed to the end of the waltz. ‘Your brother was right.’
‘Ottone said I was a good dancer?’ Cressyda replied in surprise. Ottone did not enjoy dancing and generally tried to avoid it.
‘No, I meant—’ Prince Mariso shook his head. ‘Never mind. Shall we get a drink?’ He placed his hand on Cressyda’s back and propelled her away from the other dancers who were readying themselves for the Spring Jig.
‘I suppose so,’ murmured Cressyda, looking longingly over her shoulder.
She grasped the goblet of sweet wine Prince Mariso pushed into her hands and sipped it as he ushered her to one of the doorways.
‘Let’s go for a walk,’ he said, turning her down a passageway.
They passed couples sauntering together arm in arm, tipsy and giggling, and other groups, pressed up against the walls, moaning in tight embraces. Cressyda sensed that the celebration was reaching the point in the evening where things began to tip into raucousness. The wine barrels had been emptied and replaced several times and the courtiers were growing louder and cruder. Cressyda had been vaguely taught the ways of lovers by the Queen in a few off-hand comments after her moon blood began, but, like most girls at court, she had picked up the majority of what she knew from gossip. She had learnt that it was important to be careful – enough girls had vanished from Syonno Castle after dalliances to make that clear – but Cressyda still thought it all seemed quite thrilling.
‘I’m sure you’ve noticed me watching you,’ said Prince Mariso, guiding her further down the passageway. ‘You’re quite spectacular.’
Cressyda felt her cheeks glowing again. She gazed up at his neat, handsome profile, all soft lines and dimpled curves.
‘There’re a few beauties at the Ferente court, of course, but none that surpass you. Whoever conjures your enhancements is very skilled.’
Cressyda faltered. They were walking down one of the far corridors off the Great Hall; a large window beside them looked out on to the western courtyard.
‘Have I offended you, Princess?’
Through the window, Cressyda could see drunken figures lurching around the star-shaped courtyard together.
‘Princess, you have the most enhancements I’ve ever seen, but you carry them well.’ His lips were bent up at one side, almost as if he was laughing at her. ‘And you do have a certain elegance that’s all your own too, I suppose.’
Cressyda felt something sink in her chest. ‘I’d like to leave,’ she said.
‘There’s no rush.’
Prince Mariso rested his hand against the window above her head and slowly leant towards her. She felt the press of his chest against her breast, pinning her in place.
‘I should call you Princess, shouldn’t I?’ he said. His breath smelt like sweet wine and his front teeth were stained cherry-red. ‘Although I think I’ve heard of another name … Because you’re not really a princess, are you?’
Cressyda stepped to the side, but Prince Mariso raised his other hand and pushed her swiftly and firmly back. She gasped.
‘The Prince said you would play coy.’
This time Cressyda knew he was not referring to Ottone. She tried to brush his hand away, but his fingers were squeezing into her waist. He was surprisingly strong.
‘You’re a strange thing,’ he murmured, bending further over her, his blue eyes glittering in the dimness. ‘Beautiful and strange.’
Suddenly his lips were crushed against her own, large and slick. It happened so quickly she was stunned to stillness. Her breath caught, panic blazing through her. One of his hands pulled at her bodice, nails clawing at the soft flesh of her breast. The other hand gripped her neck, thumb pressing into her throat. The shock of it left her rigid, her mind scrambling to understand, to move, to force him away. His weight pressed forward, smothering.
