Distracted by the outburst, Cressyda did not see the shadow at first.
It took a long moment for it to catch her attention, lingering at the edge of her vision, waiting to press upon her awareness.
Then she turned her head and sucked in her breath.
A gnarled, hunched creature hung from the lip of the balcony.
The hairs on the back of Cressyda’s neck prickled and her forehead throbbed.
The more she stared at it, the more the shadow’s grotesque shape grew sharper. It was like one of the stone gargoyles from Syonno Castle’s battlements come to life. A wide, snubbed muzzle and waxen, blotchy skin stretched over jutting limbs.
Greetings, Princess.
Before Cressyda could stop herself, she screamed.
Chaos erupted on the balcony. Courtiers gasped and staggered back in shock. The King covered his ears, groaning, and the guards drew their swords.
The creature bared its teeth in a delighted grin, before swinging over the edge of the balcony and vanishing into the crowd below.
‘What’s happened? What is it?’ people cried.
But Cressyda could not reply.
Ottone rushed up beside her. ‘The Princess seems unwell,’ he announced. ‘I’ll stand with her in the shade until the end of the ceremony.’
‘Yes, take her away!’ snapped the Queen. ‘We must stop this fuss.’
Cressyda dragged her eyes from the edge of the balcony where the creature had been hanging moments before. She registered the commotion around her in alarm: the King rocking back on his heels moaning; the Queen stroking her husband’s back; and the courtiers looking on in concern.
Ottone grasped her elbow and pulled her away. They swept past the gathered royal household and into the cool, dark rooms at the back of the tower. The uproar of the balcony receded as they charged down a flight of stone steps and entered a small, quiet chamber. An attendant appeared with water and Ottone thanked him, before helping Cressyda into an armchair.
‘What’s going on?’ he asked.
She looked up into her brother’s comforting, familiar face. His curly dark hair slicked back, his brown eyes full of unease. He was the only person besides Alinore in Syonno Castle who truly felt like her family.
‘Is it what Samsel said in the carriage?’ he persisted. ‘Because there’s no shame in—’
‘But it’s not true!’
She felt sick. Whenever she was reminded of Prince Mariso pressing himself against her in the dark passageway, forcing his lips over her mouth, she felt nauseous. She had not told anyone about it. Not even Alinore.
‘He was … He tried to …’
‘What?’ asked Ottone. ‘Did something happen?’
Cressyda dropped her face into her hands. ‘I don’t want to talk about it. He’s gone now.’
Prince Mariso had departed Syonno Castle at the beginning of the last moon, returning to the Ferente court. After the night of the Maiden Sacrifice, Cressyda had kept her distance from him. She had often felt his gaze on her during the mingling of the royal households, but she never offered more than a brief curtsey and a murmured ‘Your Highness’. When he had finally left, she had felt nothing but relief.
Ottone shifted from one foot to the other. ‘Mariso might be a prince but he’s the fourth-born and his eldest brother has already produced an heir. He’s basically pointless. There are rumours about him – about him, Samsel and some Ferente courtiers.’ Ottone started pacing back and forth, his words coming clipped and fast. ‘I should’ve guessed something was wrong. You’ve been so quiet. What happened? You can tell me.’
Cressyda sighed and dropped her hands into her lap. ‘He thought I might be an easy conquest, but he was wrong. And I suppose …’ She trailed off.
This was the painful part.
‘… he knew he could get away with it.’
Ottone’s expression darkened. ‘How dare he. You’re the Princess of Calestra!’
