‘My father was a good man,’ Alinore spat over her shoulder. ‘And he loved me. You wouldn’t understand that because no father or mother ever loved you. They gave you away – they gave you away to a bitter Queen who doesn’t love you either.’
She turned to see Cressyda trembling in the bed, tears spilling down her beautiful cheeks.
‘You’re just a doll, a plaything, a toy!’ Alinore cried, stepping out of the doorway. ‘You’re nothing more than a pet.’
Cressyda
CRESSYDA’S EYES FLUTTEREDopen to the clattering of cups and the soft shuffle of maids moving around her room. She remained still, listening. Usually, it was Alinore’s early stirring that roused her, but not now. They had not spoken since their argument five days ago, and Alinore had not returned to their shared bedchamber once in that time. The memory of their cruel, cutting words throbbed painfully in Cressyda’s mind, each recollection laced with regret. She had said some awful things. They both had. But it was the image of Alinore’s face – contorted in anger as she spat out the most venomous thing she could think of – that lingered the most: ‘You’re nothing more than a pet.’ The words echoed, sharp and relentless. Every time Cressyda considered seeking out Alinore to apologize, to make things right, the raw sting of those words held her back.
‘Did you hear a footman say he saw a dragon this morning?’ hissed one maid to the other as they moved about the room. ‘Apparently he was walking up to the castle gates and he swore he saw itflying in the distance between the mountain peaks. He said it was like a shooting star.’
The other maid gave a ‘hmm’ noise.
‘You ever seen a dragon back home?’
There was a pause.
‘A few times from afar. ’Tis just part of life in the mountains.’
Goosebumps prickled Cressyda’s skin. Some of the servants at Syonno Castle were Mountain folk and their rapid, breathy accents always made her feel strange.
‘Fearsome creatures, aren’t they?’ replied the other maid. ‘Bet you were glad when you turned nineteen winters and couldn’t get chosen for the Maiden Sacrifice.’
‘Yes, I were spared, but a girl in my village weren’t.’
‘Oh. Sorry.’
They fell silent and finished setting the room in order. Just as they were about to leave, the maid with Mountain blood asked, ‘Should we wake her, do you think?’
‘No,’ replied the other. ‘The Pet likes her beauty sleep.’
They both giggled and left the room.
The Pet.
Every time Cressyda heard it, it was like jabbing an open wound.
She climbed out of bed, ignoring a breakfast tray laid on a side-table despite the rumble of her stomach. Tugging on a dressing gown, she surveyed the outfit the maids had prepared: a peach gown with trailing sleeves. The Queen had a new mania for wide, hooped sleeves, which she said made her hands appear smaller. Cressyda thought they were wildly impractical, but she would not ignore the Queen’s wishes, no matter what Alinore said. Her friend did not understand that both of their livelihoods depended on keeping Queen Flavria’s good grace.
Footsteps sounded in the corridor and Cressyda looked up in surprise. For one wonderful, hopeful moment, she thought it might be Alinore, returning to be reconciled. A smile twitched at the corners of her mouth. But when the door to her bedchamber opened, a dark-haired figure appeared.
‘Good morning, Little Pet.’
Cressyda frowned. ‘Samsel?’
His gaze swept the room, then he turned and shut the door behind him. It closed with a click. ‘I thought I’d pay you a visit this morning,’ he said. ‘I’ve never been inside here before.’ He was dressed in a sparkling white shirt beneath a golden doublet that accentuated his tall, slender frame.
‘My bedchamber?’ said Cressyda. She was aware that she was wearing just her dressing gown with only a chemise underneath. She folded her arms.
‘Soon this room will belong to me,’ he continued. ‘All of the castle will be mine. The whole kingdom, in fact.’
‘Yes,’ replied Cressyda carefully, trying to guess where the thread of the conversation was heading. ‘You are King Borto’s heir.’ She glanced behind him at the closed door.
‘And my father’s not long for this realm, wouldn’t you agree?’
Cressyda sucked in her breath in surprise.
It was true that King Borto had been unwell lately and there were whisperings among courtiers about his recent odd behaviour. Master Jakespurcia was often in the King’s chambers, administering spells and elixirs, but the old Master was not in good health himself and there were rumours that, despite everyone’s best efforts, the King was not getting better.
