ALINORE PLACED ONEhand on the latch of the door. Then she snatched it away again.
A maid appeared at the other end of the corridor, carrying a basket of washing, humming a ditty under her breath. She paused to give the briefest dip of a curtsey, before bustling past, disappearing around the next corner. Most of the servants barely acknowledged Alinore these days.
Drawing in a deep breath, Alinore raised her hand once more and knocked on the door. She waited a beat; then she pushed it open, charging into the bedchamber.
‘Alinore!’ came a soft, shocked voice.
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.
Alinore’s gaze flicked to the pallet under the window, its sheetsstripped off, the mattress bare. It was not so long ago that this was her bedchamber too.
‘Andwhat’ve you done to your hair?’ Cressyda added, peering closer.
Alinore jutted out her chin. The coarse, jagged ends of her dark hair stuck out around her ears and an uneven fringe crossed her forehead.
‘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 supposedthe 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 hereallyhates you.’
A pink flush crept up Cressyda’s neck. ‘Andyou,’ she snapped.
