Stone Blind(29)

And if – as Andromeda grew into a woman – more young men stared a little longer at her, they still could not hide their admiration for her mother. Cassiope thought of her own mother – still handsome even now – and felt relief, even as she took a second darting look back at the water to check her jawline was as flawless as ever. Her perfection must appear – as it always had – to be effortlessly, divinely bestowed.

*

Andromeda loved her parents, and was proud to be their daughter. She would never have admitted that she found her mother’s obsession with beauty – her own and Andromeda’s – to be a burden. If it meant that her mother spent more time indoors, avoiding the harsh light outside, that only made her like any other woman of status in Ethiopia. And Andromeda was realistic. Her friends were always saying that every man looked at a girl’s mother to see who she would become. No man looked at Cassiope – even now her daughter was of marriageable age – without holding his breath for a moment. Andromeda’s whole future was brighter because of this: her friends never passed an opportunity to mention it. So she was at a loss to explain how she found herself betrothed to her uncle Phineus when she could surely have had any Ethiopian prince she chose.

Why did other suitors not come beating down her father’s doors in their thousands? She tried not to feel hurt and angry. But the only important things anyone said in the palace were whispered in dark rooms to which she was not invited. Whenever she discussed matters with friends her own age, or with the slave-women who feigned ignorance, she found herself growing more aggrieved rather than less. When she could bear it no longer, she waited until there were no guests staying in the palace and cornered her parents while they were eating.

‘Papa.’ She knew she should at least pretend that her father made the decisions. ‘I need to ask you a question.’

‘Yes, my dear.’ Her father was lounging back on his couch, a fat cushion beneath his elbow. Her mother sat on the couch beside him, from where the torches were best able to cast shadows of her elegant profile onto the ground.

‘Why do I have to marry Uncle Phineus?’

The slave who was putting plates down onto the table between them froze – just for a moment – before continuing with his task, eyes fixed on the food.

‘Andromeda!’ said her mother. ‘What kind of question is that to ask of a king? Why must you marry the king’s brother? Who else should do it? Would you see some girl from another family raised up over us?’

‘I don’t think that would happen, Mother.’ Andromeda knew her mother tended to start any dispute from quite a high pitch so she did not raise her voice in return. ‘I think that Father is loved and respected by all Ethiopians, far more than his brother could ever be.’ She took a sneaking pleasure in seeing her mother’s eyes flicker with anxiety, having not anticipated this direction of attack. And now her father was preening himself, suddenly looking as plump as the cushion he was resting on.

‘Of course that’s true,’ he replied. ‘But your mother and I have always believed you can never be too careful. If something were to happen to me—’ He broke off to make the sign warding off any cruel spirits who might be listening. ‘I will be succeeded by Phineus. So you and your mother would be better off if you were married to him. We cannot afford for there to be a second branch to the royal family.’

Cassiope nodded. ‘Phineus could marry some brat and produce five sons. Your father is looking after our interests. You would do well to remember that.’

‘I’m hardly likely to forget it,’ Andromeda replied. ‘I just don’t understand why I have to give up all hope of happiness.’

‘Are you being a bit overwrought, my dear?’ asked her father. ‘You’re very fond of your uncle, you have been since you were small.’

‘As an uncle, yes,’ she said. ‘As a husband, I would prefer someone closer to my own age, and further from yours.’

‘Well, I’m afraid we don’t always get what we want,’ Cassiope snapped.

‘You do,’ her daughter replied.

‘What did you say?’

Andromeda knew the fight was lost but she wasn’t prepared to let her parents pretend they weren’t ignoring her desires. ‘I said, “You do.” Because you do. Father never disagrees with you about anything. He does everything he can to keep you happy. So do I.’ She waved her arm wide. ‘So does everyone. Everyone wants you to have exactly what you want because otherwise you make our lives a misery. We all go along with it. Until now. Because I don’t want to marry a man as old as my father – who even looks like my father – to make sure you don’t have to worry about being thrown out of a palace when you’re old. If you’re so worried about who Phineus marries, you marry him.’

She jumped up from her couch and as her weight pushed it back, its curved wooden feet screeched against the stone floor. ‘I want suitors,’ she said. ‘I want men to come here and vie for my hand.’ She was aware that she sounded childish and at the same time she wasn’t sorry. She was barely past childhood, and her uncle was old. None of their explanations for this betrothal would change that.

*

Cassiope knew her authority was waning: her daughter would never have dared speak to her in this way before. She would talk to her husband about Phineus tomorrow, hurry the wedding along before Andromeda could persuade him to reconsider. She would not see her status diminish more than it had to. She was leaving nothing to chance: what if Cepheus died before her? What if he died soon? She would never be one of those old women sitting by the side of a dirt track, begging for scraps from travellers. Never. And now she knew she could not trust Andromeda to put her mother’s needs first.