For the Most Beautiful by Emily Hauser

on her brothers’ safe homecoming. The air before me seemed to shimmer in the heat-haze, and it was a few moments before I found her. My hands faltered mid-clap as I caught sight of her under the royal canopy and I saw the expression on her face. My smile died before it had formed.
    Cassandra looked as if she were being subjected to the most exquisite torture. Her eyes were stretched wide in horror, her fingers clenching and unclenching, her body heaving with bone-racking pain.
    â€˜Cassandra!’ I shouted, terrified. I tore away from the battlements and pushed my way through the crowd of nobles until I reached the royal canopy, rushing over to her side and taking her stiff white hand in mine.
    Troilus was staring at her with his mouth slightly open. Aeneas and Deiphobus were frowning.
    â€˜Cassandra, what is wrong?’ I asked. ‘What’s happened?’
    She could not speak. She was gurgling, spluttering, choking.
    I whirled around to summon one of the slaves for help. ‘Please – someone – anyone – we need help for the Princess Cassandra! Some water, at least! Quickly!’
    But my words were drowned by an ear-splitting scream.
    â€˜No! No!
Noooooo!
’
    I stopped still in shock.
    The sound was coming from Cassandra’s mouth, but it sounded unearthly, like the shrieks of the Harpies: foul monsters with the bodies of eagles and the grotesque, twisted faces of women. Her whole body twisted as she let out repeated, agonizing screams as she gestured towards the parapet at the edge of the tower, the beached ship and the figures moving on the shore.
    I stood transfixed, horror-struck, my fear mirrored upon the faces all around me. I had no idea what to do or how to act, except to listen to that awful, piercing voice, which was not her voice at all.
    â€˜Cassandra …’ I faltered.
    â€˜Troy will fall!’ she screamed, her beautiful red hair blazing over her shoulders, like flames, as she shook her head wildly from side to side. ‘I see fire – burning – people screaming – dying—’
    The nobles near her were backing away, muttering and glancing over their shoulders.
    King Priam and Queen Hecuba were like statues sculpted from marble as they stared at their daughter.
    â€˜The prize that is not theirs will be our ruin,’ Cassandra continued piercingly, tears leaking from the edges of her eyes. Then, without warning, she stood up straight and pointed towards the sea, her hair fluttering down her back, her eyes wide. ‘Turn back! Take her back! The prize of Troy that is not Troy’s shall be its ornament and its ruin! Troy will burn – burn—’
    Her hand wavered like a leaf in a breeze, and then, slowly, gracefully, her legs folded beneath her and she fell to the ground. I tried to catch her, but it was like trying to lift a pine tree fallen in a storm.
    â€˜Cassandra!’ I shouted, shaking her, but she was as still as death. ‘Cassandra – wake
up
!’
    She did not move.
    I covered Cassandra’s limp, faint body with her veil and summoned a few young slave-boys to pick her up and carry her further into the shade of the canopy. I followed them, fanning her face, watching her eyelids for any signs of consciousness.
Let her be alive. Please, Apulunas, let her be alive.
    I knelt beside her, as they laid her gently on the ground, and covered her forehead with my hand. It was blazing hot and covered with sweat. Thank the gods, it was not cold in death. I let out a sigh of relief and bent down to stroke the damp hair from her face.
    â€˜Cassandra,’ I whispered in her ear, as if I were calming a frightened horse. I took a cushion from one of the nearby stools and set it beneath her head. ‘Hush, it’s all right, Cassandra. I’m here. Everything will be all right now.’ I picked up a goblet that one of the slaves had brought, and tried to pour water between her parched lips.
    There was a