Their father had seemed genuinely pleased to see them. Inés could not have told him about her unorthodox visit to the prison.
That visit haunted Leonor. She found herself chasing away the mental image of Lord Rodrigo in that narrow cell far too often. Doubtless, she couldn’t stop thinking about him because conditions in the prison were so appalling. It was a place of evil, fit only for the devil. She was ashamed her father sanctioned it.
And there was that other matter. Lord Rodrigo kissed my hand. The first foreigner she’d ever spoken to. If her father found that out, he’d have Count Rodrigo torn apart.
The Sultan had taken pains to describe the alabaster fountain in the central court of the Princesses’ new tower. He told his daughters that he’d ordered poems to be inscribed in tiles on the tower walls and that delicate arabesques adorned the arches and door frames. As Leonor watched her father’s smiling face, as she listened to him describing what he’d planned for them, her anger for the years of neglect began to fade.
And her fears for her future? Hope was starting to flower. They weren’t to languish in Salobreña until the end of time. Finally, she and her sisters were going to become part of their father’s court. Life could change. She even dared to hope that her father might learn to be less intransigent in his dealings with his enemies.
So, here they were, riding towards the Alhambra Palace with a full escort of household knights ahead and behind them. Nothing as exciting had happened in years. True, there wasn’t much to see on this stretch of road. The landscape was bleached by the sun. Scorched weeds lined the route and there were few signs of habitation. Still, Leonor wasn’t going to allow that to lower her mood.
Leaning forward, she patted Snowstorm’s neck. As her name implied, Snowstorm was the palest of greys. Almost white, she was an exact match to her sisters’ horses. Silver bells were attached to the braids in the mares’ manes, and a gentle tinkling accompanied their every step. As their party covered the miles, the dry air was filled with faint, otherworldly music.
There were restrictions on this ride to her new life. A palace eunuch was riding at Leonor’s side. Ostensibly, he was there to hold a sunshade over her head. The sunshade didn’t do much. She knew the eunuch was really there to keep her in line. For once, she didn’t care.
It was stifling beneath her veil and she didn’t care about that either. Not today, when she was out and about in her father’s realm. Naturally, she wouldn’t be human if she didn’t resent having to look at everything through a haze of fine silk. However, today, none of that mattered. Her father had come for them. He had realised that she and her sisters had grown up and they were about to start afresh in Granada.
The previous night the royal party had taken shelter in one of her father’s hunting lodges. That had been exciting too, it was the first time that the Princesses remembered sleeping anywhere except in their apartments in Salobreña Castle.
The horses slowed. There was a disturbance up ahead, which was odd. Leonor hadn’t expected delays on this, the final leg of their journey. The King had sent heralds out in advance of their departure and his subjects had been ordered—on pain of death, apparently—to remain indoors as the royal party rode past. No one should be abroad to slow them down.
Privately, Leonor suspected that the real reason her father’s subjects had been told to stay indoors was because Sultan Tariq didn’t want anyone to see his daughters. Which was ridiculous. We are wearing veils, and one veiled woman looks very much like another. No one would see as much as an eyelash.
None the less, Leonor prayed that her father’s people had obeyed their orders. Whilst she hadn’t come up against the Sultan’s temper personally, there were tales that froze the marrow in her bones. Imprisonment—well, she’d seen that for herself—but she’d also heard that whippings and starvation were commonplace. She’d even heard whispers about summary executions.
Her saddle creaked as she peered ahead. Her father’s personal knights were bunched up in a knot. There was a lot of shouting. She clutched her reins and prayed that nothing dreadful was about to happen. Her father had made it clear that delays wouldn’t be tolerated. Whilst he had been kind to her and her sisters, Leonor couldn’t dismiss the rumours about his bloodcurdling rages.
What would happen if they stumbled across a stray peasant who hadn’t heard the orders to stay indoors? Leonor’s brow knotted. Her optimistic mood faded, like a flower that had stood too long in the searing sun. She held Snowstorm at a standstill under the sunshade so helpfully held over her and told herself firmly that they would be on their way soon.
An arm’s length away, Alba and Constanza sat on their grey mares amid a froth of full skirts and rippling veils. Like Leonor, they were wearing circlets starred with gemstones; like her, their wrists were adorned with heavy gold bracelets.
Snowstorm tossed her head and the light chime of bells shimmered about them.
Alba guided her horse closer. ‘I didn’t think this journey would take so long,’ she murmured. ‘Are you as stiff as I am?’
‘I’m a little sore, but I don’t care. Father has come for us and we shall live in a tower and look out across the mountains. We shall have our own household.’ Leonor tried to sound bright, even though she had a terrible feeling that something awful was about to happen. Could Alba hear the worry in her voice?
‘Leonor.’ Alba switched quietly to Spanish, in the way the sisters did when they wanted to converse privately. Of all the royal servants, only Inés spoke Spanish. ‘Life in the Alhambra might not be quite as you expect.’
Behind her veil, Leonor’s eyes went wide. She lowered her voice to a whisper. ‘You also doubt Father?’
‘I suspect he only came for us because Inés wrote to him after you visited the prison.’
Leonor stiffened her spine. She’d told her sisters what she had done and they had been so shocked, she regretted mentioning it. It seemed all she had achieved was to worry them. ‘Alba, I won’t apologise. I wanted to know about Mamá.’
Alba leaned in. ‘I don’t blame you. I am as curious about her as you.’ She gave a small sigh. ‘Inés, on the other hand, was frantic.’
Leonor didn’t need reminding. ‘I know, and for that I am deeply sorry.’
‘I’m pretty certain she told Father we’d been watching the Spanish captives when their ship arrived at the quayside.’
Leonor’s heart sank. ‘You don’t think she mentioned my visit to the prison?’
‘I doubt it, Father has shown no signs of anger.’
‘I pray you are right.’
‘Be careful, Leonor. It’s my belief Father came to fetch us so that he could keep an even closer eye on us. Life in the palace might not be the paradise you are hoping for.’
Leonor gripped her reins, it wasn’t pleasant having Alba echo her fears. Yes, the Sultan had come to escort his daughters to the palace. The question was, what would happen after that?
The horses walked on a few paces. Craning her neck, Leonor saw what was holding them up. The Sultan’s personal guard clustered around him. Nearby, a line of prisoners was lying face down in a dried-up gully by the side of the road.
Oh, no!
