LITMIR.BIZ

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Inés shook her head. ‘No, you do not. It is no longer your heritage. My lady, I regret having told you anything, and I shall say no more.’

      Leonor clasped her hands in front of her. ‘Just our mother’s full name, Inés, that is all that I ask. Our memories of Mamá are so meagre. We are her daughters, surely you can tell us where she came from? She was Lady Juana of...?’

      Putting up her hand in a gesture of rejection, Inés turned sharply away. ‘You are the Sultan’s daughters and I have already told you far more than is wise. Come, we must return to your apartments in the keep. Before you know it, it will be time for the evening meal. Alba, it’s your favourite, spiced fish with rice.’

      ‘Inés, please.’

      Inés stiffened her spine and Leonor understood her pleading was in vain. Leonor was no longer talking to Inés, her beloved duenna, she was talking to Kadiga, Sultan Tariq’s faithful servant. And Kadiga was displeased.

      ‘Princess Zaida,’ Kadiga said, in her formal voice. ‘This conversation is unseemly, and if you continue in this vein, I shall be forced to conclude that you need disciplining. Your father, the Sultan, will need to be told. He will be gravely disappointed. For your sisters’ sake, if not your own, you must put your mother’s ancestry out of your mind. Such curiosity is not healthy—for anyone.’

      * * *

      Healthy or not, Princess Leonor’s curiosity could not be curbed. How could she stop wondering about her own mother’s history? Impossible. However, since it was clear that further argument with Inés would achieve nothing, she curbed her tongue and followed her sisters back to the apartments. As soon as the Princesses were safely inside, they removed their veils. Here at least, where they were waited on by trusted maidservants, there was no need for concealment.

      The afternoon dragged. Leonor paced around the fountain in the central courtyard as the spray turned to gold in the sunlight. Constanza toyed with her silver lute and Alba stared moodily out of the window. The shadows lengthened. Constanza’s music filled the air and even though she knew it was forbidden, Leonor’s thoughts kept returning to her long-dead mother.

      Sight of those Spanish knights on the quayside seemed to have unleashed the rebel in her. Might those knights really be her kin?

      At the least, one of them might have heard of their mother. The disappearance of a Spanish noblewoman, even if it had been almost twenty years ago, must have caused a stir. Leonor would give anything to meet one of those men and speak to him.

      Alba and Constanza didn’t have to say a word for Leonor to know that they too were thinking the same. That was the way it had always been. They knew each other’s thoughts so well that speech was scarcely necessary.

      Evening came, and the Princesses lay on their silken cushions as their meal was spread before them. Leonor ate sparingly, barely noticing that the fish was spiced with cinnamon, or that the rice was flavoured with saffron, her mind was too busy for food. Where had those men been taken? Were they being well treated? If they were waiting to be ransomed, they would surely receive proper care. She hoped so. It was disturbing, not knowing. Had the knight in crimson secured help for his wounded friend? Were they being fed?

      When figs were placed before her, Leonor peeled one with a silver knife and ate it absently as she pondered the likelihood of that knight knowing about a Lady Juana who had been stolen away by Sultan Tariq. It must have caused a scandal at the time.

      Leonor set aside her knife with a sigh. It wasn’t likely that those men would be relatives.

      She felt oddly nervous, as though she was on the verge of making a momentous decision. Her stomach was in knots and, most curious of all, her hands were shaking.

      There must be a way to use the arrival of the Spanish knights to learn more about Mamá. This was a rare chance to talk to someone who might have heard about Lady Juana. If she let it slip by, she would never forgive herself. She had to speak to one of those prisoners.

      The image of the knight in the crimson tunic came into focus at the back of her mind. Despite his chains, he had an air of command about him.

      Mind working furiously, Leonor pushed the fruit bowl towards Alba. ‘Figs?’

      Alba shook her head. ‘I’m not hungry.’

      Leonor frowned and glanced at Constanza.

      ‘Constanza? Figs?’

      ‘No, thank you.’

      Leonor stared at her sisters, both of whom ached to know more about their mother, just as she did. She clenched her fists. She was going to speak to that Spanish knight.

      And if her father found out? Her heart thumped. She opened her mouth and swiftly shut it again. The knots in her belly were warning her that she was on her own with this. It was too dangerous to involve anyone else. If she was caught, she alone must bear the blame. Her plans must remain secret.

      She glanced towards the door arch. Inés sat in the outer chamber, keeping close to her charges, as usual. Her father’s habit of punishing servants for the Princesses’ sins meant Leonor couldn’t discuss this with Inés either.

      She toyed with her eating knife. Watched and guarded as they were, it wouldn’t be easy.

      Yet somehow, she must manage it without inflicting her father’s anger on someone else.

      Her gaze lit on a curl of manuscript next to Constanza’s lute.

      A letter! She would write the Sultan a letter.

      With luck, she’d never need to dispatch it, and the letter could be kept purely as a safeguard, in case she was caught. The Sultan’s wrath was legendary, and if Leonor was discovered to have visited the prison, she doubted he would listen to reason. He might, however, read a letter, especially one she had written before speaking to the knight. The letter would set out most clearly that she had acted alone, and it would stress her fervent wish to learn about her mother’s family. The Sultan must be made to understand she couldn’t rest until she knew more.

      ‘Inés?’

      Inés appeared in the door arch. ‘Princess Leonor?’

      Leonor smiled. ‘Please fetch another lamp. I shall need parchment, a quill and some ink.’

      Her duenna’s eyebrows rose. ‘You wish to write?’

      ‘Aye.’

      ‘Very well, my lady.’

      * * *

      Shortly after cockcrow, Leonor was waiting behind a group of soldiers as the door of the prison scraped open. It had been surprisingly easy to persuade a castle guard to escort her there. The man she had approached—Yusuf—clearly had no clue he was speaking to one of the Princesses. He’d been eager to earn a little gold and no questions had been asked. So here she was, heavily veiled and disguised in the clothing of a maidservant.

      Despite the ease of getting to the prison, Leonor was shaking from head to toe. If the Sultan found out... None the less, she had convinced herself that the letter she’d tucked into her jewel box would exonerate Yusuf from all blame.

      The soldiers in front of her were laden with sacks of bread and flasks of ale for the prisoners. Also waiting to go inside were a handful of people who undoubtedly had paid handsomely to visit the noble Spanish captives. Leonor did her best to blend in and prayed no one noticed how much she was shaking.

      Unhappily, she was the only woman and she soon realised that was enough to attract attention. Her throat was dry. This was the hardest thing she had done in her life. Not knowing what to expect, she forced herself to step into a stuffy corridor. Yusuf kept close.

      They passed through another door and entered a room filled with many prisoners. Sight of so many men crammed together turned her insides to water. The smell was appalling; it caught in the back of her throat, so sickly sweet it was hard not to gag. Death crouched in every corner. Sounds were ugly. Someone was screaming in pain. Gaunt

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