The Knight’s Forbidden Princess. Carol Townend

      Madre mía, what was he doing? Clearly the shock of Diego’s death was taking its toll. Sultan Tariq’s troops had killed his brother; Inigo was wounded; a ransom was being demanded for their safe release and here he was fantasising about three princesses who might not even exist.

      Enrique tugged on the chain, causing Inigo to stumble. ‘Don’t stop, Rodrigo, I was enjoying that. You’d got to the Princesses’ skin.’

      Rodrigo ground his teeth together and managed—just—not to hit him.

       Chapter Two

      Entirely focused on the knight in the red tunic as he helped his companion towards the square, Leonor didn’t hear the pavilion door open.

      ‘Princess Leonor!’ Inés stood in the door arch, her hands on her hips. ‘My lady, what are you doing?’

      Veiled in the same way as the two younger Princesses, Inés was known to most in Salobreña by the Moorish name of Kadiga. It was a name given to her by the Sultan when she had first arrived in the palace with the Princesses’ mother. However, shortly after their mother’s death, Inés had told the sisters that she much preferred her old Spanish name. Consequently, whenever they were in the privacy of their apartments, they called their duenna Inés.

      Leonor rose from the cushions and faced her. ‘How do you do that?’

      ‘Do what, my lady?’

      ‘You always know which of us is which. It doesn’t seem to make any difference whether we are veiled or not. How do you tell us apart?’

      Leonor and her sisters were triplets and were as like as peas in a pod. The three of them had hair that was long and black, with the sheen and texture of silk. They had dark lustrous eyes, prettily shaped mouths and teeth as white as pearls. The only difference between them was a slight variation in height. Leonor was the tallest, then came Alba, and finally the youngest, Constanza. Aside from their height, see one Princess and you’ve seen them all.

      Inés had always been the only person in the castle who could tell them apart. That she could do so even when she was looking at them from behind was astonishing.

      ‘You are all equally beautiful, that is sure,’ Inés said. ‘However, you are my girls and I love you, that is how I can tell you apart.’ She gestured at Leonor’s exposed face. ‘Princess Zaida, you will not distract me. Why is your veil pushed back?’

      Leonor grimaced. By using Leonor’s Moorish name instead of her Spanish one, her duenna was reminding her, not very subtly, that it wasn’t wise to go against Sultan Tariq’s orders. Guiltily aware that Inés might suffer for Leonor’s disobedience, and that the poor woman must live in fear of what would happen to her should the Princesses rebel in earnest, Leonor bit her lip. ‘My apologies, Inés, but I am no longer a child.’

      ‘That is open to question.’ Inés tipped her head to one side and hardened her voice. ‘What isn’t open to question is that you have removed your veil. You cannot have forgotten the Sultan’s command that you remain veiled when you leave your apartments, and that includes when you are in this pavilion.’

      ‘Have pity, Inés, no one comes here and the port is like a furnace. Even the palm trees are melting. I’m suffocating.’

      ‘That is irrelevant. You are a Nasrid princess and you must obey your father.’

      ‘Father might try wearing a veil in this heat and see how he likes it,’ Leonor muttered.

      ‘I beg your pardon?’

      Leonor heard the fear in her duenna’s voice and the old guilt stirred—the idea that their faithful duenna might have to suffer their father’s wrath was simply unbearable. With a resigned sigh, she caught the edge of her veil and drew it back over her face.

      The veil settled. Perspiration immediately prickled on her brow, even though her veil was light as gossamer.

      ‘Thank you, Leonor.’ Inés drew closer, her skirts dragging on the floor tiles. She touched Leonor’s arm and her voice warmed, becoming almost conspiratorial. ‘What were you looking at, my dear?’

      ‘A galley has docked. We were watching the captives come ashore.’

      ‘Captives?’

      ‘We think they are Spanish knights,’ Alba said. ‘They must have been captured in the fighting.’

      Inés went to kneel on the cushions and peered out the window. Leonor knew she’d see nothing, as the prisoners would have reached the square by now. Where were they being taken? The castle dungeons? Where else might they go—was there a prison in the town?

      The Princesses were rarely allowed out. Though they’d lived in Salobreña Castle for years, they knew nothing about the actual town. Leonor couldn’t help but wish that, whatever happened to those Spanish knights, the one in crimson would be able to care for his friend.

      ‘The quay is empty.’ Inés jerked the shutter closed and the pavilion dimmed. ‘I have to say I doubt the men you saw were truly Spanish knights.’

      Constanza let out a soft sigh. ‘They were most handsome, Inés,’ she murmured.

      Constanza sounded bright, almost happy. With a jolt, Leonor realised that her sister hadn’t sounded half so animated in, well, in months. Clearly, Leonor wasn’t the only one to feel shut in. And through her filmy veil she would swear she could see Constanza blushing. Constanza, of all people, blushing!

      Inés made a clucking sound and shooed them towards the door. ‘Handsome—pah!’

      Leonor caught her duenna’s hand. ‘Inés, where are those men being taken? Will they be put in the dungeon?’

      ‘My lady, the whereabouts of a few Spanish captives is not your concern.’

      The glass beads on Constanza’s veil sparkled in the light, she was shaking her head. ‘How can you say that? Inés, you are Spanish by birth. Our mother was Spanish. Those men might be relatives.’

      Inés froze. ‘My lady, they are not relatives.’

      ‘They could be, couldn’t they?’ Constanza continued.

      Leonor blinked. Of the three Princesses, Constanza was the most biddable, the quietest one. Indeed, apart from her lute-playing, she was so quiet that most of the time you would hardly know she was there. It was good to hear some life in her voice. Good to think that the Spanish captives had brought a blush to her cheeks. It was almost as though her youngest sister had suddenly woken up.

      Leonor turned to their duenna. ‘Inés, you must understand, seeing those men has made us curious. You came to Al-Andalus with Mamá, you must remember what life was like before you entered our father’s kingdom.’

      ‘I remember nothing.’ Inés frowned. ‘And even if I did, the Queen was a Spanish noblewoman, that is all I am permitted to tell you.’

      ‘Her name was Juana. You did tell us that,’ Leonor said thoughtfully. Seeing those knights had made her realise that her mother’s background needn’t be shrouded in mystery. In the world beyond her father’s kingdom, there must be many people who knew her mother’s history. ‘Lady Juana. And I think you are forgetting something else. We were small at the time, but I remember it well.’

      ‘Oh?’

      ‘You said that Lady Juana was betrothed before she fell captive to Father.’

      Inés took a hasty step backward. ‘I did not. I wouldn’t dream of being so indiscreet.’

      ‘You told us Mamá was betrothed, I remember it distinctly.’ Leonor nodded towards the shuttered window. ‘Don’t be afraid, I won’t carry tales to Father. But you must see I am hungry to learn all I can about Mamá. What happened to the nobleman to whom she was betrothed?