Chapter Five

       The Alhambra Palace, Granada

      It should have been paradise. Instead it was a beautiful prison.

      The alabaster fountain in the central court of the Princesses’ tower played continually. By day, the jets of water gleamed like fire; at night, the central pool had the sheen of silver. From the top of the tower, Leonor looked down into the palace gardens. She was filled with disquiet. Sparrows flitted from myrtle to orange tree and back again to the myrtles. On moonlit evenings, nightingales sang in the lemon trees. How could she be unhappy in so lovely a place?

      The Sultan lavished every luxury on his daughters. Three pairs of songbirds were brought to the Princesses’ tower. The birds twittered and fluttered in golden cages, filling the top floor with song. A few days later, peacocks appeared on the palace lawns; they paraded up and down, luminescent feathers shimmering in the sun—turquoise, green, gold. Shortly after that, the Princesses were given a pet monkey. Alba adored him, named him Hunter, and took to carrying him on her shoulder.

      A step away from the Princesses’ tower, there was even a Romanesque bathhouse. Maidservants stood under gorgeously tiled arches, linens in hand, silently waiting on the sisters’ every whim. Light filtered through fairy-tale fretwork, and the surface of the bathing pool danced and sparkled with borrowed life. There were hot rooms, and cold rooms, and a restroom for the Princesses to lie in after they had bathed. Long divans were built along the tiled walls of the restroom, and they overflowed with cushions. The silent maidservants brought iced juices, grapes, sweetmeats...

      Paradise? Leonor was afraid that a snake lurked at its heart.

      Her thoughts were dark. She no longer trusted her father. The look on his face when he’d confronted Lord Rodrigo had been so ugly. If she hadn’t intervened, her father would have butchered him there and then.

      Tucked away in Salobreña all these years, Leonor had no real grasp of the King’s character. Unfortunately, she was starting to know him. His moodiness was chilling. One moment he was all benevolence, showering his daughters with gifts, and the next he behaved like a tyrant. It was wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong.

      It was also wrong that Leonor spent so much time worrying about the fate of the three Spanish knights. If her father could read her thoughts, he’d fly into a frenzy. She told herself that mind-reading was impossible and was careful to guard her tongue, particularly in front of Inés. It wasn’t that she feared for herself or her sisters, what she feared was drawing her father’s anger down on an innocent servant or slave. She felt unbearably edgy.

      It soon became clear that Alba too was concerned. Leonor was lying on a crimson cushion threaded with gold, staring blindly into the gardens, when Alba came in, Hunter perched on her shoulder. Since they were in the privacy of their tower, the Princesses had discarded their veils.

      Alba took the cushion next to Leonor. Hunter jumped from her shoulder and scampered towards a bowl of sunflower seeds, chattering happily. ‘What do you think they are doing?’ Alba murmured.