The Princess's Secret Longing. Carol Townend

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       Chapter One

      1396—the Alhambra Palace in the Emirate of Granada

      Princess Alba lay in the dark, an unfamiliar noise had dragged her from her dreams. She turned restlessly, unable to work out what had woken her. All she could hear was a trill of birdsong. In her mind’s eye, she saw birds flying over lawns and terraces and flitting in and out of shrubs in the wilderness beyond the palace wall. They sounded happy. Free!

      A lantern glowed softly in a niche, casting a gentle light on the sleeping forms of Alba’s sisters, Princess Leonor and Princess Constanza. Their black hair was loosely tied back for sleep, just like hers, and their eyelashes lay like dark crescents against their cheeks. Princess Alba and her sisters were triplets, identical triplets.

      Alba yawned and, as she looked at her sisters, she was gripped by an odd fancy. It was as though she was looking at other versions of herself, versions which had yet to waken. Irritated, she brushed the thought aside. Her sisters’ features might mirror hers, but their characters—oh, so very different.

      The bedchamber shutters were closed, and it was so early that nothing was visible through the star-shaped patterns cut into the wood. The Princesses hadn’t been long in their father’s favourite palace—only a few days—but already Alba knew that in daytime the piercings in the shutters turned bright sunlight into starry splashes on the floor tiles.

      There it was again! That mysterious noise. Alba sat up. What could it be? The cry of a hawk? No, that was no hawk. That was surely—a baby.

      Her breath stopped. Could it really be a baby? Whose could it be? It couldn’t belong to her father the Sultan, may God exalt him. The Sultan had only sired three children, Alba and her sisters. Sultan Tariq’s unfulfilled wish for other children—more precisely, for a son—was well known.

      Alba scrambled to the window. Kneeling on a cushion, for the window was low and the floor hard, she shoved at the shutter and strained to hear more. She’d spent most of her life far away in Salobreña Castle and not once had she held a baby. A pang shot through her, violent and intense. If there was a baby in the palace, she must see it. Hold it.

      Loath to wake her sisters, Alba snatched up a robe and veil and was dressed in no time. She took the lantern to light her way, crept softly downstairs and slipped out of the tower.

      The stars were fading, the sky was turning pearly grey and the air was pleasantly cool.

      Ahead of her, paths ran this way and that. Buildings were visible as black shapes at the end of the paths. So many walls and towers. Alba had yet to learn the layout of the grounds, but in this instance, it didn’t matter. That sound, the faintest of whimpers, was her guide. There was a baby in the palace!

      Stepping on to the lawn, Alba sped past a hissing fountain. She entered a small grove of trees and was greeted by the heady scent of oranges. A section of the palace wall lay on her left hand and light glowed briefly from a guardhouse at the top. Her father the Sultan had many guards.

      Mindful of the need for discretion, Alba tugged her veil tightly about her face. Sultan Tariq insisted that the Princesses wore veils, even when walking here in the palace grounds. Any man who caught a glimpse of her face would be severely disciplined. Alba wasn’t sure what form the punishment would take, it was enough to know that her father ruled with an iron hand. She wouldn’t be able to live with herself if a guard suffered on her account.

      God was with her, she saw no guards.

      Several buildings were clustered behind a screen of myrtle bushes, the thread of sound came from the nearest. The strengthening light revealed a line of windows with arches shaped like horseshoes and a large door heavily decorated with ironwork. The door opened smoothly, and Alba entered a shadowy antechamber. An indignant wail echoed across the marble floor.

      Excitement fizzing through her veins, Alba hurried towards a curtained door arch.

      Since her father the Sultan only had three children, this building had to be part of Prince Ghalib’s harem. Prince Ghalib was Alba’s uncle. He was much younger than the Sultan and to say that he must find life difficult was an understatement.

      Prince Ghalib was her father’s designated successor, he was an heir locked in a gilded cage. Like Alba and her sisters, her uncle wasn’t allowed his freedom. Alba understood why. Insurrections were commonplace СКАЧАТЬ