“Sire,” I started, my voice surprisingly calm, “I have come to offer you a way to win back Princess Rosa without a battle. If you agree to postpone the confrontation with my father, I will help you get to her so you can again win her favor. I give you my word that Don Juan will be . . . gone by then.”
“You came to offer me Princess Rosa back?” Don Julián repeated without bothering to disguise his amusement. “And what made you think I would want her now, Princess?”
“Because you are in love with her.”
Don Julián started laughing. But there was no merriment in his laugh. It was a false, contrived, and somehow sad noise, so unexpected it made me wonder about his sanity. Finally he stopped, and looking at me as if I were the crazy one, he asked, “Have you ever heard of a marriage of convenience, Princess?”
And as the meaning of his question that was not a question sunk in, I started shaking. “But then . . .” I stopped. What I wanted to say but couldn’t was that then the war was inevitable; that because of me, people would die. Again, like the day at the arch when I had seen the huge wave of water roaring toward me, I was paralyzed by fear. And this time John was not there to rescue me.
“Even if I loved Princess Rosa, it is too late now to make amends,” I heard Don Julián saying through the cloud of cotton my head had become. “Personal feelings, Princess, are a luxury kings cannot afford. By breaking the engagement, Don Andrés gave me no option. The safety of my kingdom is at stake. If I do not respond to the affront, our enemies will judge us weak and will attack. I am afraid, Princess, that to accept your offer under these circumstances is totally out of the question.”
Still I said nothing.
“Now if that is all, Princess, I must ask you to accept my hospitality. My men will escort you to Alvar.” Turning away from me, he started toward the door.
At the mention of Alvar, another voice came to my mind. “I am Don Alfonso de Alvar,” his brother had told me when we met on the tree, the day of the Spring Ball.
“Wait, Sire. May I have a word with Don Alfonso? He . . . he will understand.”
Don Julián stopped, and his right hand reached for his sword as he turned. Certain that he was going to attack me, I snapped open the golden arrow that held my braid around my head, and jumping to one side, I looked up ready to confront him. But the hair hanging loose over my face blinded me. By the time I had pushed it away and could see again, the king was standing in front of me at arm’s reach. His hands were empty.
“Why do you want to see Don Alfonso?” Don Julián demanded, his dark eyes searching mine.
“I . . . we . . . I mean Don Alfonso and I, we met before.”
“That explains many things,” the king said enigmatically. For a moment he hesitated. “If you want to see him, it is fine with me. I was going to send you to the castle anyway. Not as a prisoner, of course, but to ensure your safety. Our countryside is not safe for a princess alone.” His eyes lingered on my hands as he finished, “Not even for one so well-prepared.”
My face red in shame, I returned the arrow to my hair while the king called to the guards.
“Take Princess Andrea to Alvar,” he commanded as they entered. “She will be staying there until further orders. In the meantime, she will be allowed to visit Don Alfonso freely. Just keep me informed of everything they say.”
With a sharp bow in my direction, he moved back to the table and resumed his writing.
What an arrogant fool, I thought as the soldiers pushed me forward. And in my anger, I understood why my father was so intent on defeating him. He deserved it.
16
Prisoner
After riding all day and well into the night, the woods opened into a clearing to reveal the Castle of Alvar. As if growing from the rocks themselves, it loomed ahead of us, imposing and majestic over the lone mountain that supported it.
By then, the enthusiasm I had felt when leaving my father’s castle, the frustration at my defeat, and even my anger at Don Julián had subsided to a waning memory. Exhausted and barely able to stay on my horse, I climbed the steep slope that led to the gate, while Lua the copper moon retreated behind the castle walls as if she, too, were being taken prisoner.
As soon as we reached the courtyard, a soldier came over and, after helping me to dismount, escorted me inside the castle. But instead of throwing me into the dungeon as I expected, he led me upstairs to the second floor of the keep and down an empty corridor, until finally we stopped in front of a massive door. The soldier placed his torch into a bracket on the wall, retrieved a rusty iron key from his belt, and opened a door. With a bow, he moved back and motioned me inside.
I walked in and found myself in a large chamber with rich tapestries hanging on the walls. Through the only window, half covered with heavy burgundy curtains, the light of Athos the golden moon was struggling to come in. Underneath the sweet smell of thyme that came from the rush at my feet, mold and dust still lingered in the air as if the room had been closed for a long time. Why should anyone bother to prepare such a room for a prisoner? A bouquet of roses resting on the trunk at the foot of the bed, red as blood against the black canopy, only added to my confusion.
Behind me, the door slammed. I jumped, startled by the hollow sound, and dragging my feet painfully forward, I crawled onto the bed. With the metallic click of the key turning in the lock still in my ears, I fell asleep.
A woman’s voice broke into my dreams. I tried to ignore it, but again and again her words called to me in my sleep. Two of them—“Don Alfonso”—lagged in my mind long enough to wake me up.
“Don Alfonso insists on seeing you, my lady,” a maid was saying.
Don Alfonso. Alvar. Don Julián. The ride to the castle. Awakened by the painful memory of my capture, I jumped out of bed.
“Let him in,” I said to the old servant staring at me from the other side of the bed. I couldn’t make Don Alfonso wait. After all, I was his prisoner.
The maid shook her head. “First my lady, you should change into more appropriate clothing,” she said as her sharp eyes swept over me. Contempt showing in the sharp tone of her voice, she added, “In anticipation of your wishes, I have taken the liberty of preparing a bath. If her ladyship would like to come with me, I will assist her.”
Although I found her disapproving stare deeply offensive, I knew she was right—I did need a bath badly. Trying to look as dignified as possible in my beaten uniform, I followed her through a side door hidden behind one of the tapestries that opened into the servant’s room.
While the maid helped me to undress, I tried to strike a conversation with her. A futile attempt. Disappointed, I gave up, and abandoning myself to the forgotten pleasure of the warm water, I submitted to her meticulous scrubbings in silence.
Back in my room, she helped me into the gown I had chosen from several she had placed on the bed. The dress, an oldfashioned blue muslin robe, was not exactly to my taste, but even I had to admit it was an improvement over my dirty and sweaty uniform.
Smiling at my reflection in the mirror, I thanked her for her help.
The maid didn’t return my smile. “King’s orders,” she said and left.
Almost immediately I heard a knock at the door, and Don Alfonso, escorted by two soldiers, came in. He was as smartly dressed as he had been the day of the ball. This time, though, he was not wearing a uniform, but civilian clothes with no emblem on them.
“Welcome to Suavia, Princess,” he said with an elaborate bow.
I curtsied back. “Thank you, my lord.”
As we talked, the soldiers had closed the door and, arms ready, had taken positions at both sides. Don Alfonso did not seem to notice. Smiling widely, he asked after my health.