The Willful Princess and the Piebald Prince by Hobb Robin Page A

stabbed him; his blood was a bright red rose on the breast of his pale shirt. The smith stood over the Queen-in-Waiting, between her and the infuriated Spotted Stud, pitch fork in his knotted hands, stout legs braced for the next attack. Blood reddened the tines of the fork.
    My mind leapt to the conclusion: the horse had attacked and he had fended it off, and then defended himself against the Stablemaster. As I watched in horror, the horse came down as the man thrust up. The fork sank deep into the stud’s chest, and then the animal tore it free of the smith’s grip as he fell forward onto it. The handle of the fork struck the smith a terrible blow. With a final scream, the dying stallion collapsed less than an arm’s length from Caution. Blood fountained from his wounds and blew out on his fading scream. Gouts of his blood, from both his black hide and his white, leaped onto her dress, wetting her to the very skin. At that touch, she shrieked as if scalded, and fell onto Lostler’s breast as if to shield him.
    The blood blotched her with scarlet. The horse bared his teeth and then sank down, dead, his muzzle touching his master’s lax hand. Half in Caution’s lap, Lostler suddenly sagged, as lifeless as his horse. Stablemaster and Spotted Stud were both dead.
    Sounds ebbed to one instant of silence, then rose in a roar of shrieks, shouts and exclamations. But I heard only the Queen-in-Waiting’s shrill scream, which went on and on and stopped only when she crumpled senseless, spattered and soaked with blood from both horse and man.
    “Get back, let me through!” I was shrieking, but no one heeded me. They all surged forward like hounds ringing a kill, and I was pushed back and to one side. I could not so much as touch the dripping hem of her skirt as she was gathered up and carried back toward the doors.
    As I could not get close to her there, I thought to be clever and forced my aching legs to hurry ahead of the throng and run up the stairs to her chambers. Surely they would bring her there, I thought, and I would be waiting. But they didn’t. The fainting Queen-in-Waiting was borne off, at the king’s command, to her mother’s chambers, adjacent to his own. The king’s own healer was summoned to attend her. By the time I realized my error and went there, a dozen other ladies had won entrance before me. I could scarcely get close to the door, but the muttered gossip I heard shocked me. When they had stripped the bloodied clothing from her body, they had discovered that some of it was hers. Queen Caution had awakened from her faint calling for the Stablemaster, and then gasping in pain as the sudden cramps took her. In the midst of her grief, her child was struggling to be born.
    I fled to my mother.
    I think she was waiting for me. Her latest ward was asleep, but she had kept to the room where she had put him down. The hearth fire burned quietly, snapping and muttering to itself. A pot of tea, freshly made, steamed beside it. The babe’s mother had rushed off to join in the general clamor about the Queen-in-Waiting, so we were alone when I sank to the floor beside my mother’s chair and leaned my head against her knee. “It was terrible,” I said. “They have taken her from me and I don’t know what to do.”
    My mother jerked her knee away from me. “Stop being stupid. That’s the first thing, Felicity.” I straightened up and stared at her. Against my will, tears filled my eyes at her harsh tone. She ignored them. “I wish you had listened better to me before, but there is no time to rebuke you now. Sit up, listen, and do as I say: you may yet have a chance to keep your position, and perhaps find a better life for the child you carry.”
    She arose from her chair and stepped away from me. I stood more slowly and followed her as she went to her clothing chest and opened it. From the corner of it, she took a small cloth bag and pushed it into my hand. It weighed nearly nothing. “I prepared this for