The Hostage Prince by Jane Yolen Read Free Book Online Page B

through the arrow slit, landing four stories down in the garden below, though no one thought such a thing possible.
    On one side of the door, Yarrow was lifted in the air and tossed the length of the room to hit the wall with an ugly thud.
    On the other side the three midwives were treated the same. Only they didn’t hit the wall.
    They hit Snail.
    All that saved her was that she managed to curl into a ball as the three sizable midwives hurtled at her. They squashed her against the wall and she lay still, trying to consider each individual bone, hoping nothing was broken. Finally, she came to the conclusion that everything was whole—with the possible exception of her pride.
    But as no one dared move for long minutes, Snail was afraid that having no broken bones wouldn’t matter. Instead, she would certainly end up crushed. Together, the midwives weighed almost as much as any troll
.
    She wiggled a finger painfully. After a long minute, she was able to move her right arm a bit. Once that arm was free, she was able to shift to one side so that her left arm could move as well. At last, with two free arms, she was able to drag herself out from under the midwives, though she was immediately exhausted by the effort.
    That was when she heard a strange sound—
like a pig in labor
, she thought—coming from across the room. She knew what laboring pigs sounded like. Apprentice midwives got to practice on them before being allowed into any fey birthing room.
    Looking around, she realized it was Yarrow making the ghastly noise.
    Well, at least she’s alive,
Snail thought
. I won’t have to clean the whole room up myself.
    But even that thought was a bit unwelcome. Yarrow was now whimpering so loudly, Snail was sure the queen, with her supersensitive hearing, would strike again.
    â€œShhhh,” Snail hissed at her. “Shhhhhh!” and pointed to the door.
    Yarrow’s whimpering moderated a bit but never stopped.
    As nothing more was heard from the door, no more lightning through the keyhole, no ogres or Red Caps coming in to eat them whole, Snail got to her hands and knees. She was pleased that—except for an extremely dirty pair of hands and her hair being all askew—she was fine.
Nothing broken, nothing torn, nothing past saving.
    She stood up slowly, then went over to the door, and knelt by poor Philomel’s remains, though all that was left of her was a bit of dust and a silver locket.
    Oddly, Snail felt a tear in her eye. She wiped it brusquely away.
    Hrmph!
she thought
. I hardly knew her, and what I did know I didn’t much like.
But a push in the back didn’t warrant such an awful end
.
Snail knew she’d wanted revenge, but not this. Not just a pile of dust in a cold room.
    Another tear came and dripped down onto the silver locket. It sizzled and disappeared where it hit. Snail was glad she hadn’t touched the thing. It obviously wasn’t cool yet, or free of the queen’s magic. Sometimes silver could hold the remnants of a spell for hours and even be dangerous a day later.
    Wiping her eyes, she stood up.
    It’s just this place. So much random pain and . . . and . . . meanness!
She thought of Nettle and his pranks.
Not on the same level as the queen’s anger, of course. But still . . .
    She moved her right shoulder, which was beginning to stiffen up
.
Then,
sighing, she turned back to look at the midwives. They seemed fine, if a bit shaken. Their eyes were wide open, watching her. But they didn’t look like they dared move yet.
    Fine—lie there in a pile like sows after a feeding,
she thought.
But if I’m going to die, I’d rather it was while I was doing something.
    Not that there was much to do. The room had been destroyed, and wouldn’t be suitable for
any
birthing, let alone the queen’s.
    She glanced down at the locket and dust.
There’s nothing I can do for Philomel now.
    Hearing a whimper,