Page 70 of Heart of Snow
“Friedrich, I think the foot huntsmen are assembling.” The countess pointed to the men and boys holding beaters and getting instructions.
I bowed my departure and escaped toward the other foot huntsmen, pausing near a grove of trees to grab a sturdy branch for beating. When I joined the group, I couldn’t stop a reflexive backward glance at Margaretha. The prince was shamelessly close, running a gloved finger over her jaw as she looked in his eyes.
The hunting horn blew, and I was grateful to leave them both behind, beating my branch against the brush with more energy than I cared to explain. But no matter how hard I thwacked through the grass, the sweaty work wasn’t enough to put my thoughts to rest. The countess I’d known back in Wildungen was lost to me forever. Her innocent blush, gone. Her naivete, gone. The change was painful to see, especially with the prick of guilt telling me I was to blame. Would she have stayed with me if I’d forgiven her? Was it because of me that she was forced to demean herself with the prince? Though from the looks of it, she didn’t seem too troubled by his attentions...
Panicked shouting pulled me from my thoughts, and I turned to find a pair of foot huntsmen waving wildly at me. Their wordswere buried beneath a snorting sound, a low, hollow growl coming from my left. A dark blur streaked toward me, and I didn’t even have time to lift my stick in defense before it bowled me over with its head, its sharp tusk tearing through my hose and into my leg. Scrambling to stand, my feet slipped through slickened grass, and I was back on the ground and beneath the wild boar’s hooves before a deafening crack echoed above me. The boar let out a short squeal, then dropped on top of me, its dead weight squeezing the air from my lungs.
With shaking hands, I pushed against the boar, wriggling myself out from under its stinking carcass to find a nobleman with a smoking arquebus still pointed in my direction. A distant round of applause made us both turn.
“Good shot, Egmont!” The prince prodded his horse forward, ducking under a branch to meet us in the clearing. “I’m glad to see your skills as a marksman outrank your success with the ladies.”
“Felipe!” Margaretha chided, entering the clearing close behind, but the prince continued unchecked.
“Particularly for thecomitissa’s sake. Lady Margaretha may well have lost a servant today.”
I turned back to Egmont and bowed. “I thank you, Your Lordship.”
He nodded and handed his arquebus down to his attendant for reloading. Turning his horse out of the clearing, he called over his shoulder. “Your leg will need attention.”
Confused, I dropped my gaze to see warm blood dripping down my hose. My lower leg suddenly pulsed in pain.
“You’re cut?” Margaretha slid from her horse and knelt to inspect the gash.
The prince sauntered up beside her. “That a good scratch,” he yelled to me in broken French. “A story for telling yourenfants, yes?” Did he not know the language of those he ruled?
“It’s not just a scratch.” Margaretha bit off her glove and pried the wound with her fingers. I sucked in a sharp breath through my teeth, and she looked up with a furrowed brow. “This cut is deep. It will need stitching.”
The prince bent down to see, then barked in Spanish to one of his pages. The boy ripped the tail of his shirt before coming forward to wrap the linen around my wound.
“Ah, that better now, yes?” The prince smiled and nodded at me. I didn’t think I was allowed to disagree.
“Yes.” I hobbled over to retrieve my stick.
“Very good.” He took hold of Margaretha’s hand, guiding her back to her horse, but she pulled away.
“It will not do. He’s limping, and in short order, the blood will overwhelm the bandage. He needs stitches and a physician.” She was watching me as she spoke, but in the end, she met the prince’s gaze with surprising conviction.
His furrowed brow softened, and he snapped his finger at his attendants. “We’ll put your servant on your horse, Lady Margaretha, and you can ride back with me.” He’d returned to using Latin.
“No, I can’t,” she protested. “I should stay with the queen and her ladies.” But the prince’s servants were already giving me a leg up onto Margaretha’s horse. The prince mounted his steed and reached his hand down to Margaretha. When she glanced at me, I pretended to fiddle with the reins, avoiding her gaze until she’d settled into the prince’s saddle.
The prince guided his horse out, and I followed close behind, seeing only his frame, his body and arms covering all but Margaretha’s hat as she sat in front of him. I hated to think how much he was enjoying this. Would he breathe in the lilac scent of her hair and neck? Did she want him to?
I had to stop myself, had to focus on the pain in my leg, which pulsed and ached, yet it wasn’t enough to distract me from the prick of jealousy’s thorn piercing from inside.
Chapter 34
Margaretha
Even through his doublet, Felipe’schest was warm against my back. What did Friedrich think, seeing the prince with his arms tight around my shoulders the way Friedrich’s had once been? The memory of that visit to the miner’s cottage summoned an ache of longing, and I questioned yet again if I would rather have lied to Friedrich about his mother or never met him to begin with. But all was done with him now. I had no right to think of Friedrich, save what I stole from him. My duty to Samuel, my need for redemption—that was where my focus must be.
We pulled into the courtyard, and Felipe was quick to throw orders at his attendants, getting them to help Friedrich from his horse and into the palace to find the kaiser’s personal physician.
“Not the court physician?” I asked Felipe, following him up a flight of stairs.
“That flesher? It’s Vesalius you need.” He turned into a deeply recessed doorway, putting his hand on the knob. “You wouldn’t want just anyone taking care of one you value so much.”
I reared my head. “Whatever do you mean?”
