Chapter 4: The Fainting Saint

The Queen's gardens had white gravel paths and rose arches, and I knew exactly where Sorrel would faint.

Chapter nine, the east walk, the fifth arch.

In the book it was described as a tragic accident, the saint overcome by grief near the villainess.

I had always thought it was suspiciously well timed.

Now I was walking toward the fifth arch with Betsy, and a crowd of courtiers was strolling behind us in the sun.

The Prince stood by the roses with two of his friends.

Sorrel stood alone on the path, in white, with a little basket.

She looked back over her shoulder, saw me, and went pale in a way that I had to admire.

"Lady Rosamund," she said, in a trembling voice.

"I only wanted to bring the Prince some flowers."

"They're lovely," I said.

She put her hand to her forehead.

The Prince saw her and started across the gravel toward her.

He was exactly eight steps away.

I began to count out loud.

"Eight," I said.

Sorrel's knees began to bend.

"Seven," I said.

She swayed.

"Six."

Sorrel tipped backward toward the gravel in a perfect white arc, and the Prince turned and ran.

"Five," I said, to the courtiers around me.

"Four."

She hit the Prince's arms at three, exactly on time.

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