Gwenhwyfar by Mercedes Lackey

would happen later.
    The talk was of nothing particularly serious; that, too, would wait until the morrow, when all the guests would be here. The only thing that Gwen heard of any interest was that Braith would not be racing tomorrow; the best of Hydd’s mares were all in foal (the king looked envious), her team included.
    Long before the men were prepared to take to their beds, Gwen and the other pages began to droop. She was willing to hold out as long as she had to, or at least to try, but the king took pity on them all and dismissed them. “My own servants can see our cups stay full,” he said with a laugh. “And we’ll get no work out of these youngsters tomorrow if they cannot keep awake.”
    As was usual now, Gwen was the first into the big bed. Now she could have claimed the choice spot in the center, but she kept to her old place instead. This endeared her to her older sisters, who in their turn saw to it that Gwenhwyfach got not so much as a hope of interfering with her. Little Gwen might have outwardly reformed, but it was clear that Cataruna and Gynath were not convinced of her sincerity,
    Nor was Gwen, but since her return to the king’s good graces, Little Gwen seemed to have wormed her way back into the position of “indulged baby.” Gwen didn’t much care, given that she had everything she could ever have wanted, but the two older girls were not so happy about it.
    And in fact, they woke her up when the three of them came to bed, arguing about it.
    “. . . Father thinks it’s amusing,” Gynath was saying, the disapproval so thick in her tone that it surprised Gwen into complete wakefulness. “But it’s a disgrace. You shame all of us, acting like that. You’re too young to be putting on such a show and old enough to know better.”
    “But Father likes it,” Little Gwen said insolently. “So you have nothing to say about it! I’m his favorite, and I can do what I want! You heard him!”
    “We heard him,” Cataruna said darkly, then laughed. “But you won’t be his favorite for much longer, you wicked little changeling. You just wait till harvest. Ha!”
    “Why?” Little Gwen’s tone was suspicious.
    “I’m not going to tell you!” Cataruna taunted. “Because you are so full of yourself that you haven’t paid any attention to what’s going on right under your nose!”
    “Tell me!” Little Gwen demanded. “Tell!”
    “Oh, tell her before they hear her out in the Hall and we all get in trouble,” Gynath interrupted, crossly. “Oh—never mind. Brat, by the time harvest comes around, Mother will have had a baby, and it’s going to be a boy. Which means not only will you not be the youngest anymore, Father won’t care a straw about what you want. Not when he has a prince to fuss over. So there! Chew on that a while, and enjoy yourself while you can, because by this time next year you’ll be lucky if he even notices you!”
    The bed creaked and moved as the two eldest girls got in.
    “You’re lying!” Little Gwen finally burst out. “I don’t believe you!”
    “And I don’t care. We’re going to sleep. You can stand there all night stamping your foot if you want, it’s not going to change the truth.” The bed bounced and shook a little more as both of the older girls turned their backs on the youngest. Little Gwen stood there for several moments longer, before finally coming to bed herself. But she said nothing, so Gwen fell quickly asleep.
    In the morning she was the first awake, and none of the other three even stirred as she slipped out of bed. They must have come to bed much later than she had supposed, and far past their usual bedtime. Could that have been the cause of the quarrel? Or had it been something else?
    Well it hardly mattered. Gwen had work to do.
    The first thing was to make sure her horses were properly tended for the day. The grooms would ordinarily take care of that, but they would have their hands full with all of the visitors’ horses. So Gwen