The Rat Prince

by Bridget Hodder

The handsome, dashing, noble prince I had always dreamt of was sitting right across from me in this coach.

  He’d befriended me when I was a menial in my own father’s house, and he’d given me everything in his capacity to give. Kindness, loyalty, hope, food. When he told me why he admired me, he had mentioned not my beauty, but my character.

  He loves me.

  And witness his bravery! Thrust into a man’s body and a human world, he seemed confident of his ability to master whatever came his way. His concern was not for himself, but for me and the lives of his people.

  He was everything a girl could ask for.

  He also happened to be a rat.

  Earlier, when Char had boldly reached out and touched my hair with tender reverence, I’d made no protest, though I doubtless should have.

  I shivered with secret delight.

  He is in love with me.

  But before I could respond to his declaration, the doors of the coach were flung open, the steps were unfolded, and Swiss handed me down to the red carpet leading up the grand staircase of Castle Wendyn.

  As I emerged from the coach, there was a collective intake of breath among the ballgoers. After a moment of awed silence, there followed a cascade of whispered comment, swelling with each step I took up the stairs. By the time Char and I reached the landing where the majordomo awaited to announce the guests, the comments were loud enough for me to hear.

  “My dear, who is she?”

  “She is glorious! Magnificent!”

  “Beautiful, so beautiful. Have you ever seen the like?”

  You may have thought I would have felt embarrassed at the fulsome praise; yet it was the goddess’s magic they were speaking of, not the real Rose de Lancastyr. I only wished I could take some pleasure in this evidence that the enchantment was working. Instead, it unsettled me.

  My stepmother was somewhere in this throng, hating me, as was Eustacia. I felt myself begin to panic. What if she questioned the claim that Char and I were distant kin? Then at the small of my back came Char’s firm, warm touch, as if he could sense my fears.

  He murmured one word in my ear: “Courage.”

  My true friend. I wanted to hold him in my arms, and be held by him against his noble heart.

  “I shall always be at your side, my lady,” he whispered.

  Then the enormous clock set into the tallest tower of the castle began to toll the hour of eight, and I remembered Ashiira’s words: At the stroke of twelve, the spell dissolves completely. A bolt of dread shot through my breast.

  Char would not always be at my side! In a mere four hours, he would become a rat again and return to his own realm.

  “Whom shall I announce?” the majordomo asked.

  Char replied, staring straight ahead, “His Royal Highness, Prince Char of the Northern Realm, and the great-grandchild of his mother’s father’s sister’s cousin’s uncle by marriage, Rose de Lancastyr.” His eyelashes were an extravagant fringe of black, his mouth a clean line with a happy quirk. He appeared to be quite enjoying himself.

  The majordomo wavered for a moment. “The name is … Char? Did I hear aright, Your Highness?”

  “Short for Charming,” I corrected, relieved that I was still able to speak in spite of my nerves. “Prince Charming.”

  Char’s glance caught mine, and for a moment I thought he might laugh at the name I’d just given him. But he only smiled as the fellow boomed our titles across the splendid room. There was a musician’s gallery of carved, polished fruitwood at one end, from which the strains of a lovely violin piece were issuing. Massive pink marble columns supported a high ceiling painted aqua with gold stars. And suspended from the ceiling like a brilliant constellation was the largest chandelier I had ever seen, sparkling with what looked like a thousand lit candles, directly above the king’s throne.

  Char glanced up at the chandelier. Then he threw a look over his shoulder at Swiss, who raised a grim brow.

  “What is it, Char?” I whispered.

  “A mere nothing,” he said.

  The landing where we stood was a perfect place from which to view the glittering throng. I caught sight of Wilhemina with her red tiara, shooing my stepsisters and my father into a distant corner. As I watched, she threw me a venomous look and began speaking rapidly behind her fan to her crony, Lady Harriet.

  My heart beat faster.

  Then Char and I, with Swiss at our backs, made a slow, gracious descent of the staircase into the ballroom. All talking stopped, all eyes turned our way, and the guests moved aside to leave a wide path for us, leading straight up to the royal throne. There sat Good King Tumtry, in ermine robes and jeweled crown. Next to him stood a handsome young man I recognized as the prince. He wore a scarlet silk doublet, a red velvet cape, and a slender circlet of twisted gold upon his head. Slung across his chest was a belt from which hung a gleaming sword. His pose was somewhat drooped, as if from discouragement. But when he caught sight of me, he straightened and moved forward to place a hand upon his father’s shoulder.

  It seemed a sweet gesture, showing a bond between father and son.

  “Careful, my lady,” whispered Char. “We both need our wits about us tonight.”

  I felt unsteady. However, there seemed to be magic in my glass slippers. They gave spring to my steps, and Char supported me imperceptibly with his arm.

  We drew nearer. Prince Geoffrey’s attractive face lit up in a flashing smile.

  So many large white teeth.

  “By the Rood!” he cried. “The fairest of them all! My lady—what did the majordomo say? Rose de Lancastyr, your beauty blinds my eyes, enthralls my heart, renders me speechless!”

  I heard a small sound from Char that could only have been a snort. “That sounded like a vast deal of speech to me,” he whispered.

  Then Prince Geoffrey bounded forward and took my hand, pulling me toward his father. There was a moment’s tiny struggle as Char refused to give up his hold on my arm, and Geoffrey darted a frown at him.

  Char let go with distinct reluctance.

  “Father, Father,” Prince Geoffrey babbled. “How is it I have never before seen this goddess of love and beauty? What need for a ball, or a search, when perfection has been so close at hand all along?”

  Apparently, Geoffrey had not noticed me at my debut when I was fifteen, though he’d made quite an impression on me.

  “Lady Rose,” King Tumtry said with a smile of welcome, though he remained seated upon his throne. “you are indeed a vision of loveliness.”

  I curtsied low, thanking him and saying something about not being worthy of such a tribute.

  Prince Geoffrey bowed with a twirly wave of one hand. “Lady Rose, you are far too modest. You’re as fetching as your floral namesake. Why, you even smell like a rose!”

  I quickly controlled my expression. I wished Char had not been standing quite so close to me with such a look upon his face! If I burst into inappropriate laughter, what cause would that serve?

  Prince Geoffrey did not seem to notice, thank heavens.

  “So, my dear,” the king said to me, “this is your royal relation, Prince Charming?” He gave a regal nod to Char, then addressed him directly. “I’m not familiar with the Northern Realm, Your Highness, yet you are most welcome here. I look forward to learning more about you and your people this evening.”

  Char made a stylish bow—not too low, simply a respectful inclination in the king’s direction, as was appropriate from one monarch to another. I couldn’t help but notice the silky tumble of fine dark hair over his forehead as he moved.

  “Your Majesty,” he said. “I’m honored. You may not know the Northern Realm, but your royal wisdom and the keenness of your councillors, Lord Hamp and Lord Brimfield, is legendary even in my far-distant land. Perhaps later I may obtain your advice on a problem that has been vexing me, if you would be so kind.”

  I was impressed again. How on earth had Char learned the names of the royal councillors?

  King Tumtry pe
rked up a bit and looked at Char with genuine interest. “This pleases me greatly!” he said. “My privy council and I would be glad to guide you howsoever we may. In fact, Brimfield and Hamp are right here.” He beckoned two distinguished-looking older lords forward.

  “Prince Charming has expressed a desire for our counsel,” the king informed his advisers. “How rare these days to find a young man with great responsibility who seeks, rather than rejects, the advice of his elders.” He gave a sidelong glance toward his son, then looked again at Char. “Are you, like my son, Prince Geoffrey, heir apparent to the throne of your kingdom?”

  “No, Your Majesty.” Char folded his hands behind his back with a wisp of a smile. “In my realm, the prince is sovereign.”

  “Now that is interesting,” Prince Geoffrey chimed in.

  King Tumtry exchanged looks with Lord Brimfield and Lord Hamp.

  Then Lord Hamp asked Char, “How long ago did you inherit, Your Highness?”

  “In my land the throne is not inherited, but earned by trial. We have an old saying in the Northern Realm: ‘Monarch is best who passes the test.’ I earned the princedom several years ago. Though perhaps for modesty’s sake, I should not have mentioned it.”

  King Tumtry’s sad gaze lightened. He admired Char already; I could tell.

  So, unfortunately, could Prince Geoffrey.

  Geoffrey frowned, then darted a few looks between Char and me, as though trying to figure out if Char had stolen my heart as well as the king’s. I strove to keep my expression neutral.

  “I would be fascinated to hear more about a country that allows only the worthy to rule,” King Tumtry said to Char.

  “Yes, a most engaging and perhaps useful topic,” Lord Brimfield agreed.

  “Nay, it is boring!” Prince Geoffrey exclaimed. “Why do we discuss dull subjects like rulership in front of a glorious lady, when we’re here to enjoy ourselves?”

  “Indeed, this discussion is wasted upon some of us,” the king said with a pointed frown. Though I found this rather shocking, it seemed to go over Prince Geoffrey’s head.

  “Exactly, Father,” he agreed. “This is a ball, and though everyone else has been dancing and feasting, I have not. Now that you’ve come, beautiful lady, there shall be jollity!”

  King Tumtry looked exasperated and somewhat worried. My gaze met Char’s, and he seemed to be trying to convey something to me without words. Was it another warning? I took a deep breath. Then I let Prince Geoffrey take my hand and lead me out to the floor. Though I’d only just arrived at the ball, here I was, dancing with the prince. My emotions should have been soaring as high as the shining chandelier.

  “Musicians!” he called up to the gallery. “A sprightly tune for the queen of my heart!” The music began, and Prince Geoffrey swung me into a lively dance.

  His grip on my shoulder was uncomfortably tight.

  PRINCE CHAR

  “A sprightly tune for the queen of my heart!”

  I struggled against a strong impulse to wrap my now-nonexistent tail around Prince Geoffrey’s neck.

  And I was not the only one angered by his attitude.

  King Tumtry’s brows were drawn tightly together, his hands clenched.

  I looked over toward my faithful Swiss, who remained still as a soldier a few steps away. I said, “Guard, please follow my cousin and keep her safe. Use whatever means necessary. Do not leave her side.”

  Swiss gave me a look of understanding, saluted, and complied.

  When Prince Geoffrey’s dance with Rose had finished, the orchestra commenced to play another. Lord Hamp finally said, “Prince Charming, you show a most brotherly concern for Lady Lancastyr.”

  Brotherly? How very amusing. “Lord Hamp and Lord Brimfield, I have left my young relative alone for too long since her mother died. I was not aware that her father is wandering in his wits and incapable of protecting her from harm. So now I feel I should ask you the questions about Prince Geoffrey that a father might ask.”

  “Er, ask away,” Lord Hamp said.

  “My lords, though you are known as wise and just leaders, I have heard nothing at all about Prince Geoffrey except that he is handsome … and some uneasy whisperings about his character. Should not the people know more of their crown prince? Why do I get a strong impression of truths concealed?”

  “Why, whatever can you mean? We are concealing nothing, Your Highness!” blustered Lord Brimfield.

  “Are you not?” I glanced at King Tumtry, who seemed more than ever ill at ease. How far dare I push? “Then the gossip I overheard is untrue?”

  “There is no gossip! I have made sure of—” Lord Brimfield began, but Lord Hamp held out a hand to him in a silencing move.

  “Gossip usually is untrue, Prince Charming,” Hamp smoothly said. “I’m surprised a prince like you would stoop to listen.”

  I gave a light laugh. “Bravo, Lord Hamp, well done. Your king is most fortunate in his councillors. I can see I will need to be blunt. The problem I mentioned earlier, which has been vexing me and upon which I need your advice, is a simple one: Pray tell, is my cousin safe with Prince Geoffrey?”

  Knowing what I knew, I wondered how he could possibly answer.

  Apparently, Lord Hamp was wondering the same thing, for he remained silent just a few ticks too long.

  Then King Tumtry surprised us by growling, “Oh, have done with this pretense. Prince Charming is intelligent indeed, and he has obviously figured out the truth we’ve been able to hide from the entire kingdom.” He then turned to me and said, “Prince Charming, I do not understand my son; he has become selfish, violent, and frightening. I ask myself where my dear queen and I went astray in the raising of him. I wish I had not allowed this ball to go forward, for its premise is wicked. But I am advanced in years, feeble and holding on to life and rulership as long as I can until we find a solution. We meant to find a wise and, er, calm young lady to marry Geoffrey. One who could rule as queen if Geoffrey’s situation does not improve … and who might bear him a worthy son or daughter to inherit the throne.”

  “You wish to sacrifice my cousin’s safety and happiness for the sake of the kingdom,” I ruthlessly corrected him.

  Lord Hamp and Lord Brimfield both began to speak at once, then glared each other down.

  “I feel for your dilemma, gentlemen,” I declared after a breath of tense silence, “yet I cannot in good conscience allow my cousin to be matched with a dangerous man. I would like to resolve this peaceably. May I leave the problem in your hands?”

  “I’m deeply sorry, Prince Charming,” Lord Brimfield said. “But it looks like Prince Geoffrey has fallen head over heels in love with Lady Rose. Once he makes up his mind, no one is ever able to persuade him to change it, no matter how hard we try.”

  “And if we tried, we would bring on one of his, er, turns,” Lord Hamp warned, unable to repress a grimace.

  An image of Quintilius Porter’s head, rolling on the floor, flashed into my mind.

  “Let us humor my son tonight,” King Tumtry said with great weariness. “We’ll allow him to think he can become engaged to Lady Rose. Then tomorrow, when your cousin is gone—perhaps even on her way to the Northern Realm with you, Prince Charming—I shall inform him I do not approve of the match.”

  I considered this notion. It had the elegance of simplicity, and the advantage of not exposing Rose and the party guests to a potentially lethal temper tantrum from Prince Geoffrey. Though unfortunately, I had no far realm to which I could whisk Rose away. So it was more crucial than ever that we find her father’s old friends tonight, if possible, so they could pick up where I would have to leave off.

  “I agree,” I said. “In the meantime, my guard will protect Lady Rose.”

  “Very well,” said the king. “And of course, if any trouble should emerge, my own guard is here to intervene.”

  I bowed to King Tumtry. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

  Lord Brimfield said, with feeling, “Prince Charming, we owe you t
hanks for understanding our situation. It is most compassionate and humane of you.”

  I wondered if he would be so full of admiration for my humanity (ha!) had he known what I was planning. I gave a glance to the clock on the musicians’ gallery and noted with unease that it was almost the hour of nine. We had but three more hours to set everything right.

  “You are indeed admirable, Prince Charming,” Lord Hamp added.

  Before they could heap any more unearned compliments upon me, a girl I had never seen before interrupted us. I felt relief, until I realized what she was after.

  “Beg pardon, Your Majesty, Your Highness, my lords.” This girl wore a ruffled candy floss–pink gown with a plunging neckline. She curtsied prettily (though nowhere near as well as Lady Rose could). “My friends and I were wondering if Prince Charming might wish to take the floor with any of us.”

  I recoiled when I saw a group of giggling young ladies a few feet behind her. “Thank you, but I had really rather not.” I hoped my distaste wasn’t obvious.

  Lord Brimfield said in a low voice, “You will not wish to insult the local families, Your Highness. I advise you to go.”

  “I regret,” I said in a last-ditch effort, “that I have never learned your local dances!”

  “I shall be pleased to teach you,” said the pink-gowned creature.

  “Go, Prince Charming,” King Tumtry said with a glint of a genuine smile. “You are young. Enjoy the ball.”

  Oh, so be it.

  I put one hand at the girl’s waist and led her into the dance. Aha, it was easy! The only requirements were to move to the music and imitate what the other dancers were doing. One, two, three … one, two, three … Then I realized I could steer my partner in the direction of my beloved Rose. We wove in and out of the other couples as I kept her in sight. I noted that Swiss was lurking within a few paces of her at all times.

  Then suddenly, there was the dreaded Wilhemina. She and her companions, all dripping with showy jewelry and with their hair piled high on their heads, were grouped around a dessert table, mouths moving rapidly. I guessed they were chewing up my love’s reputation as fast as they were gobbling up sweets. I sorely missed my rat-hearing.