The Princess and the Wolf (The Princess and the Hound)

by Mette Ivie Harrison

  The hound who was King George said, “I don’t think I can. I have only done it twice in my life now. It will take years before I build up enough power to do it again.”

  “I am a hound,” said True.

  Now his mother Fierce was beside him. She was so much smaller than she had been. “Sometimes there is a reason for the magic,” she said. “Even if we cannot see what it is.”

  “The reason is a mistake,” said True.

  “You can stay here at the castle. See what the Olde Wolf is like here. See what he is doing.”

  “He will speak to me. He will convince me of anything he says.” True would be far more vulnerable here, where the Olde Wolf had focused his energies on the humans he hated.

  “Perhaps he will. But you will fight against him. You know the truth of him better than any other human. And you are strong.”

  “Mother, please.” Why did she have to expect so much of him? It seemed his whole life that he had been a disappointment to him. Had she wanted him to become human?

  “If the king’s daughter returns, you must protect her from the Olde Wolf, as well,” said his mother.

  It was the right thing to do. It was the only thing to do. “Yes,” said True.

  Chapter Thirteen: Dagmar

  Dagmar watched as Lord Morlieb called and animals came to him. There was no light to guide her, but she did not need it. The smell of him was enough to lead her forward. And he was surrounded by animals who followed him with a strange attention that seemed unnatural. They walked as if soldiers under the command of a human general. They were too quiet, and they moved with him, even if the movement was not their own.

  She kept far back, but she entered the forest and she saw the circle of stones that he had there. She watched as Lord Morlieb held up a hand and the animals walked meekly into the cages that were inside. They were locked in then, and their eyes were the only lights she could see, shining out as they stared at Lord Morlieb in awe.

  What would he do with them?

  Who was he?

  Why had he come to the castle?

  And what had he done to her father?

  Dagmar had to hurry away then, she knew. She had to be back inside the castle before anyone noticed she was gone, and before he returned himself. She had seen enough, though. She could return here, if necessary.

  If only she could speak to these animals as her father could. That would have been useful. But surely she could find something out. Or she could simply free the animals. That would thwart whatever evil plan Lord Morlieb had.

  What was this magic of his? It did not seem like her father’s. It was not merely speaking to the animals. But perhaps her father could do this, as well. Perhaps he chose not to.

  Her father had always been a gentle man. Doing this with his magic must be something he had never considered.

  The way back to the castle was not easy now that Dagmar had no one leading her. She fell once over a stone, cutting her cheek. Then she wandered into a bog and lost her boot. She tried to feel for it, but was terrified she would be sucked in once more, and she left it and went on barefoot.

  There were strangely no guards at the gate, and it was open. Dagmar walked right in without having to speak to anyone.

  She mounted the steps to her bed chambers and huddled into her bed. She was sure she would never be warm again. Her foot, now that she examined it in the candlelight, was badly cut and still oozing blood and pus.

  She had not even felt it hurt, because she had been so cold. She used the water in the basin by her bedside to clean it, and then bound it with some strips she took from her shift. There, that would have to do.

  She tried to put the foot into a dancing slipper and managed it—just barely. She did not know how well she would dance.

  Not that she wished to dance. It was only that Lord Morlieb might expect it.

  But perhaps she could think of a story to tell him about her foot and this would be an excuse to avoid the heated sensation of the dance. She wanted nothing more now than to never see the man again, never touch him, never feel his breath on her face, never hear the whispered extra sounds he made with every word.

  She had to speak to her father again. She dressed herself before her maid came in and forced her feet into a second pair of boots. The stiffness of the boot helped her walk, and she made her way to her father’s rooms.

  The guards stepped aside for her and she saw a man sitting at the side of her father’s bed. It was not her father. It was not anyone she had ever seen before.

  He was strong and young, with such muscles that even turned away from him, she could see the ripples along his back. He wore her father’s tunic and trousers and they did not fit him at all. He stumbled to his feet when he saw her, and she thought him clumsy. But as soon as he stopped moving, there was something about him that seemed graceful as a dancer.

  What would he be like on a dance floor, instead of Lord Morlieb?

  “Who?” he said, as if he did not know how to make a complete sentence.

  “I think I should be the one asking that. Who are you and where is my father?”

  “You must be the Princess Dagmar,” he said. His words were strangely accented, and he seemed to halt with each one, as if surprised each time he got another one out.

  “And you must tell me who you are or I will call the guards and they will throw you in the dungeon,” said Dagmar.

  “I am an enemy of the Olde Wolf. The man you call Lord Morlieb. And I hope to be your ally against him.”

  This was so much exactly what Dagmar wanted to hear that she was immediately suspicious. She felt as if she had fire beneath her skin. She only had to itch it and it would come out.

  “Where is my father?” she asked again.

  “He is—with my mother. He has gone into the forest.”

  Dagmar stared into his eyes. “Who is your mother?”

  “She is called Fierce,” he said. “Have you heard of her?”

  “Fierce? That is no name I have ever heard of. Is that even a human name?”

  “If I say it is not?” said the man.

  “And what is your name?” Dagmar asked him.

  “My mother calls me True,” he said.

  “And are you?” asked Dagmar. She was inclined to trust him, though she was not sure why. She listened carefully to make sure he did not speak with the extra syllables that Lord Morlieb used, but his words were plain and unadorned.

  “If I believe that my father went with your mother willingly, then why did they leave you here?”

  “I was to look after you. To make sure that Lord Morlieb did not force you to marry him.”

  “And you think I cannot do that for myself?” asked Dagmar.

  “Your father asked. I could not refuse him. He goes to the forest to help my mother speak to the animals before Lord Morlieb has them all under his power. They must be united and only he can do it.”

  “My father is ill. He was near death when I saw him last,” said Dagmar. “Did you cure him? Does your mother have some magic of healing?”

  He looked away then. “He is still ill,” he said.

  “Then I must go to him immediately. Take me to him. He will need me.”

  “And what if Lord Morlieb realizes you are both gone?” said the man who called himself True.

  “You cannot stop me.”

  “No. I cannot.”

  She leaned closer to him. She was angry, but he made her want to take a breath and dip her feet into a pool. He made her think of summer nights and tree climbing as a child. He smelled of life and freedom.

  She shook herself. He was as dangerous as Lord Morlieb, if not in the same way.

  “I am a princess,” she said, reminding herself as much as him.

  “I do not know what that is.”

  “I am to take my father’s place when he dies. I will be the ruler of this kingdom.” She found her chin kept protruding as she spoke, and it felt like a child’s way of insisting on what she wanted.
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  “Ruler. What is that?” he asked.

  Dagmar looked at him again. “You are not a human,” she said out loud. This was her father’s magic at last. She had heard of it, but she had never seen it. She had come to believe it was an exaggeration, that her father could perhaps make creatures appear to be different. But here was the proof.

  He looked down at himself, and shrugged. “How did you know?”

  It screamed at her. He was as little human as Lord Morlieb was.

  “What are you? A deer?” He was fleet enough for that. But not vulnerable. No, he was not prey. He was the predator. “A wolf?” She thought of Lord Morlieb. But why would he come alone, if he was with the lord?

  “A hound,” he said softly, with a hint of the low throatiness of a hound’s growl.

  “Ah,” she said. This concerned her less, somehow. “My mother the queen was a hound once. She prefers being human, but said that it was the best animal—if she had to be one.” Dagmar stared at him. Would he think that she had just insulted him?

  “My mother was human once. I do not understand how she could bear it,” said True.

  Dagmar laughed at that. She could not explain why, but she felt as if she had at last found someone who understood her life. She was always out of place in the castle, and she had never been able to believe that she would grow into it. But with him, she did not have to pretend. She did not have to play the part of the princess because he did not expect anything of a princess to begin with.

  “I do not understand it either, not today,” she said, still laughing.

  He laughed with her, and it was a genuine laugh. “I did not know that humans could see themselves so clearly,” he said.

  “Oh, we can. At least, I can. We are ridiculous, aren’t we?”

  “Do you know, you are like hidden coals, winking out, and bursting into flames when a bit of tinder is added.”

  Dagmar stared at him. Was he trying to compliment her? It was an odd thing to say, but then again, what did he know of flattery?

  “Fire,” murmured Dagmar. She liked that. No one had ever told her that before.

  “Come with me now. I must make sure you are free.” He took hold of her arm and not gently.

  “For one thing,” said Dagmar, looking down at the spot where she suspected a bruise would rise in the morning. “A princess is not to be touched by those beneath her.”

  “Oh? And why is that?” asked True. “It makes no sense to me. That is not how it is in the forest, with the hounds. The lead hound is the one most touched by the pack. It is how he keeps his power, and how they know that he cares for them. The lead female is little different.”

  “I am not a lead female,” said Dagmar.

  “You are a princess.” True put up his hands. “I will not touch you, then. Please come with me.”

  “And would the lead female do what you told her to do, simply because you had said it?” asked Dagmar.

  “The lead female follows the lead male. Most of the time,” said True. “But I have never been the lead male. My father was, for a time, but he is gone.”

  “I am sorry,” said Dagmar. She found she wanted to know all about his life.

  He is a hound, she told herself. He is only here for a little while. He cannot be part of your life.

  But that was precisely why she liked him so much. There was nothing to be gained, and so there was nothing to be risked. She could only find that she liked him for himself. She had never met anyone who cared less who she was, or vice versa.

  “My mother is with your father now. We must go to them,” he said.

  “No,” said Dagmar. “Not yet. I have plans for Lord Morlieb.”

  “Your father will fight him when he comes to the forest.”

  “That is well and good, but he will be weakened first before he goes to the forest. I will find out how to weaken him,” said Dagmar.

  True growled in frustration. “Can you not trust me to do what I said I would?”

  “Why should I trust you?” asked Dagmar. “I do not know you.” Even if she felt the weight of his name on her, that did not mean she would give up all her own will for him. He must think her one of his hounds if he thought she would.

  “We will work together against—what did you call him—the Olde Wolf,” said Dagmar. “Don’t hounds work together?”

  “When hunting,” said True. “Until the kill is made, and then it is every hound for himself.”

  “Or herself.”

  “Yes. Are you sure you have never been a hound?” asked True.

  “I am sure,” said Dagmar.

  “No. You are too human. But I like you. There is something about you that makes me feel more calm, more sure of myself.”

  “I am glad,” said Dagmar, though she thought it strange since she had never felt sure of herself in her life. Even with Lord Morlieb, she had only lost her sense of self. She had never felt confident with who she was.

  “I will take you—” said True, touching her again without thinking, with his cheek to hers.

  “Who are you?” asked a rumbling voice that was just behind the half-open door of the king’s bed chambers. “And why are you touching the princess, my betrothed?”

  True turned his face away from Lord Morlieb and seemed to cower. Was he afraid or was he only pretending?

  “He came in here and found my father gone.” Dagmar hoped that Lord Morlieb would not notice the detail that True wore her father’s clothing.

  “Gone? But he was ill. Where could he have gotten to? Did someone come for him?” He turned back to the guards at the door.

  Then he came back to her. “They will find him soon enough. And if anyone has tried to take him and use him against me—that is to harm him, I will see him punished. Will that not please you, Beloved?” asked Lord Morlieb.

  “Of course.” Dagmar smiled again.

  “And you? I do not recognize you,” Lord Morlieb said to True. Dagmar could see his nostrils flare as he tried to take in the scent of the man.

  Dagmar hoped fervently he did not see the truth she had seen immediately.

  “I am—”

  “He is new to the castle,” Dagmar put in. “And he was lost. He belongs in the stables. With the horses and the hounds.”

  “Yes. With the hounds,” echoed True. The look of confusion on his face now added to his part instead of making him suspicious.

  “Well, they are that way,” said Lord Morlieb. He pointed to the west. “And you had best hurry on your way there. I have heard some rumors that the animals have been very stubborn today. No doubt you will be needed far into the night.”

  Dagmar watched True’s expression. He was the first person she had seen who did not seem to go slack. He was not one of his slaves. Somehow, his life in the forest had protected him. Or perhaps it was something else about him.

  “Go on, then. If there is any smell of horse and hound around here, I think it is you.”

  “I will go. To the stables,” said True.

  “And if one of the animals attacks you, it is only because you deserved it. You handled them roughly,” said Lord Morlieb.

  “Yes, Lord,” said True, with a bow.

  Lord Morlieb turned his attention back to Dagmar after True had disappeared down the long hallway to the far side of the castle.

  “Is it true, that the animals are acting strangely in the stables?” she asked, while she could still make her mouth form the words she was thinking.

  “Who told you that? I think those are only rumors being spread about by those who wish to ruin our wedding.”

  “But you said to that stable boy—” Dagmar began.

  “You did not hear what I said to him,” Lord Morlieb interrupted her.

  So, she could not even ask him questions without him becoming suspicious.

  “All is well. There is nothing to fear. We are to wed and that is the only important thing in your world.”

  Dagmar murmured something softly and drew herself so close to him
. He felt hard and muscular and she was reminded of the time when she was small and her father had to go in a carriage to visit another part of the kingdom. She begged him to let her go with him and he told her no several times. She waited by the carriage, waving at him, until the horses began to move forward. Then she leaped onto the side of the door and held on with all her might, sure that her father would let her in at last.

  Instead, she had been unable to make a sound as the carriage began to speed ahead. Her hair flew behind her and her hands grew slick on the door. She knew she would fall off, but she could not let go.

  Lord Morlieb was that carriage. He was what she had wanted, and now that she had it, she was terrified.

  But she did not think this time that her father would stop the carriage gently, and pull her inside with him, to hug her tightly and then scold her for her disobedience. This time, her father was also clinging to the carriage for his life and it was she who would have to save them both.

  Chapter Fourteen: Golda

  Golda was in human form. She had grown daring as her father was absent, and she found herself more comfortable standing on two legs rather than four. She went to the edge of the forest often and watched the humans in the castle from a distance. They made their own skins to protect themselves. That seemed wise. She could see that they also kept close together so that it would be difficult to kill only one. No wonder her father had to make a grand plan to destroy them.

  Golda found a torn hat lying in the woods, and put it on her head. It felt cold at first, but warmed to the shape of her head, and she pulled it down around her ears. She walked with her head held high, as humans so often did, with no sense of danger. She liked how it felt. She looked at herself in a stream, and was surprised at how different she appeared.

  She changed back into a wolf, and the hat fell off her head and she laughed at the ridiculousness of a wolf with a hat on its head. But when she looked at the wolf, even without a hat, she thought that there was something wrong in it. She looked more carefully and then realized that her wolf face looked more like her human face than it looked like her father’s. A wolf’s coloring can vary widely, even in the same pack, but there are other signs that wolves come from the same stock. She could not see them.