The Princess and the Hound by Mette Ivie Harrison Read Free Book Online Page B

into the duties of a prince every hour of every day. And when the king said, “A prince must think of the kingdom first, its citizens second, and himself last of all,” she might have said that there were times a prince could think of himself first, or there would be nothing left of him to give to others.
    George wished he knew when those times might be,but Sir Stephen could not help him there. He told stories to gain George’s compliance, but he did not let George forget who he was. Not even for a moment. And he never, ever gave George the slightest hint that there might be reason to trust him enough to tell him the deepest secret of all, of animal magic.
    There George needed no reminder of his mother, for the last weeks of her life and the manner of her death made it clear to him that he had to make sure there was not even a suspicion of his having animal magic.
    Yet for all his secrecy, George could not make his magic go away, for he had learned that from his mother’s death. So he did his best to find out what he needed to know. He found himself thirsty for any scrap of information or rumor. And he heard much, as he stood at his father’s side, from adults and even from the servants’ children, who ran freely in the castle as George could not.
    He could do no more than listen, however. The moment he tried to ask a question directly or gave any sign that he was watching, the voices ceased. He received bows aplenty, as was suited to the prince of the kingdom, but nothing more.
    Once he ordered a group of children playing in the field outside the castle to let him play with them. But they would only do exactly as he commanded them. They would stand here or there, run this way or that, but they would not play. How could they when he had power over their very lives?
    Still, he could not stop himself from seeking moreinformation and more company. He was allowed little time indeed with animals, almost as if Sir Stephen had suspected George’s animal magic and were trying to keep him away from them. And yet he did not watch so closely that George was in danger of another magical fever. George simply waited until he was thought asleep and went on his own, in the dark.
    When George was nine years old, the king decided that it was time for him to begin making friends among the children who would be his peers when he was king. The sons and daughters of dukes and lords were invited to the castle, and George was commanded to play with them. This was hardly more successful than his own attempts at commanding friendship.
    These noble children always let him win whatever game they played, but George supposed that was better than not playing at all. And there was Peter, the son of a minor noble, who George thought might actually forget now and again that he was supposed to be losing. Perhaps Peter even forgot that George was the king’s son. Or so George allowed himself to believe.
    Peter was several years older than George and taller too, but they often raced together. One day, as they both were lying on the grass after a race that George had narrowly won when Peter pretended to fall and sprain his ankle, Peter recovered his breath first. Unexpectedly he began to talk of animal magic.
    “Don’t touch that toad,” he told George as it crossed their path on the way to the moat.
    “Why not?” asked George, startled.
    “A toad that has danced under a full moon will bring animal magic to any who touch him and to all their children forever after,” Peter said in an ominous tone.
    George jerked his hand away from the toad and stared at Peter. “Everyone who has the animal magic got it from a toad?” he asked. He knew that his mother and her father had had it. He thought it was simply passed along blood to blood. But what if it was not?
    “Not everyone,” said Peter. “There are other ways.”
    “What other ways?” demanded George.
    “Well, I’ve heard that kissing behind a haystack after midnight on the third week of a