Read Online The Rat Prince by Bridget Hodder - Free Book Online

moody today, I thought. I judged it wisest to make no comment.
    Instead I proceeded with Swiss to the throne room, where my elite team of rat-warriors was waiting to start our expedition to Castle Wendyn. As you may recall, there were five of them: Corncob, a stout older rat with street experience; Truffle, a lean and dangerous black-furred female with extra-sharp teeth; and a trio of brave brown brothers, Beef One, Beef Two, and Beef Three, whom no one could tell apart. They each wore strips of jerked, dried meat around their necks, as is customary for soldiers departing on a long march. Their eager faces, their paws curled like claws, and their anticipatory chatter showed they were prepared for any sort of perilous deeds.
    Yet, I’d stretched the truth a bit about needing a stalwart force in order to venture across the city.
    In fact, I had almost lied.
    Because there is no danger at all involved in the trip, unless you count snaking through drainpipes and swimming in sewers to be dangerous. If you’re human, it might well be so. If you’re a rat, it’s a little pleasant exercise. As for the oh-so-fearsome Southern Rat Realm, their princess, Mozzarella, was once daring and dauntless but had become extremely lazy since ascending the throne. She probably would not care a whit whether we passed through her domain or not.
    To be completely honest (and I always am, unless it is not to the purpose), during my earlier appearance in the throne room I’d played up the drama of the moment to give my people the pleasure of being witnesses and participants in a great endeavor.
    That is how rats get the chance to feel like heroes. It’s also how princes get featured in songs and stories.
    â€œBrave citizens of my realm!” I now shouted to the group of five.
    They pointed their snouts in my direction, inhaling my scent of excitement and determination.
    â€œWe shall reconnoiter the royal castle and find Prince Geoffrey; then we will remain to spy upon him. I am in the lead with Royal Councillor Swiss. You bring up the rear, my loyal subjects, and in case of attack, fight tooth, fight nail, fight to the death!”
    Swiss’s snort was drowned out by a shrill battle cry arising from five rat-throats, and off we charged.
    *   *   *
    It took over an hour to get to Castle Wendyn. I hesitate to describe our route in detail, for I do not wish to provide any interfering humans with the means to block rat access points. Suffice it to say, we began by sliding into a hole in the carved wooden pipe beneath a particular, unspecified sink at Lancastyr Manor. (Even the largest rat, my friends, can squeeze into an opening no wider than a walnut.) This led us to the public pipeline of hollowed tree trunks under the street, and from there to the large, rushing stone sewers.
    We stood together on the cobbled bank of the fast-moving, rank-smelling underground river, eyeing it with distaste. “In we go!” I declared.
    â€œMust we?” Swiss complained. “Surely we could run alongside it. The ledge is wide enough.”
    The other rats looked at him, shocked, as if he’d just admitted to cowardice. Beefs One, Two, and Three made rather rude noises.
    Then the ferocious Truffle stood tall on her haunches, gave Swiss a disparaging glance, and said, “If Prince Char so orders, I shall swim through the filthiest sewer water and run through fire to fulfill our mission.”
    I smiled at Swiss’s annoyed expression before cautioning the others, “My brave followers, do not forget that in the contest for rulership that made me prince, Royal Councillor Swiss came in second, and his courage is unquestioned. This moment is an example of how he wisely protects us. He would never tell us to undergo a hardship—such as swimming this foul current—unless it were absolutely necessary. But, Swiss,” I said to him, “we must go by water, for it is faster by far than we can