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

whispered.
    â€œPlease forgive me if I don’t rise to greet you,” Mozzarella apologized. “I have had a bit of trouble with that lately, Your Highness. What brings you here?”
    â€œMy brave companions and I are on a quest to discover whatever we may about the succession to the human throne. We wish to eavesdrop on Good King Tumtry and his son, Geoffrey.”
    â€œGood heavens, why?” She widened her dark eyes at me. “What could they possibly say that would be of interest?”
    Swiss and the five warriors murmured at this. But the princess meant no disrespect; she was just too self-absorbed to care for anything but her own indulgence. I silenced them with a wave of my tail. “Princess Mozzarella, I only wish to determine whether the son of Good King Tumtry is fit to rule. Have you heard any tattle about it?”
    â€œDear, dear Prince Char, I have no concern about the affairs of humans. None whatsoever. Yet I grant you safe conduct through my realm, to do whatever you wish, as long as you don’t take any loot.”
    â€œThat is just and kind,” I said with a bow.
    Mozzarella heaved a sigh. “Ah, Prince Char, you are so very dashing. Are you sure you did not come hither to court me, and reunite the Northern and Southern Rat Realms under one banner?”
    I avoided looking at Swiss. “Alas, dear Princess,” I said in the smoothest voice I could manage, “I am already pledged to another.”
    What? How had those words come out of my mouth? And why did the image of Rose de Lancastyr come to mind when I said them?
    â€œYou are not!” Swiss said in a low, low voice.
    â€œIt’s the only way to get out of this without offending her,” I whispered.
    He grumbled, “This is how gossip starts.”
    After further exchanges of pleasantries and some stupendous snacks, Mozzarella at last sent us off to seek Prince Geoffrey in the largest ballroom, where tonight’s event was no doubt taking place. Once again, we had the little gray rat to guide us.

 
    C INDERELLA
    The day of the ball had arrived and, with it, a thousand chores.
    â€œCinderella!” Cook shouted from the scullery. “Where is that egg-white mask for the mistress? Pye tells me her maid is still waiting for it!”
    â€œAlmost ready! I have only to add the crushed strawberries.” My stomach gurgled with hunger as I vigorously whisked the eggs in a wooden basin. I knew my stepmother would be asking next for cucumber slices to lay upon her eyelids so as to reduce their puffiness, and goose-fat salve for her dry hands. I would gladly have eaten what Wilhemina was about to put on her skin, but fine foods like cucumbers and strawberries were not wasted on menials like myself.
    The entire household belowstairs had been toiling for hours to help prepare for the upcoming extravaganza, in addition to our regular tasks. As there were so few of us, the load was heavy.
    Yet my spirits were light. For while I labored, I wondered at the miraculous events of the night before. The rats, the mice, the gown … And to add marvel upon marvel, this morning the pretty, feminine white rat had awoken me by dropping a necklace of huge square emeralds on the floor by my cot. No doubt, the ornate (if rather dirty) piece of jewelry had been stolen long ago from another Lancastyr ancestor.
    This evening I would escape my imprisonment, if only for one night. And who knew what I might accomplish?
    I mixed the smashed strawberries into the beaten egg whites and poured the whole into a small silver creamer. I then rushed it over to the lady’s maid, who stood impatiently tapping her foot outside the kitchen’s arched doorway. She would never enter the realm where food was prepared; she considered it beneath her. She snatched the creamer from me without a word of thanks and flounced away to attend to her mistress.
    â€œAs snooty as a duchess, that one,” Pye remarked, passing by