The Princess and the Hound Read Online Free PDF Page A

women who werepart of his mother’s court had always given her distance and time to spend on her own. But Lady Fittle was everywhere, at the queen’s side at every dinner, bringing breakfast to her bedchamber, helping her dress, meeting her for lunch in the gardens.
    George remembered Lady Fittle’s staring pointedly at him when he raced by after a stray mouse Cook Elin had screeched at. George had cornered the mouse, tucked her into the pocket of his vest, and smiled broadly at his mother. He knew her name was Cheep and that she liked bread better than cheese. He had known he could not speak to his mother aloud of what he had done, but he had thought she would see the bulge and be proud.
    Not only was she not proud, but her eyes were bright with terror that George could not understand. She was queen. How could she be afraid in her own castle?
    Then George saw Lady Fittle, and he knew that he must not give the mouse any reason to show herself. He held himself very still.
    “And this is Prince George?” said Lady Fittle in a tart tone.
    “Yes. This is my son,” said his mother. In her voice was a trace of herself, but only that much.
    “He is very…active, is he not?”
    “He is a dear boy,” said George’s mother.
    “So much like you there is hardly a breath of hisfather in him. Do you not agree?” asked Lady Fittle.
    “Oh, there is enough of each of us in him. Neither the king nor I would wish for more.”
    “Come, let me touch his fine hair,” said Lady Fittle, reaching.
    “No!” the queen stepped in her way.
    Lady Fittle answered in a pinched voice. “So protective of him. If he is to be king one day, you must let him go a bit more, my queen.”
    I never want to be king, thought George. Never.
    “I only meant that you would get yourself dirty, Lady Fittle,” said George’s mother, apparently calm, but George could see how her lips twitched at the edges.
    “Ah. Well, then, I must thank you for your concern, must I not?” asked Lady Fittle with false gratitude and a slight inclination of the head.
    George thought the encounter was over and waited for Lady Fittle to leave.
    But Lady Fittle had one more comment, as much a threat as any George had ever heard. “Another time, my prince,” she said, then nodded and went on her way.
    George breathed deeply and looked to his mother to offer him comfort, but she sighed and moved a step away without another word.
    “Mother.” George called her back.
    “Not now, George,” she said.
    “I only wanted to know—what is that lady’s name?” said George.
    His mother told him as she walked away. “Lady Fittle of the south.”
    George had to hear the rest of it later, from the gossip that was passed in the kitchens and by the hearth fire among the guards. Lady Fittle was from the southernmost reaches of the kingdom, and she had been sent as a spy. But no one said a spy for whom. Sarrey? The war was over now.
    Nonetheless George was careful to watch his mother as often as he could, to make sure that Lady Fittle did not poison her or stab her in the heart with a dagger, as he had heard in stories that spies sometimes did.
    Lady Fittle never so much as grazed his mother’s arm. The queen was very careful about that, George noticed. Though they were often together, the queen held herself apart. George was puzzled. If Lady Fittle was a dangerous woman, then why would his mother allow her in the castle at all?
    George began to think that it was his father’s fault, in part because the king seemed utterly oblivious of Lady Fittle’s role in his mother’s discomfort. Could the king not see the way the queen hated to be with Lady Fittle? Could he not see that she needed to be alone? And why did he not allow her time anymore to visit the stables, to be with the animals…and her son?
    The very next morning George arrived in his mother’s bedchamber to save her. He had decided to throw a fit and demand that she go with him to the stables again.Then they could go