The Princess and the Bear - Mette Ivie Harrison [41]
Richon approached her cautiously, his hands held out to show he meant no harm.
“All is well,” he murmured. “All is well.”
At the first sound of his voice, the girl startled and froze, her eyes darting back and forth between Richon and Chala. As Richon came closer, she leaped to her feet, clearly terrified.
“I only wish to speak with you,” he said. “Please.”
The girl stared at him.
Richon half expected her to run away. He knew he did not look his best, in his grimy clothes, with a five-day beard that itched. “My name is Richon,” he told her kindly. “And this is Chala.”
Chala nodded.
The girl looked away, as if embarrassed.
She could not know him as the king, Richon thought. He was too well disguised and she lived too remotely.
“What is your name?” Richon asked her.
“Halee,” she said. Her eyes narrowed. “You haven’t any magic, either, do you?” she asked.
“No,” said Richon, surprised she guessed the truth so easily. But he was discovering just how little about magic he did understand.
He had always believed magic was unusual and unnatural, something no member of the royal family would ever touch. But here with this girl, hidden in a forest far from other humans, he began to wonder.
He remembered many a time when his father had left the palace without any men to accompany him. No guards, no hunting party. When he came back, Richon had noticed the scent of animals strong on him.
And his mother? She had gone “south to visit relatives” on more than one occasion, and yet she had been born an only child. When she returned, she had a gleam in her eye that made him jealous. Why should she enjoy herself so much without him?
He looked at this girl, the only one without magic among her friends. How alone she must feel, knowing the truth about them and about herself.
He had always sensed there was something not quite good enough about himself. Had his parents lied to him to spare him that?
“I dream sometimes about what animal I would change into,” the girl said. “I think it would be a fish. Because I don’t belong with them.” Her face was pinched around the lips. “What do you think I would be?” she asked.
“Oh, you would make a fine fish,” said Richon sincerely.
“And you—what would you be if you had magic?”
“A bear,” said Richon without hesitation.
The girl looked him up and down again, and giggled.
Richon struggled to look affronted.
“You don’t look much like a bear,” she said.
Richon rubbed at his beard. He supposed he didn’t look very big or ferocious.
“And her?” Halee asked, pointing to Chala. “She has magic, doesn’t she?”
Richon sighed. “After a fashion,” he said. She must still smell of the wild man’s magic, though why it wasn’t on him Richon couldn’t guess.
“I think she would be a hound,” said Halee.
Richon started at this, then said, “Why do you think that?”
The girl shrugged. “It just seems right,” she said.
Richon looked at Chala, but he could see very little of the hound remaining in her, and only because he knew her so well. The alertness of her eyes, the way her body moved, the sensitivity of her nose.
“Do you hate them, then, the ones who have magic? Like I do?” she asked.
“Sometimes,” he admitted.
“And you’re afraid of them, too?”
He nodded. “Or at least I used to be. Now it is not as bad as it was.”
“Because you’re grown and don’t care anymore,” said the girl.
“Perhaps,” Richon admitted.
“They used to offer to turn me into an animal so I could play with them,” the girl said.
“But you wouldn’t let them,” Richon guessed.
She shook her head. “’Course not. How could I? That’s like when you’re little and they give you a head start. It’s not a real race then.” She thought a moment, then bit her lip and added, “I never knew, either, if they could do it. What if they were teasing and I told them I cared?”
Richon could understand that fear.
“I didn’t want to play their stupid game, anyway,” she said,