A Hidden Magic

Copyright © 1985 by Vivian Vande Velde

Illustrations © 1985 by Trina Schart Hyman

All rights reserved. For information about permission to reproduce selections from this book, write to [email protected] or to Permissions, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt Publishing Company, 3 Park Avenue, 19th Floor, New York, New York 10016.

hmhbooks.com

First published by Crown Publishers, Inc. 1985

The Library of Congress has cataloged the print edition as follows:

Vande Velde, Vivian.

A hidden magic/by Vivian Vande Velde; Illustrated by

Trina Schart Hyman

p. cm.

Magic Carpet Books.

Summary: Lost in a magic forest and separated from her prince, Princess Jennifer seeks help from a kindly young sorcerer in battling an evil witch.

ISBN 978-0-15-201200-7

[I. Fantasy.] I. Hyman. Trina Schart, ill II. Title.

PZ7.V2773Hi 1997

[Fic]—DC20 96-42014

eISBN 978-0-547-41682-3

v2.0421

OTHER BOOKS BY VIVIAN VANDE VELDE

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A Well-Timed Enchantment

Once Upon a Test: Three Light Tales of Love

For Jim

prince, sorcerer, and husband

Jennifer

ONCE UPON A TIME —before kings and queens were replaced by an act of Congress and when kissing a frog still sometimes resulted in more than a case of warts—there lived a young princess named Jennifer.

Now Jennifer was not your average beautiful princess living in a magnificent palace. In fact, she was actually rather plain and shy, with the chubby, good-natured kind of face parents tend to call nice. And as for the magnificent palace—the kingdom over which Jennifer’s father reigned was very tiny, and the nicest thing that could be said about the old castle was that it hadn’t fallen down on anyone yet.

One morning in early spring Jennifer was lying on a sun-warmed rock by the river. She had been helping wash the castle linens, but the servants had wandered off while the clothes were drying, and she could no longer even hear them.

She had her eyes closed and was smiling. Then the king invited the whole kingdom to the ball, she whispered. She couldn’t place exactly where she had read that, but remembered the drawing that went with it—a huge room decorated with gaily-colored lanterns and crowded with young people dancing and laughing.

A cloud drifted over the sun and the air became uncomfortably chilly. Jennifer sat up and sighed.

It wasn’t that her father wouldn’t give a party for her—Jennifer was his only child and he doted on her. The problem was that there were so few people around who were her age. Young people had a tendency to drift away, looking for the chance to make their fortunes in larger, livelier kingdoms.

Jennifer sighed again. She sometimes felt that she had been born into a kingdom of old people and young children.

She sighed a third sigh, the loudest and longest yet, and then Jennifer turned her attention back to the laundry. She had just decided that one of her father’s nightshirts needed further cleaning and was busily at work scrubbing when she heard someone approaching.

She looked up and saw the most splendid man she had ever seen anywhere, picture books included. He had curly golden hair, deep blue eyes, and very broad shoulders. His suit was gleaming white satin, and he had a marvelous maroon velvet cloak with fur trim. Everywhere about him there were flashes and sparkles as the sun reflected on gold buckles and rings.

His horse was white also, outfitted like its owner in maroon studded with gold. Both horse and rider carried themselves as if they expected to elicit breathless admiration.

Jennifer jumped to her feet and ran her hand through her hair. The stranger stopped several feet away from her and flashed a brilliant smile. Hi, there. I’m Prince Alexander, he said, then added, the king’s son.

She could tell by the way he said it that he wasn’t referring to a small woodland kingdom like her own, but one of the vast and mighty lands told of in song and story. She made an awkward curtsy while trying to keep her hand over one of the larger smudges on her dress.

The prince smiled graciously. My horse seems to have lost a shoe. Could you tell me how to get to the nearest blacksmith?

Jennifer finally remembered to breathe, then shook her head. He’s not here, she said. Then, seeing the prince’s smile start to broaden at this obvious fact, she stammered, I mean, he’s not in town. He’s gone on a fishing trip.

Well, the second nearest, then, the prince suggested.

I’m sorry, there’s only the one. It’s a small village, she added apologetically.

I guess so. When will he be back?

Two days.

Two? the prince cried. Days? Very unprofessional attitude there. What am I supposed to do? He tapped his foot impatiently in its stirrup and glared at her.

Jennifer gulped. I’m sorry. You’ll just have to wait.

Alexander sighed loudly. Is this village of yours large enough to have an inn? I’ll need a place to stay.

Oh, I’m sure my father can find a room for you.

He’s the innkeeper?

Jennifer looked down at her bare toes in the mud and said softly, No, he’s the king.

Oh, the prince said, looking at her more closely than before. He cleared his throat. Uhm, sorry. He smiled weakly and glanced away.

Oh, no, she answered hastily, the misunderstanding’s all—she looked away, afraid to see in his eyes the reflection of her drabness and the shabbiness of her surroundings—my fault.

There were several seconds of silence before she introduced herself and added, Here, I can show you the way up the hill to the castle.

She hurriedly threw the still-damp laundry into the wicker carrying basket, and Alexander nudged his horse out of her way as she scrambled up the slope that led back onto the road.

Jennifer tried to think of something clever to say. But she’d have to be quick, for she was rapidly running out of breath from the weight of the basket and trying to keep up with the pace of Alexander’s horse. She finally decided to ask what brought him to her father’s land. She didn’t add that it was a rare occasion, indeed, when a stranger came through—and that when someone did, he was usually either lost or a traveling merchant or, in most cases, both.

I’m looking for a wife, the prince said.

Now the idea of going about the countryside searching for a suitable bride was considered somewhat old-fashioned even back then, but Jennifer thought it was rather romantic, so she didn’t say anything.

You see, Alexander started and then interrupted himself. You look like you’re having trouble with that basket.

Well, a bit, Jennifer admitted. Beside the fact that the basket was heavy, one wet sleeve of her father’s nightshirt slapped the back of her leg with every step she took.

Whoa, slow down, Alexander told the horse. Genevieve can’t keep up. Better?

Jennifer, she corrected, though she felt it was probably presumptuous to contradict such an obviously important person. Yes, much better.