Free Royal Quarry by Charlotte Rahn-Lee Page B

to trust him, to fall back into him and rest on that strength he had felt before, when Manning had taken his coldness, his blows, and finally his weight and still freed him from the fallen tree. He was steady in a way that invited confidence. Is that why my father chose him?
    “Manning?” Albert liked the man’s name. It rolled smoothly out of his mouth and hung in the air around him.
     His companion turned to face him.
    “Have you been on many hunting trips?” Albert asked.
    “A fair number, Your Highness,” said Manning.
    “Stag hunting?”
    “Yes.”
    “Did you….” Albert considered the best way to phrase his plea. He couldn’t afford to sound as desperate as he felt. “Did you ever track and shoot anything yourself?”
    “Small game, yes.”
    “Nothing… big?”
    Manning looked at him with a pair of dark, intense eyes that Albert couldn’t read. Albert tried to affect more nonchalance by playing with a leaf.
    Finally Manning answered, “It’s against the law for any but your father and those he invites to hunt deer in this forest.”
    Albert tried not to look disappointed. As Manning turned back to the fire and worked on lighting it with a tinderbox, Albert ripped little pieces off the leaf and scattered them about himself. He was startled out of his unhappy reverie by Manning’s voice.
    “Your Highness, have you given any thought to dinner?”
    No, damn it, he hadn’t. He’d forgotten he was supposed to hunt to sustain himself as well. They were going to starve to death in the woods waiting for Albert to shoot straight.
    “No, I….” Albert got up and began looking about for his bow.
    “I don’t mean to presume,” Manning’s deep, clear voice interrupted, “but you’ve had a tiring journey. If you’d like, I could find us a meal.”
    There it was, that quiet strength, offering itself to Albert, tempting him to trust this man despite the coat of arms worn over his heart. At least in this Albert had no choice. Awoken by the mention of supper, his hunger now pressed on him, and if he insisted on doing it himself they would never eat. With a nod of his head he relented. It felt good to give in. Be careful , Albert warned himself as the man slung his bow and quiver over his shoulder and strode quietly off into the woods.
     
     
    M ANNING returned some three quarters of an hour later with a rabbit shot cleanly through the neck. They rigged up a spit above their now roaring fire and soon enjoyed the crispy roast meat. It was pitch-black now outside the ring of light cast by their fire, and the forest made wild nighttime noises around them.
    Albert stretched out the one light blanket he had carried with him and waited for Manning to do the same. It got later and later, but the man made no motions towards going to bed. Albert’s head began to feel light.
    “Aren’t you going to sleep?” Albert asked.
    “Don’t worry about me, Your Highness,” said Manning. He was resting against the same tree Albert had sat against earlier, crouched as if, at any moment, he might spring. He reminded Albert of a giant cat: relaxed, but ready to pounce. It made him nervous. Albert never liked to sleep in a place where others were awake. When he was little, he had always sent his nurses and nannies out of the room when he was napping, and he would throw terrible fits if they refused to leave him alone. Albert considered briefly how this strong, quiet man would react to a princely tantrum, but he decided that he certainly wouldn’t come out ahead for putting on such a display.
    “You needn’t stay up on my account,” Albert offered, trying a gentler approach.
    “It’s no trouble,” answered his guard.
    I can play this game too , thought Albert. If this man wasn’t going to sleep, then neither would he. He lay down on his blanket facing the crouching figure and feigned sleep, one eye on Manning to see what he would do. He did nothing immediately, and Albert struggled to hold on to his consciousness.