Royal Quarry by Charlotte Rahn-Lee Read Free Book Online Page B

past few days had followed him, trusted him, come to him, did not now seem to know he was there. Even when Albert was angry with him there had been a connection between them: they had been alone together. In company Manning felt awkward, cast off. He was angry with himself for feeling this way. He had no right to expect any attention from the prince. But he wanted some. I might never be alone with him again , thought Manning, and the thought made him sad.
    One of the grooms took charge of Albert, helping him onto a horse, ordering some of the riders to accompany him back to the castle. Manning had no horse, and no one was going to dismount for him, so he watched Albert ride off before beginning to follow on foot. As he was leaving the clearing the groom in charge stopped him.
    “The king will want to speak to you,” he said.
    Manning simply nodded.
    By the time he got back to the castle Albert had long since arrived, so there was no way to see him. If only I could speak to him , thought Manning. He didn’t know what he would say or what he hoped to hear, but he knew he didn’t want their last interaction to be that confused time in the clearing. He imagined Albert sending for him. He imagined himself on guard somewhere in the castle, Albert happening to walk by.
    In the middle of these fantasies Manning returned to his room. It was small and simple, with one window and a mat on the floor to serve as a bed. He had been at the castle long enough to have earned his own room, which suited him well. There were few servants with whom Manning had more than a nodding acquaintance, and he generally preferred to spend time alone. He sat down on the mat and almost immediately lay down. He hadn’t realized how exhausted he was. As he lay in his bed, with his body truly still for the first time in days, Manning’s thoughts slid into clarity. Why should I wait for a chance encounter? he thought. I’m sure I can contrive a way to come to Albert in his room. Manning laughed at the idea. After his betrayal, deceit and abduction, he could hardly worry about Albert finding him impudent.
    There was one thing he should think about before he considered imposing himself on Albert. Sometime soon, someone was going to come and tell him to go see the king. He should be more concerned about what he knew would be an interrogation, whether or not overt violence would be used. But at the moment he couldn’t bring himself to worry about his own fate. He had done what he’d needed to do to protect Albert, and that was the most important thing. Thus, when the brusque knock came at his door, Manning was thinking not of lies to tell the king, but of what he might say to Albert and how the prince might answer him.
     
     
    I T WAS two days after his interview with his father that Albert saw Manning again. The prince was sitting listlessly at his window in the evening, a volume of Ovid open, unheeded, in front of him. There was a discreet knock at the door. Albert, thinking it was one of the servants come to tend to his fire, called for the visitor to come in. But it was Manning who opened the door and stood somewhat sheepishly on the threshold. Albert’s heart quickened. He’d realized over the past two days just how much his life was lacking in quiet, broad-chested men with large, gentle hands.
    “Come in!” he said, his overzealous welcome trying to compensate for the embarrassment he suddenly felt at the ostentation of his room. He had never paid much heed to the lush velvet curtains, the plush rug with its intricate patterns, and the gold designs inlaid into his bedposts, but now he felt that they were far too much. He wished he and Manning were back in the forest. Manning took a step forward and closed the door.
    “Your Highness,” he started, “I’ve come to apologize.” His gaze was directed downwards, his voice crisp and formal.
    “You’ve been punished by my father for disobeying his commands, and now you’re here to be punished by