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Archie shook his head. “Leo doesn’t really belong to anyone.” And the cat was rarely ever “sweet.” Or maybe Leo only liked girls and small children? Archie had heard of certain animals preferring one gender over the other.
“Leo? You named him Leo?” Ainsley made a sudden breathy sound and turned away, taking back her hand. “Sorry, I think I should go.”
Archie took a step after her. Something inside him longed to hold her, to comfort her, no matter how brief of time they had conversed with each other. He couldn’t help it. Ainsley’s smile drew him in like honey, but even the threat of her tears left him gasping for air. Though, the guard was looking at him like he might put a stop to it if Archie pushed any further.
“Did I say something to upset you, Your Highness?”
“No.” Ainsley waved her hand behind her shoulder and forced more lightness into the words. “There are just a lot of memories here, but I think it will be good for me—for both of us. Just keep practicing with that bow. And maybe you can read with me next time at the Charity House? That has to be a fair enough trade. If I come out here to teach you to use the bow once a week, and you give me some help with the children? Not that I mind the children. I just . . .” Her words trailed off, but Archie could hear it again. She was tired of being alone.
And somehow, she had decided he was the companion she wanted. It seemed a mystical, magical thing, but he couldn’t deny her.
“I’ll be there.” Archie might not be able to do much, but he could at least make sure the princess didn’t have to read or shoot alone again.
Chapter 10
Catfishing
His plans were working so well now that Leo had impressed even himself. Princess Ainsley was teaching Archie how to shoot the bow, and Leo hadn’t even had to try to talk to her. She understood the plan like they already shared the same mind. He might have believed the pair of them had enacted countless schemes together.
Familiar but not.
Another piece to the puzzle that was his brilliant brain.
And soon, with Leo’s continued help, their game bag was full of enough hares to pay off Rupert and then take another installment of coin to the king. The elder knight looked up at them as he took in the payment and recorded the sums. “You’re the boy who brought the quail.”
Archie ducked his head. “Yes, sir.”
“The king mentioned how much he enjoyed them.”
“He ate them himself?” Archie perked up so quickly it was almost comical—enough to make a cat laugh. “And the princess? Did she mention me?”
Sir Orrick raised an eyebrow in a way that seemed both reproachful and amused. “Now why would the princess mention you?”
Archie shifted back. “No reason . . . sir.”
“I see.” He chuckled. “You got spirit, that’s for sure. I didn’t mention it last time—most of the common boys get scared off just by the silver alone—but if you really want a hunting charter, you’re going to need another huntsman or knight to sign off with you. Someone to show you your way around the Darkwood and make sure you don’t lose yourself to a faerie circle on your first hunt.”
“Oh,” Archie said, looking back at the cat. But Leo hadn’t remembered that part either—it wasn’t something he ever had to deal with before. He was sure they—or rather he—could make a plan for it anyway, just as long as the boy didn’t start sulking again.
For now, Archie seemed curious. “So, it’s just like another apprenticeship?”
The gamemaster shrugged. “Everyone starts somewhere, lad. Don’t tell me you’re afraid of a bit of work.”
“No. I’m not.” But as Archie said the words, it was clear there was something he was afraid of. Something that came from years of being forced to live far too sensibly. “So, you don’t think . . . Is being a huntsman like being a gambler?”
“A gambler?” Sir Orrick paused, scratching his graying mustache. “I suppose we are all gamblers in one sense or another. A farmer can’t say for certain how his crops will grow. A miller doesn’t always know if there will be grain. And five years back, I can’t say any of us expected the plague to spring up on us the way it did. But keep being resourceful. Move with the punches, and a real man will find that there are some risks that are smarter than others—play to your strengths and improve your skills so the odds swing a little more to your favor.”
“And I can improve my odds as a huntsman?”
“I don’t see why not,” the old knight said. “Some risks just call to a man, and you already have some of the right eyes looking your way. I imagine you’ll find a sponsor soon enough. Maybe try for a bounty next time, if you’re looking for something with a bit more color.”
“A bounty?”
“Sure.” Sir Orrick’s gravel-voice cracked as he rushed his words, called in by the youthful sense of adventure. “Didn’t you know that lots of the more specialized huntsmen take bounties? If one of the forest beasts gets too close to the town, or some dark spellcaster accidentally makes his morning porridge into sentient acidic goo?”
Archie brightened at the thought. “Monster hunters. Like in the stories?”
“The stories come from somewhere, boy. And the lesser faerie beasts mill about the town more often than most people think.” The man pointed to a notice board behind them. “Strictly speaking, I can’t show you this. The larger beasts are off limits to someone like you—same as the deer. But a garden gnome or even a water imp? A clever small-game hunter like yourself could easily bag himself a few of them. Let people know you’re serious. Light, I might be tempted to sign for you myself, if only I were a few years younger.”
