Royal Ransom (7 page)

“Hi,” I said.

She jumped to her feet and spun around. “Do you always sneak up on people like that?” she demanded.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you.”

She took a deep breath and let out a loud sigh. “I imagine I am perhaps a trifle jumpy. Haven't you been able to sleep either?”

“I was sleeping okay. I heard some noise … out here by the fire.”

“I am frightfully sorry if I disturbed you.”

“It could have been anything,” I said. “I'm surprised you're up, though. I thought after all that paddling you'd be dead tired.”

“I must admit, I'd assumed the same thing,” she admitted. “At first I believed I was having trouble falling asleep because it was still light out.”

“That does take some getting used to,” I said. “End of June, we only have about an hour when the sun is completely down and it's really dark.”

“That would be amazing.”

“Of course in December we get the same thing in reverse, barely any light.”

“Well, even when it got dark tonight I still wasn't able to sleep. I thought I would come out here and look at the stars.”

My gaze followed the little bits of burning ash and embers up into the sky. The smoke from the fire was helping to keep the mosquitoes away. There was a slim slice of moon directly overhead, surrounded by thousands of stars.

“I am not accustomed to seeing such an array of stars,” she said.

“You don't go out at night very often?” I asked.

“There are simply no stars to see. Only a few are visible—the North Star, sometimes the rest of the Big Dipper, perhaps a dozen or so more.”

“How's that possible?” I asked. “We'd both be looking up at the same sky.”

“Same sky, but where I usually stand the sky is obscured by pollution.”

“There's that much smoke?”

“There is a great deal of smoke and smog, but it is mainly
light
pollution that is the culprit.”

“Wouldn't
heavy
pollution be a bigger problem?” I asked.

She laughed slightly and then stopped herself. “No, no, I am referring to the effects caused by all the artificial lights in a city area. Things like car headlights, street-lights, lights from houses, businesses and offices. They act to create a haze that hides all but the brightest stars,” she explained.

“Sort of like how the stars are up in the sky during the day but the sun's light blocks them out,” I said.

“Exactly. It is never truly dark in a city, even in the middle of the night. Not like it is here. Away from this fire it's pitch-black. I've been staring out into the surrounding forest. It is a wonder how little I can actually see.”

We sat in silence. The only sound was the crackling of the fire. I got up and threw on a couple more pieces of wood. A cascade of flickering ash rose skyward.

“You are very fortunate to live in such a place,” she said.

“I hadn't really thought much about it until this last year.”

She gave me a questioning look.

“I was away at school,” I explained.

“There is no school in your village?”

“There is for the little kids, but once you hit grade seven you have to head south if you want to keep going.”

“You went to Edmonton?”

“I didn't say way down south. Just to Fort McMurray. That's about a two-hour flight from here.”

“And did your father fly you in every day?”

“I wish. I lived down there. There are dormitories. It's a residential school.”

“Did you come home for weekends?”

“I did sometimes because my father could fly me in, but for most kids it's often months before they get to go home. Some can't even go home for Christmas.”

“That is so unfortunate, but I imagine there is no alternative.”

I shrugged. “Some kids just quit school.”

“You mean they don't finish the higher forms?”

“Do you mean grades?”

She nodded.

“Some drop out partway through grade seven. They just go home and don't come back.”

There were times I'd been tempted myself—to stay home and forget about school, pick up work in the village like some kids did and never leave. But my family would have killed me! And anyway, I had other plans. Big plans.

“But surely they must realize that their education is essential to pursue higher learning and professional status.”

“What?” I asked.

She didn't answer right away. “To go to university and get a good job, you need to go to school.”

“University isn't for everybody, and lots of jobs don't take much schooling. Ray's only got grade seven and he has a pretty good business. Trappers don't need any education. My mother's only got grade ten and her art sells really well.”

“I was not intending to slight anybody,” she said.

“You just don't know how hard it is to be away from your family like that,” I said.

“I do know.”

“I don't mean like on a vacation for a few days.”

“I know
exactly
what you mean,” she said. “I also attend a residential school.”

“You?”

“For the past three school years, since I was ten years old.”

“But you live in a city. There must be schools around.”

“Many. Dozens. Perhaps hundreds.”

“So why don't you go to one of those?” I asked.

“It's tradition.”

“What does that mean?”

“My mother and my grandmother and her mother before that all attended the same institution.”

“Institution? I thought we were talking about schools.”

She laughed. “Apparently they're the same thing.”

“And what about your brother?”

“He will be leaving home for the first time this fall.”

“At least you'll have some family around then,” I said.

“My school is exclusively a girls' school, and he'll be attending a boys' academy in Scotland.”

“Is your school in Scotland?”

“England.”

“So you two won't even be in the same
country
?”

She smiled. “Now that you have become acquainted with my brother, you can surely appreciate the benefits of that arrangement.”

We both laughed.

“You are going to continue your education, aren't you?”

“I don't have a choice. I want to be a pilot.”

“Like your father.”

“Exactly. How about you? What do you want to be when you… ?” I let the sentence trail off as I suddenly realized who I was talking to. “I guess you'll be a queen.”

“Actually, I'll still be a princess. The crown passes to the firstborn male. Women get to be queen only if there are no boys in the direct line of descent. My brother's wife— assuming he finds somebody daft enough to wed him—will become the queen.”

“That doesn't seem fair,” I said. I was thinking that she might make a pretty great queen, and that Andrew was likely to be a royal pain in the neck once he really got a chance to throw his weight around. “Doesn't it bother you that your little brother is going to get the top job?”

“Honestly? No. Being the monarch is not an easy life. Ask my father if you don't believe me. It's a tremendous responsibility, and it comes with a lot of hard work. Not to mention the endless public appearances and visits from heads of state. What I'm hoping to be is a princess with a degree in medicine.”

“A doctor?”

“A pediatrician, to be exact. I want to work with children.”

“That's a good thing to do. There's always kids, and they do seem to get sick a lot.”

“But I wouldn't want to work in a big city. The cities already have enough doctors and hospitals. I'd like to work in an area that does not have many resources.”

“Like up here?” I asked. “There aren't many doctors here.”

“I imagine this is exactly the sort of place I am thinking of.”

“My dad flies patients out and doctors in all the time,” I said.

“The helping part appeals to me, but I am not sure I could handle the flying.”

“Lots of people don't like flying,” I said reassuringly.

“Did your father tell you how scared I was when we flew in?” she asked nervously.

“Not really,” I lied. “Was it hard for you?”

She nodded. “Afraid so. I'm already dreading the flight out.”

“My father's really a great pilot,” I said.

“I am sure he is,” she said. “And I am equally sure you will be, too.”

“Thanks. I can already fly.”

“You can?”

“My dad lets me take the stick all the time. He says I'm a natural.”

She didn't say anything, and once again we sat in silence. Maybe I shouldn't have mentioned the plane—it had to be hard for her to be reminded of her mother's death all the time.

“Sometimes people outgrow their fears,” she said softly. “Perhaps one day you will be flying me into those communities.”

“I could do that,” I said, and then I turned so I was facing her directly. “I bet you're going to be as good a doctor as I'm going to be a pilot.”

“Thank you, Jamie, it's sweet of you to say so. …”

Chapter Seven

T
HE BRIGHT SUN FILTERED
through the material of the tent. I sat up. What time was it? Ray was already gone. I pulled myself out of my sleeping bag and started to crawl out of the tent when Ray—or at least his legs—appeared at the opening. He bent down, and in each hand he held a steaming cup.

“Good
afternoon,
” he said. “About time you got up.”

“What time is it?”

“Almost seven. Coffee?” He offered me one of the cups.

“Thanks.” I took a sip. It was good and hot. “I didn't mean to sleep in.”

“That's okay. It's not like anybody else is up yet.”

“They're all still asleep?”

“Not surprising. Fresh air and lots of exercise can really tire a person out.” He paused. “And sitting up half the night by the fire talking doesn't help either.”

“Did we wake you up?”

“I heard you two. Did you have a nice little chat?”

“I guess so.”

“Guess?” he asked, sarcastically. “Weren't you there?”

“Of course. It
was
a nice chat.”

“How old is that little princess?” Ray asked.

“Thirteen. The same as me.”

“That's what I thought. You two are getting along real good,” Ray said with a smirk. “
Real
good.”

“I always get along with people,” I said. “Is there anything wrong with that?”

“Nothing, nothing at all.” He paused. “I just think it's all so … so … sweet.”

“Sweet?”

“Yeah, sweet. I just have one question.”

“And that is?”

“If you and the Princess got married, would I have to call you Your Highness, or Your Majesty or King Jamie or—”

“Actually, it would be Prince Jamie.”

We turned around. It was Albert. Nigel stood just behind him and off to the side.

“A male who marries into the royal bloodline can never be king.”

“He was just joking around!” I protested.

“Since a king outranks a queen, it would not be possible for an outsider—somebody who has merely married into the family—to be the actual head of state. Thus, the highest rank you could ever acquire would be that of prince.”

“That's too bad, Jamie,” Ray said. “I think King Jamie has a real ring to it.”

I wanted to tell him to shut up, but I knew that would only encourage him to keep going.

“So that would make him your boss, right?” Ray asked Albert.

“And yours as well, technically, since Canada is a constitutional monarchy. Though your laws are governed
by your constitution, Britain's king is your formal head of state, and all Canadian citizens are loyal subjects of the Crown.”

“That'll be the day when I take orders from any king,” Ray said.

“Actually,” Albert said, “I was hoping to speak to you about that.”

“About what?” Ray set his jaw and put his hands on his hips, like he was ready for an argument.

“The Prince spoke to me last night,” Albert said.

“He does a lot of talking, doesn't he?” Ray observed.

“He mentioned that he felt that you had been, how can I say this, rather rough with him prior to our canoe landing.”

“I just told him to gather some wood,” Ray snapped.

“And he also said that while he was out with Jamie collecting the wood that you threatened to throw him to a grizzly bear,” Albert added, looking directly at me.

“I didn't say that!” I protested. After all, I'd only said that I'd let one eat him if it was chasing the two of us.

“So what's your point?” Ray said loudly.

“Please keep your voice down. I would prefer that our conversation remain private, and—”

“I don't care what you want. I'll treat him, and
you,
the way that—”

“Please, there is no need to be angry,” Albert said.

“You think you can tell me how to behave and I don't have the right to be angry?” Ray demanded.

“No, you don't understand,” Albert said.

“I understand pretty darn good!”

“No, you don't. I wanted you to know that I … we … the Prince's father and I, hope that you will continue to treat him as you did last night.”

“Nobody is going to tell me I have to take guff from any snot-nosed little brat just because—” Ray suddenly stopped. “What did you just say?”

“It is the opinion of the Prince's father that his son has become very much a
little snot-nosed brat
.”

“He said that?” I asked.

“Not those words exactly, but it is rather obvious to anyone who has spent more than a few moments in Andrew's presence,” Albert said.