The False Prince (16 page)

W
here are you going?” Mott asked as I began walking away. He was never far behind.

“To my room. My back hurts.”

“How will it look to everyone at dinner if the servant who left with Amarinda fails to return?”

“How will it look if that servant’s bandages bleed through and he drips blood on Conner’s dining table?”

“Come on,” Mott said with a sigh. “I’ll walk you to your room.”

“You don’t have to. I know the way.”

“Saving you from getting lost is not the reason I’m here. Tell me, what did you think of the betrothed princess?”

“I think she loves Darius.”

“There’s plenty of time for her to learn to love Jaron. Besides, this is the way of life for royals. They do their duty to their country, and if they are very lucky, it will sometimes bring them happiness.”

“I don’t want anyone to do their duty for me,” I grumbled. “A charade like that is not for her.”

“Conner is preparing you to wear a mask for the rest of your life,” Mott said. “It’s better that your queen pretends to love you, because if she truly did, she would only love a lie.”

That hardly made me feel better.

Errol was sitting on the bench just outside my bedroom door. He stood as he saw us coming. “Are you ill?” he asked me.

“Get me some dinner,” I growled, pushing past him to enter my room. “And no, I don’t need help dressing.”

Ironically, I did need help. My shoulders and back had stiffened over the past few hours of standing, and with every movement, I felt like my wounds might tear open again. When Errol returned with a tray of food several minutes later, he found me sitting on the floor with an unbuttoned shirt and vest.

Errol set the tray on Tobias’s desk, and then silently went to the wardrobe to gather my nightclothes. He was able to pull off my shirt without causing me too much pain and, without asking, checked my bandages. “Imogen is occupied at the dinner downstairs,” he said. “You must let me clean those wounds. They look hot.”

I leaned forward, which took less work than arguing. He soaked a towel in the alcohol and pressed it to my back. I arched it with the inevitable sting, then relaxed as it slowly passed.

“Every servant at Farthenwood knows Tobias cut you,” Errol murmured. “I’d be surprised if the master doesn’t hear of it soon.”

“The servants are mistaken. I was trying to climb out a window.”

“We hear things, Sage. More than anyone knows.”

“Then you obviously know why Roden and Tobias and I are here. Are Conner’s servants loyal to him, to this plan?”

“Shortly after you came, Conner impressed upon us the sacred nature of what he’s doing, how important it is to Carthya. To be sure, he threatened us dearly if word of his plan leaks outside Farthenwood. But he shouldn’t worry, nor should you. This is a secret we will all carry to our graves. If you are chosen as prince, I will treat you just as I would a true royal.”

With that, he finished bandaging me up. He pulled my nightclothes on and even fastened them in front, which I was more than capable of doing.

When he stood to leave, I said, “Thanks for helping tonight, Errol. Thanks for helping every night. I know I’m difficult.”

“I’ll take that as an apology, sir. Your dinner is on the desk there. Good night.”

I was in bed when Roden and Tobias came into the room. Tobias entered more quietly than usual and lay down on his bed indifferently. Roden crossed over to me and said, “Conner was furious that you didn’t return to the dining room tonight. I heard him ask Mott to come get you right now.”

I groaned. “How can he expect us to see ourselves as royalty when he treats us as slaves?”

Errol entered the room and began rummaging through my drawers. “I’m sorry, Sage, but it’s true. Conner has asked to see you. Mott is waiting outside to take you to see him.”

I winced as I rolled out of bed. Errol held up clothes for me, but I shook my head. “If he asks for me at night, he’ll find me in nightclothes.”

“It’s inappropriate,” Errol said.

“And it’s indecent of him to summon me when he knows I’m asleep!”

I opened the door to leave, but Mott blocked the doorway and shook his head at me. “I won’t bring you to the master like that. Allow Errol to dress you, or I’ll do it.”

I shut the door in his face and held out my arms to Errol, who hurried forward, clothes in hand. Minutes later, Mott was walking me, fully dressed, down to Conner’s office.

“Am I in trouble?” I asked.

“That depends on your answers to his questions.”

Conner was in the middle of writing something when we entered his office. Mott directed me to stand in front of his desk, but I sat. A minute or two passed before Conner even acknowledged I was there. Finally, he set the quill down and looked up at me.

“What did you think of her?”

“The princess?” I shrugged. “She’s beautiful. I’d heard the betrothed princess was more horse than woman.”

“Bite your words,” Conner hissed. “You’re speaking of the future queen of Carthya. That is, if the prince is found. And yes, she has most unexpectedly become a beautiful young woman. Why did she choose you to escort her out?”

“Because I told her about the spot of dirt on her face before. I think she appreciated the honesty.”

“You’re lucky she did. She might as easily have had you whipped for being disrespectful.”

“I’ve already been whipped.”

“And stabbed, I hear.”

“Mott has my story on that incident, sir.”

“A story which is probably a lie.”

“At Farthenwood, lies and truth blur together.”

“Only lies in pursuit of the truth, Sage.”

My body ached with tiredness. All I wanted was to finish this pointless conversation and go back to sleep. But there was one question I needed answered. “Why did you allow me to go with her? When you bring me to court, she’ll recognize me.”

“
If
I bring you to court. Don’t mistake my tolerance for you as any sort of favoritism. Quite the contrary.”

“My question stands, sir. Why did you allow me to go with her?”

“The possibility of her recognizing you did concern me for a moment. Then I decided you can easily explain that I kept you in hiding here until you could be presented at court. The fact that you two already met could be seen as an advantage. Now I have some questions for you.”

“I have a few more questions first.”

Conner arched an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“What if Prince Jaron is alive? Then he returns to the castle to find me sitting on his throne? I don’t think he’ll appreciate that.”

“Jaron is dead. I told you once before that I have proof of it. Besides, the pirates off the coast of Avenia are ruthless. The reason no body was ever found is because they likely destroyed everything identifiable about him. Whatever trouble he may have caused his family, the king and queen loved Jaron. The queen in particular never gave up searching for any trace of him in the years that followed. It was all in vain. I doubt he was even alive by the time his ship sunk.”

“What’s your proof?”

“I present that to the boy I choose as prince and to nobody else.”

“If you can prove Jaron’s dead, then can you also prove to the regents that Jaron survived?”

“At court, Jaron will confess that he has been hiding all these years in an orphanage, right under their noses. He went by the name of Sage or Roden or Tobias, but he has come back now to claim the throne.”

“What if another orphan steps forward to say he knew us before Jaron was killed?”

“We would say they are mistaken, and perhaps one night that orphan would disappear. Thrones have been claimed over thinner evidence than we have, Sage. Besides, my prince will have evidence of his identity.”

“What?”

Conner shook his head slightly. “I’ll save that answer until my prince is chosen, but rest assured, it is something that will identify my choice as the prince without doubt. Now to my questions. What did Princess Amarinda talk with you about after you two left?”

“She’s worried that the king’s family is dead, despite your assurances that she shouldn’t worry. She doesn’t seem to believe there’s any hope of Jaron being alive, and I don’t think she’d want him even if he were. She’s afraid, sir.”

Conner smiled. “We can use that to our advantage. Use her fear to make her more apt to accept the prince when I present him. So that even if she has doubts, she’ll accept him because she needs it to be true.”

I couldn’t hide my disdain as I glared at him. It was disgusting that he’d think so quickly of how he might benefit from her pain.

“Don’t make that face at me!” Conner cried. “How convenient it must be for you to play the pious victim when it benefits you, or to be the prince, or the servant, or the orphan! Yet I must at all times be the keeper of this unholy plan. I do not celebrate my role in Carthya’s future, but I’ve accepted it. Have you?”

Any expression vanished from my face. “Yes, sir, I have. I am your prince.”

“You think too highly of yourself. Tobias can no longer be trusted, but Roden presents some fine advantages. I believe he has been underestimated this week. He has learned more than any of you in such a short time.”

There was nothing I could say to that. He had.

Conner continued, “What I wonder is if you
want
to be the prince. I sense you battling that decision internally, perhaps because you’re afraid of the consequences of being caught, perhaps because you cannot picture yourself sitting on the throne. And yet here you are, telling me to my face that you are my prince.”

I threw out a hand, then immediately regretted the gesture when the movement pinched in my back. “Would you choose Roden, who rushes toward the throne with no thought of the consequences? He has no idea what he’s accepting. I have thought about it, Conner. And I am your prince.”

Conner clasped his hands together and a glint of triumph flickered in his eyes. “I believe that what I suspected all along was true. All you ever needed was the proper discipline and the right motivation. I can see that you are finally bending to my will, and that pleases me.”

It did not please me. Tired as I was, I still had plenty of energy to be angry with his smugness. However, I simply asked, “Can I go now?”

He hesitated a moment, then nodded, and I left without looking at him. As Mott escorted me back to my room, he tried to make conversation, but I ignored him. Conner’s words still rang in my ears. With every step closer to the throne I took, I felt myself bending too. I only hoped I could get to the end before Conner broke me completely.

A
marinda left with her entourage early the next morning and our tutoring schedule resumed. Roden’s reading wasn’t fluent, but he was amazing, considering how recently he’d begun learning. I thought he would be good enough to get by if Conner chose him as prince.

Mott pulled me out of Mistress Havala’s class to work on sword fighting with him, even though I insisted I couldn’t fight with my back in bandages.

“If we wait for a full healing, it’ll be too late,” he said. “We’ll both use wooden swords today.” He took one for himself and tossed me the other. I jumped away from it and it landed in the dirt.

“Afraid of a wooden sword?” Mott teased.

“Just demonstrating my skills in evading an attack,” I said, a grin tugging at the edge of my mouth. “Impressed?”

“No. Pick it up.”

When I complied, Mott stepped me through the basic defensive moves. “If you can’t attack like Jaron, at least I can teach you to defend yourself.”

He thrust his sword at me. I moved mine in an attempt to block it, but his went right past mine and jabbed my ribs.

“You’re worse than when I last saw you,” Mott said.

“You shouldn’t have whipped me so hard.”

“You shouldn’t have let yourself get stabbed.”

I smiled and swung my sword low to the left, getting in a swat on his thigh.

“Not bad,” Mott said, “but you lack the discipline that would be expected of a prince.”

“I could always say that I’m out of practice.”

“Nonsense. Prince Jaron was an amazing swordsman for his age before he disappeared. You cannot be as pathetic as you are now and hope to pass for him. Why do you think his sword was made?”

I blocked his attempt to graze my shoulder. “Maybe to encourage him to take his studies more seriously.”

“Jaron always took sword fighting seriously. He is known to have once declared in front of the entire court that he intended to lead the Carthyan armies in war one day.”

“Then he sounds like a fool,” I said, thrusting forward. Mott dodged me and easily blocked my move. “Mistress Havala said that Eckbert was a peaceable ruler, at all costs. Carthya has avoided war for generations.”

“Carthya has enemies, Sage. Darius understood that. Perhaps Jaron did as well. Their father never did.”

“Are you saying Eckbert was a bad king?”

“He wasn’t evil. Just naïve. Each year, his enemies have grown stronger, forged alliances, stockpiled their weapons. Eckbert failed to see their hungry eyes as they looked toward Carthya.” Mott shrugged. “He failed to see the enemies within his own castle.”

I used the opportunity to jab at his side, then followed it with a slice that threw his sword off balance. Mott backed up two steps and readjusted his grip. “Good move, Sage. Very unexpected.”

“I fought better with Jaron’s sword,” I said.

“You fought better because it was a superior sword, even as an imitation. It’s too bad that it’s been taken. Conner now believes it wasn’t any of you three boys. He thinks one of the servants took it to sell, knowing you boys would get the blame for it.”

“Cregan probably took it to help train Roden.”

“Unlikely. You dislike Cregan, Sage, but he serves Conner well. He’d do anything Conner asked.”

“So would you.”

Mott stopped and lowered his sword. “I wouldn’t kill for him. That’s my limit.”

I couldn’t let that go unanswered. “Then your limits are meaningless. Cregan killed Latamer on Conner’s orders, and you helped it happen. That’s the same thing.”

Something flickered in Mott’s eyes. He pressed his lips together and said, “Our lesson is over. Hang up your sword and I’ll walk you back to the house.”

The rest of the day was taken up with lessons. So much information was being pushed into our heads that it’s a wonder none of them exploded. Tobias was eventually sent back to our room as punishment for sleeping during the lesson, and he was clearly relieved to be going. That gave a burst of energy to Roden, who saw it as his chance to be the star student. After all, I wasn’t much more interested than Tobias had been.

Tobias stopped me in the hall as we were being escorted to dinner with Conner that evening. “You remember your promise to me, right? You’ll make sure I live through this?”

“That’s still my promise,” I said.

Tobias exhaled a sigh of relief. “Then let me help you become the prince. What do you need?”

“I want nothing from you, Tobias. Just loyalty, if I’m chosen.”

Tobias lowered his voice further. “I wasn’t going to kill you the other night. I never had any intention of doing that. The knife was sharper than I thought. What I thought was only a surface wound —”

“It will heal.”

“I think Mott suspects the truth. Maybe Conner too.”

“You have my promise, Tobias. You will live.”

“I trust you.” Tobias paused, as if he were weighing his own words. “I do, Sage. I trust you.”

“Keep up, you two,” Mott called back to us. “Conner is waiting.”

We caught up to Roden and Mott shortly before we arrived at the dining room. Once there, Mott opened the door to allow Roden and Tobias in, but he put a hand on my shoulder to hold me back and shut the door again.

My heart raced, but I tried to keep my expression calm. Mott looked very serious and I had no trouble thinking of any number of reasons why he might be about to punish me.

“Whatever you think I’ve done —” I began, but he shook his head to silence me.

“I didn’t know he was going to kill Latamer,” Mott said in a low voice. “You had it figured out before I did.”

The memory of Latamer turning just before he was struck with Cregan’s arrow was burned into my mind. It was relentless in my dreams at night and haunted my steps in the day. If only I’d realized what was happening a few seconds earlier, it might have been enough to save him.

“Why are you telling me this?” I asked.

He shrugged. “I guess I just wanted you to know that I remember what you said down in the dungeons. Conner doesn’t own me either.”

Conner had news for us that evening. “Do you remember when we spoke of the prime regent, Veldergrath? He is the one who aspires to become king, the one we must prevent from taking the throne because of the damage he will do to Carthya. I received an interesting letter from him tonight, which is both distressing and encouraging.” To illustrate, Conner held up a few papers, which I assumed was Veldergrath’s letter. “The encouraging news is that he has heard the rumor that Prince Jaron may be alive. I knew he was meeting Princess Amarinda earlier today, to travel with her as far as Eberstein on the outskirts of Drylliad, where he maintains a home. I expect she told him. This bodes well for my prince’s acceptance at court, if it is less of a surprise when I announce him.”

“And the bad news?” I asked.

“The bad news is that word is also spreading of the king’s and queen’s deaths. A decision cannot be made as to who will take the throne until the end of this week, but Veldergrath will use the fear of their deaths to build up more support for himself. He wrote to ask me whether I have any solid information as to Prince Jaron’s whereabouts. My response to him was non-specific, which will test his patience, but it does buy us another day.”

“Another day for what?” Tobias asked.

Conner took a deep breath, and then said, “I will choose my prince in two days’ time, then we will leave immediately for Drylliad.”

Tobias, Roden, and I looked at one another. There was surprisingly little enthusiasm from any of us, and Conner noticed.

“I might have expected some excitement,” he said.

“What will become of the two boys who aren’t chosen?” I asked.

Conner paused, then he said, “I haven’t decided that yet.”

Everyone in the room knew that was a lie.