The False Prince (25 page)

A
meeting of the regents was in full progress when Conner breathlessly entered the throne room. He was the only one who had come in late, and his arrival caused an unwelcome disruption.

“If there were any occasion for you to arrive on time, Lord Conner, this would have been it.” The man who spoke was Joth Kerwyn, high chamberlain to King Eckbert. He was almost as much a part of the castle as the bricks and mortar, having served the king for his entire life. He wasn’t a large or powerfully built man. Quite the opposite, in fact, and yet he could command a room of a thousand with just the wave of his hand. There was no one who had been more loyal to King Eckbert and few who had ever loved Carthya so much. The lines on his aging face told the story of years of worry and the weight of counseling royalty on their most difficult decisions. Now he was facing the greatest task of his career: peaceably finding a new king for Carthya. Because if civil war broke out amongst the different factions vying for the throne, Carthya’s enemies would use the opportunity to advance on the country and destroy it.

Conner gave a polite bow to Kerwyn. “My lord High Chamberlain, I had trouble getting here. Forgive me, please.”

There were nineteen other regents in the room, seated according to their rank at a long rectangular table. Conner’s place was near the end, but he hoped that by the close of the evening, he would replace Veldergrath at the head of the table. This was a vain and largely useless group, few who had ever worked a real day in their lives. Even if they knew of the risk and expense Conner had undergone to bring a prince to the throne, they would never appreciate the valiancy of his efforts. Conner had accepted that it was his role to save Carthya. But this collection of stiff-necked, silk-wrapped snobs would never understand that.

“You may take your seat,” Kerwyn said. “I have already made the announcement formally declaring King Eckbert and his queen and son to be dead. In only moments, the death bell will toll, one round for each royal.”

Almost immediately, the bells sounded throughout the castle. Their ring would carry beyond the outskirts of the capital city and would signal to the commoners that a royal had died. Three patterns of the bells would confirm the rumors were true. The entire royal family was gone.

When the bells fell silent, Kerwyn continued, “Lords Mead, Beckett, and Hentower, who traveled to Isel this past week, have confirmed for us that Prince Jaron must have died in the pirate attack four years ago. Therefore, we are left with no alternative, but to —”

“There is something more to that story.” Conner’s words were smug and tilted toward the self-righteous. This was a speech he had practiced so often in his head that he could repeat it in his sleep. “May I speak, Lord Kerwyn?”

Kerwyn nodded permission at him, and Conner stood. “With deference to my fellow regents who searched for proof of Jaron’s death this past week, they are wrong. Prince Jaron survived the pirate attack four years ago. He still lives. He is the rightful heir to the throne and should be crowned this night the king of Carthya.”

Veldergrath stood, pointing a long finger at Conner. “Then I was right! You did have him hidden at your home.”

“Only for his protection, Lord Veldergrath, until now. Surely, you can see how his being alive may threaten anyone else who hoped to become king tonight.”

“Is that an accusation?” Veldergrath began hurling obscenities at Conner. The two regents on either side of him held him back, and other regents around the table murmured loudly to one another.

Finally, Kerwyn stepped forward. “So where is this prince of yours, Lord Conner?”

“He’s coming. As I said before, we had trouble getting here.”

“Naturally, you did. I’m told there were several Prince Jarons who had trouble getting here.”

Conner spoke above the chuckles of his peers. “They didn’t let anyone through at the gate. No doubt the prince will punish the guards there for failing to recognize him.”

“If he were the prince, he would have known how to get through. The royals always know how to get through.”

“He must have forgotten.” Conner’s face paled, and he held on to the table for support. “But Prince Jaron will be here. Then you’ll see.”

Hearing footsteps in the hallway, he turned to the doors of the throne room expectantly. Almost as if on cue, someone did enter. But it was not who he hoped to see.

“Mott?” Conner said.

“Only regents are allowed in this meeting,” Veldergrath said. “You may wait with the other guests and nobles in the great hall. That’s where the new king will greet his people.”

But Mott seemed to see only Conner in the room. “He isn’t here? He came through the kitchen a long time ago.”

“Perhaps your false prince is lost in the castle,” another regent said, to laughter in the room.

“He grew up here. Of course he’s not lost.” It was an attempt at confidence, but desperation cut too clearly through Conner’s words.

“I propose we continue this meeting.” Veldergrath waited until all eyes were on him and then added, “We must not keep the people waiting. And I’m sure whoever is chosen as king will want to speak to Lord Conner on the subject of treason.”

Then something must have happened in the adjoining room, the great hall where hundreds of citizens had gathered to wait for the announcement of the new king. What had been a steady hum of conversation suddenly fell completely silent.

Behind Mott, a castle servant burst through the doors. “Forgive me, regents,” he said, forgetting the customary bow of his head. “But you should all come into the great hall. As quickly as possible.”

Although they were twenty men and women of great status and power, well trained in decorum and manners, no one would have known it by the way they hurried from the throne room. The only one who did not push his way out was Kerwyn, who slid through a secret door between the throne room and the great hall. He was the first to see what had caused the entire crowd in the great hall to fall silent.

For Prince Jaron was standing at the head of the room.

I
was in no hurry. All that mattered was the order in which I completed this plan. I stood on the dais at the head of the room, the platform reserved for royalty or the courtiers required near them in this formal setting. Behind me were the thrones of the king, queen, and Darius. Jaron’s throne was no longer here. I wondered how long I’d been gone before it was carried away.

The room was filled with a few hundred people, none of whom I recognized. But they clearly recognized me. I had come through a door connecting directly from the private rooms of the royal family. There was no announcement of my arrival, but apparently it hadn’t been necessary. Their wide eyes and total silence while staring at me confirmed that.

I saw Kerwyn come through the door from the throne room, where he and the other regents had been meeting. Him I recognized. He’d hardly changed over the past four years, still a powerful presence, and someone I’d always respected. From his expression, it was obvious he knew who I was supposed to be. But he seemed to be fighting his own eyes.

“Who are you?” Kerwyn asked, cautious as always.

The first order of business was to withdraw my sword — the real sword belonging to Prince Jaron. Before leaving the castle four years ago, I had hidden it beneath a loose floorboard in my old room, accessible only by crawling under the bed. My room had remained exactly as it was the night I left. My sword was still there as well, and other than a thin blanket of dust, it looked exactly as it had before.

I balanced the sword horizontally on both hands and knelt before Kerwyn as he approached me.

“You know me, Lord Kerwyn. I am that boy who burned the throne room, the boy who challenged the king of Mendenwal to a duel. I am the younger prince of Carthya. I am Jaron.” A whisper passed through the room. Kerwyn seemed unimpressed, but he was still listening.

I stood, but pointed to a nick in the blade of the sword. “After I lost the duel to that king, I threw this sword in anger, and it hit a sharp corner of the castle wall. You later returned it to me privately and said that if I don’t respect my sword, no one will respect me. Then you apologized because you had also heard what the king said about my mother, but you hadn’t dared to challenge him.”

Kerwyn faltered a moment, then recovered. “Someone could have overheard that.”

“Perhaps so, but it was I you spoke to that day.” Without taking my eyes off his, I reached into my pocket and pulled out a small golden rock. It was the last gift my father had ever given me, inside the satchel at the church. Since I stole it back from Conner, it had never been hidden especially well. Anyone who wished to venture high onto the ledges of Farthenwood would have found it. Later, I moved the rock to the bank of the stream on the outskirts of Conner’s estate, where it hid in its careful place amongst a thousand other ordinary rocks. “This is for you.” I pressed the stone into Kerwyn’s hand.

Kerwyn turned it over in his hands, unimpressed. “Imitator’s gold? It’s worthless.”

“No, it’s real gold. I am real, Lord Kerwyn.”

Tears filled Kerwyn’s eyes. He pulled a creased and worn paper from his pocket and unfolded it. His hands shook increasingly as he read it. Then he turned to the audience and said, “This note was given to me by King Eckbert about a month after Prince Jaron’s ship was attacked four years ago. I was instructed to keep it with me at all times and to read it only if someone ever came forward claiming to be the prince. This is what it says.” He read aloud, “‘Many may one day claim to be the lost prince of Carthya. They will be well rehearsed and some may even look the part. You will know Prince Jaron by one sign alone. He will give you the humblest of rocks and tell you it is gold.’” Kerwyn folded the paper again, and then said to the audience, “Lords and ladies of Carthya, I present to you the son of King Eckbert and Queen Erin. He is the lost royal of Carthya, who lives and stands before you. Hail, Prince Jaron.”

Then he turned to me and fell to his knees. He took my hand in his and pressed the note into my palm, then kissed the back of my hand.

In turn, everyone in the room sank to their knees and said, “Hail, Prince Jaron.”

Kerwyn looked up at me, and a single tear fell onto his cheek. “Your pants are filthy, as if you rolled in the dirt before coming here. I would expect nothing less from the boy I remember.”

I smiled. “I’ve come home. Do you know me now?”

“In a crowd of a thousand boys claiming to be the prince, there would be only one with the same look of trouble in his eye. I promise never to forget you again.”

Suddenly, as well as I thought I had everything planned out, I was at a loss. Should I tell them to rise, or issue a command? They were all watching me, waiting for what I’d do next.

There was only one person in the room who had failed to kneel. Bevin Conner stood at the back of the room, frozen. I walked into the crowd, which stood and magically parted before me.

Conner found his words and spoke them slowly. “It cannot be. You — I suspected it once or twice, but … was I blind?”

“You saw who you wanted to see, Conner, nothing more.”

“He sees nothing but a fraud, and so do I,” Veldergrath said from behind me. “This is clearly an impostor.”

I turned and smiled at him. “You are relieved of your duties as prime regent, Lord Veldergrath.” Then to Conner I said, “See how I keep my promises? For now, you are my new prime regent.”

Conner didn’t return the smile. He was still more frozen than not.

“You cannot do this!” Veldergrath sneered. “Who are you, really? I heard Conner combed through the orphanages of Carthya. No doubt he found you there amongst the other fleas and vermin.”

“He did. I lived in several orphanages at various times, and went by the name of Sage. Trace my records back as far as you can. You’ll find the first entry about four years ago, shortly after Jaron disappeared.”

Veldergrath laughed at that. “So you admit to being one of them? Now you expect
me
to bow before
you
?”

I grinned. “You’re right. That is funny.” Then I laughed with him, laughed so hard that I put a hand on his shoulder to better share the joke. He didn’t appreciate that and slid my hand away, like brushing an earwig off his clothes.

With my other hand, I lifted a coin from his vest, and then rolled it away on my fingertips. His laughter ceased, and another chorus of whispers echoed through the room.

“You know me, don’t you, Lord Veldergrath?” He rubbed his silver ring as the signs of anxiety washed over his face. I nodded at his ring. “I stole that from you once, right off your finger. You remember that, I’m sure. It was hours before you noticed. You told my mother I was incorrigible.”

“Apparently, little has changed,” Veldergrath muttered.

More loudly, I asked, “Do I have guards in here? Escort Lord Veldergrath out of this castle.” I flipped his coin back at him. “Come up with any questions you may have to verify my identity. We’ll meet again soon, and I promise that I will satisfy you.”

Two guards appeared on either side of Veldergrath. One took his arm and began to pull him away, but he shrugged them off and said, “No, Your Highness. Now that I see you up close … there will be no questions.” Then, like a scolded dog, he walked out ahead of the guards.

“I have questions,” a voice said, again behind me. This voice I had also heard before. It was the one person I least wanted to see, though it was the most inevitable.

The betrothed princess Amarinda stood in the center of the aisle I had created by walking there. Her hair was much fancier than the last time we met, piled high on her head and full of curls and ribbon. She wore a square-necked, cream-colored dress intricately patterned in gold tones and trimmed to match the ribbon in her hair. She would have already heard the bells tolling for the deaths of the royal family. I could only imagine the pain she must have endured this evening, wondering who had been chosen as the new ruler of Carthya, and what he would do about her. No matter what her anticipations might have been for tonight, one thing was certain: She did not expect me.

I walked over to her and gave a polite bow. “Princess, it is good to see you again.”

The hard expression on her face made it clear that she did not feel the same way.

Aware of the many eyes on us, I moved closer to her and whispered, “Can we talk?”

Her tone was icy. “Talk with whom? A brazen servant, a ragged orphan, or a prince?”

“With me.”

“Here in public?” I hesitated and she added, “We’ll make a scene if we’re only talking. Dance with me.”

I started to protest, but she was right. A dance might be the best shield for the conversation we had to have. So I nodded at the musicians in the corner to begin a song. With little attempt at concealing her disgust, she took my hand and moved with me to begin the steps.

“The cut on your cheek is still there, though much improved from what it was before,” she finally said.

“It was never intended that you notice me that night,” I explained.

“Then you should not have spoken to me the way you did.”

“I sometimes lack the talent of knowing when to speak and when to keep quiet.”

“That’s not true,” she snapped. Then she took a deep breath and fell back into rhythm with the dance. “You had every opportunity to be honest with me about the one thing that mattered most! It was no lack of talent. You designed it that way.”

“I never lied to you that night, not once.”

“Even after I begged for it, you failed to tell me the truth. Only the devils know the difference between that and a lie. You have hurt and insulted me.”

I had no answer to that and only said, “You will never find me dishonest with you again, Princess.”

“I hope not. Neither to spare your feelings nor mine. How shall I address you now? You’re no longer Sage.”

The dance step called for me to lean to my right. If she noticed me wince from the ache in my ribs, she didn’t acknowledge it. When I stood straight, I could speak again. “Call me Jaron.”

“You dance like a royal, Jaron. Better than your brother did.”

“Don’t compare me to him.”

She stiffened. “It was my attempt at a compliment.”

“Darius and I are very different people. If you think of him when you think of me, I’ll always be a failure to you.”

Her eyes fluttered, blinking back tears, and we fell into silence. We both knew there was more to be said, much more, and yet we completed the rest of the dance without another word.

As the music ended, Amarinda pulled away from me. “What happens now, for me?”

“Whatever you want,” I said.

“All I want is to be happy,” she said softly. “But I fear that is too much to ask.”

My smile at her was weak and apologetic. I hadn’t caused my brother’s death, but I was a consequence of it. “We’ll talk later. In private.”

She agreed, though the look of disgust had returned to her face. “May I have your permission to leave now? I’m upset and wish to be alone.”

I nodded at her, and as Amarinda disappeared into the crowd, I was again alone in a sea of strangers.

Still at the head of the room, Kerwyn said, “Your Highness, there must be a ceremony to make your new title official. I regret that your old crown is long lost.”

“I have it!” Tobias pushed forward through the crowd, holding something wrapped in a kitchen towel in his arms. He was wet and smelled horrible. I wondered how he’d made it this far into the castle. He stopped when he saw me and bowed. “So you were the prince all along. Why couldn’t I see it?” Then his face paled. “Oh, the crimes I’ve committed against you.”

“You committed them against an orphan named Sage. You’ve done nothing to Jaron.”

Tobias nodded and unwrapped the towel. “Your crown, my prince.”

Conner was suddenly there beside him. He grabbed the crown and said, “I am his prime regent. It is my duty to crown him in the ceremony.”

As we walked forward together, Conner whispered, “If you forgive me here, I will serve you forever. On your terms … Jaron.”

I said nothing. Although it did not go the way he had intended, Conner’s plan was complete. Mine was not.