The False Prince (13 page)

O
nce they got me into bed, Errol attempted to take care of my back, but I fought him so much that at one point after I awoke, it was Imogen who sat beside me.

I mumbled a hello to her. She shifted her eyes to identify Errol in the room, standing against a wall and looking irritated. So I closed my eyes and went back to sleep.

The next time I awoke, Imogen was using a warm damp cloth to clean my face. It was getting darker outside, though only a few lamps were lit yet. I looked around the room, but we appeared to be alone.

“Where’s Errol?” I asked.

“Gone. For now.”

“So they let you out of the kitchen to play nursemaid?”

“No one else would come. Not after the way Errol described all the trouble you were giving him.”

“He made it hurt worse.”

She frowned. “I’ll try to do better. Let me look at it.”

“Don’t. It’ll look bad and then you’ll have to pour this stuff on it.”

“That stuff is alcohol and it’ll keep infection away.” She helped me roll onto my stomach, then lifted up my shirt and pulled at the bandage. There was silence as she looked at my back. It didn’t even sound as if she was still breathing. “Oh, Sage.”

“It’s just the one cut.”

“Which looks awful. But you’re covered with bruises too.” She lightly traced a finger across my back.

“Your hand is cold,” I mumbled.

“Your skin is hot.” She unknotted and loosened the bandage, then said, “The wound has sealed, which is good, but I’ve still got to use the alcohol.”

I groaned and buried my face in my pillow. She applied alcohol to a towel and pressed it against my back, apologizing the entire time. When she finished, I focused on steadying my breathing while she reknotted the bandage.

“The servants say you did this for some little rock,” she said. “They had us search everywhere, but nobody can find it. Where’d you put it?”

“What’s your reward if I answer that?”

Imogen drew back, offended. I apologized, but the damage was done. “I’m no spy. It was just a question.”

“If you knew, maybe they’d try to get the answer from you too.”

“You’re the only one in the entire world — Conner included — who truly gives a devil’s inch about that rock.”

“Gold.”

“Whatever it was, you’re crazy to defy Conner that way.”

“Only one week more. Then everything will change.”

“Didn’t you learn anything in the dungeon? Nothing will change as long as you’re living under Conner’s rules. You’ve got to find a way to get out of here.”

“If he chooses me this week, I could get you away from here too.”

She hesitated, then said, “You’re delirious with exhaustion.”

“I’m not.”

“You
are
,” she insisted. “Sage, you are, trust me on that.”

“If I were the prince —”

“Whatever title they give you, you’ll always be a servant to Conner. You’ll always belong to him in some way, which means you’re in no position to make that offer. Now enough of this; you have to eat something. Can you sit up?”

With Imogen’s help, I got to a sitting position. She offered to feed me, but I said I’d rather do it.

“After becoming prince, I could trick Conner,” I said after I’d taken a few sips of a warm vegetable broth. “Free myself of his influence. Then you could —”

We were interrupted by Tobias and Roden returning to the room. They stopped in the doorway and stared awkwardly at me.

“Thought you’d never see me again?” I asked.

“It’s like looking at the dead,” Roden said.

“We didn’t think Conner would bring you back here,” Tobias said. “Not after what you did.”

“It’s okay for him to steal from me, but not for me to take it back?”

They didn’t answer and stared at Imogen as if they wanted her to leave before anything more was said. I finished the rest of my soup and handed it to Imogen. She shook her head stiffly at me, then gathered up any items not needed and quickly left the room.

“It’s irrelevant for you now anyway,” Tobias said, sitting at the desk. “You’ve missed so much of the lessons, there’s no way you can catch up, not even to Roden. Conner will choose me.”

“How do you know that?” I asked.

“No, it’s true,” Roden said, obviously dismayed. “Conner made it very clear at supper tonight that I’ve been a disappointment to him and you’re too unstable. He didn’t say anything at all about Tobias. If he had any problem with him, he’d certainly have said so.”

“Tobias isn’t strong enough to be king,” I said. “You and I have proven ourselves. Has he?”

“I will.” Tobias’s face was already red, and I suspected it was going to get redder before he was finished. “Don’t challenge me on that and don’t get in my way.”

Pretending I couldn’t detect the threatening tone in his voice, I casually leaned my head against the wall. “This is your chance with Conner, then. Be strong. Be bold. Tell him about all the notes you’ve made. Show them to him and prove just how smart you’ve become.”

Tobias glanced over at his stack of papers. Worry lines creased his forehead as he asked, “Have you been in my papers?”

“What good would that do me? I just think those notes would show off the results of your studies, prove to him that you have plans of your own.”

Tobias grabbed his papers and threw them into the fire. He marched over to my bed and stuck a finger in my face, then yelled, “You think you’re so clever, but if you push me any further you’ll see how foolish you are.”

“I never denied being a fool,” I said, lying back down on my bed. “That’s the difference between us.”

I
slept the rest of that evening and through the night, waking up only when Imogen came to check on my bandages.

There was so much I wanted to ask her, but someone else was always in the room with us, and any real conversation was impossible.

I was more careful this time to let her do her job without giving her any particular attention, though I still felt the entire charade was ridiculous. Most of these servants came to Farthenwood in better circumstances than I had. And right now, I was much more like the servants than Conner. My friendships with Imogen or Errol or Mott shouldn’t have threatened any of them.

Morning brought stiffness to my muscles. I must’ve been too tired the day before to notice how sore they were, or maybe it was that I didn’t have to move around much before now. Errol insisted on helping me dress, even brought Mott into the room to ensure I accepted that help. It wasn’t necessary. Standing there with my arms out while Errol dressed me was about as much as I could do.

With considerable struggle, I managed to stay awake that day and even paid a semblance of attention to the morning tutors. Master Graves made it very clear that they had moved on without me and had no time to return to the lessons of the previous few days, so I would have to catch up as best as I could.

“It’s been a week since you came to Farthenwood, Sage, and you’re no further along than the first day we started.”

I told him that was probably because I’d only had two of his lessons and, in all fairness to myself, hadn’t really bothered to pay attention to either of them. This only darkened his glares at me, and he focused the rest of the lesson on Roden.

Mistress Havala also said there wasn’t enough time to review what had been discussed while I was — she generously used the word
indisposed
— but gave me two books that she said contained much of the same information.

“You probably can’t read them without help,” she said. “Perhaps Tobias will help you in the evenings.”

“I’m certain that Tobias has already given me too much help,” I said.

Tobias gripped the sides of his chair and said whatever he might do to please Master Conner would please him.

Roden and Tobias did horseback and sword-fighting lessons that afternoon. I was excused from participating, but Mott insisted I watch them. I watched the horseback lessons until they rode too far away for me to see them and I fell asleep. The sword-fighting lesson was somewhat more interesting. Tobias was still a disaster with a sword, but Roden had improved significantly. I wondered if he was naturally talented or if he’d been putting in a lot of extra hours of practice.

Mott commented on it too. Roden shrugged and said Cregan had offered to help him during free hours.

“Cregan is skilled with a sword, but he’s self-taught,” Mott warned. “With him as your teacher, you will learn to fight, but your style will not reflect the training of a prince.”

“My lessons with you will help me pass for the prince,” Roden said. “But Cregan’s lessons will keep me alive.”

Dinner that evening was relatively quiet. Conner vaguely inquired after our progress but said he’d already had full reports from all our instructors. He asked me what I was doing to try to catch up.

I shrugged and said I planned to study Tobias’s notes after he was asleep. Tobias shot me a glare, but Conner laughed.

“And what is your response to that?” Conner asked Tobias.

Tobias shook his head. “I have no notes, sir. And Sage couldn’t read them if I did.”

“If you did have notes, Sage could get them and perhaps even read them. You had better be careful, Tobias, or Sage will end up as my choice.”

“That would be a mistake, sir,” Tobias mumbled.

“
Your
mistake,” Conner corrected, “is that you are more interested in pleasing me than in becoming like the boy Prince Jaron was. Learn to fight back, Tobias. Be strong!” His eyes drifted to me, and he shook his head. “Don’t be smug about that, Sage. Jaron didn’t seek fights either, the way you do. I can see you all still have much to learn about who the prince really was.”

After we returned to our room that night, I fell onto my bed, not caring what clothes I slept in, as long as I could sleep. But Tobias sat at the desk, turning his chair to stare directly at me.

Finally, I muttered, “You obviously have something to say, Tobias. So what is it?”

His eyes narrowed. “I am strong enough to stop you, Sage. You too, Roden. I’m warning you both not to push me any further.”

“Conner said the prince never sought out fights,” I reminded him.

“This isn’t about being like Jaron,” he said. “It’s about stopping you. And I will if I have to.”

Grimacing with the sting in my back, I rolled over to face the wall. Before closing my eyes, I said, “Conner will choose me this week and you know it. You wouldn’t dare to stop me.”

As tired as I was, I forced myself to stay awake for nearly an hour after that until I was sure both Roden and Tobias were asleep. Because no matter what I said, it was becoming increasingly obvious that Tobias would at some point carry out his threat.

M
ott was waiting for us after lessons the next day to tell us there would be no horseback riding that afternoon, nor sword fighting. “Cregan says you’re all good enough on horseback to pass initial scrutiny, and Conner has other plans for you this afternoon.”

Those other plans were dancing lessons in Conner’s great hall. So Conner apparently had other ways to torture us beyond his dungeon walls.

I grabbed my side and sat in a chair near the door. “I’m not dancing. It’ll hurt.”

“Today is the only time we can spare for these lessons,” Conner said, walking in ahead of a small group of women. “Surely, a handsome young prince would never be so tired that he couldn’t enjoy a dance with a lovely young lady.”

Reluctantly, I stood, though swallowing a laugh when I saw our three dancing partners. None of them were young, and lovely was a kind exaggeration. They were dressed in clothes similar to his other servants and had the rougher skin of women accustomed to physical labor.

Roden shared a grin with me. Tobias straightened his spine, but looked a little nervous.

“Don’t be shy, boys,” Conner said. “You don’t have to romance them. It’s just some dancing, and all of them are fine dancers.”

We walked forward and made the decision of who our partner would be based on which lady happened to be standing closest to us. My partner was a woman in her forties who whispered to me that her name was Jean. She had curly hair that was probably once a pretty brown before it had grayed and faded. Her eyes were wide, contrasting with her thin lips and nose. Not a pretty face, but it was an interesting one.

Conner began instructing us in a basic minuet, demonstrating the steps himself with Roden’s partner, then clapping his hands to a beat as we imitated him. Jean was pleasant and helpful. And forgiving with every mistake I made.

“You’re doing fine,” she said. It was a lie and we both knew it. But I appreciated it nonetheless.

Neither Tobias nor Roden seemed to be doing much better. Conner remained patient with us, though, and after several tries, we all began to make the steps in a respectable manner.

At a break between dances, Conner asked if my father was a musician.

“As I’ve told you on more than one occasion, sir.”

“Surely you play an instrument, then.”

“I’ve also told you my father was a poor musician. You cannot believe the student could rise higher than his teacher.”

Conner walked to the corner of the room, where a small instrument case was propped. He pulled out a fippler and fitted the pieces together. “I’d like to hear you play, Sage.
If
you were taught by your musician father.”

“I’d leave my lovely dance partner alone, sir.”

“I’ll dance with her, if you play something we can dance to.”

I eyed Conner. “Is this a test?”

With a tilt of his head, Conner said, “Everything is a test.”

So I took the fippler. It needed a bit of tuning, which was awkward for me at first. I’d actually never played a fippler, but it was a basic wind instrument, and with only a little trouble at first, I could guess at the fingering. “What I don’t remember must be improvised,” I warned them. “Forgive me if I fail to do this song justice.”

Then I began to play. It wasn’t a song for dancing but was instead a sad melody that had always given me images of loneliness on a forgotten beach in the night. It was a tune that used to make my mother cry, and after a while, my father no longer played it. After a while, he no longer played any songs at all. But I never forgot the tune.

When I finished, there was a hush in the room. I handed the fippler back to Conner, who solemnly said, “You were right, Sage. The student cannot rise higher than his master. I believe we need to dance again.”

I caught Conner’s eye a few times over the next dance, wondering what he had intended by asking me to play. If I’d been lying about my father’s hobby, all I would have had to say was that he never taught me.

After the dance finished, Conner told us to rest a moment, then folded his arms and chuckled. “None of you will ever be great dancers,” he said. “But at least you won’t humiliate yourselves either. We’ll work a bit longer, then I’ll have each of you boys go and change clothes. You’ll work in the kitchen tonight, learning from the servants there about what is expected in serving guests. You’ll need to learn these roles because I’ll have you serving the betrothed princess Amarinda tomorrow evening.”

“When does she arrive, sir?” Tobias asked.

“I expect to receive her sometime late this evening, though she isn’t planning to dine with us until tomorrow. Sage, have you been working on your accent? If you are called upon to speak to her, I won’t have you replying with an Avenian accent.”

“I happened to be alone quite a bit in recent days,” I said in a Carthyan accent. “It gave me a great deal of time to practice.”

“Not bad,” Conner said with a smile. “But you’re still too soft on your consonant sounds. Tighten them up, and never let me hear the Avenian accent again.”

I acknowledged Conner’s request with a nod. Then Conner said, “I think we’ll practice a waltz now. Take your partners by the hand, please.”

Kitchen duty that afternoon was tedious. Our escort in the kitchen happened to be my dance partner, Jean, who I learned was more a supervisor than a servant. Conner had a large kitchen, and Jean took great pride in showing us how smoothly it operated.

“The master occasionally has unexpected guests, so we always have a plan for last-minute meals,” Jean said. “We’ve enjoyed this week since you boys came. We’re preparing a lot more food than usual, and our serving dishes come back empty.”

“Everything tastes so good here,” Roden said. Tobias and I both smiled at that. It wasn’t her decision who was made prince, so neither of us could figure out what he hoped to gain by complimenting her.

Roden answered that question a moment later when he noticed our grins. “It really does taste good,” he whispered. “You should have seen what they fed us at my orphanage. I don’t even think it was food half the time.”

Jean instructed us on the proper way to hold a tray and how to serve or retrieve dishes on the table. She showed us how to pour a drink, and even let us sample a taste of Conner’s best wine. I was interested in a detached sort of way and so was Roden. It was nice to know, but did me little good. However, Tobias leaned over to us at one point and whispered, “If Conner hadn’t pulled us from the orphanages, this would likely have been our futures.”

“Not mine,” I said firmly. Nothing in me could accept a life like this. Roden quickly agreed.

“You know what little you must,” Jean finally said. “Now make yourselves useful in here. There is always too much to do, and if we have you on loan, we’ll use you.”

She showed us a pile of dishes that needed to be washed. I pointed out there was really only room for two dishwashers and assigned myself the job of kneading dough at the other side of the room. Roden and Tobias didn’t seem to care, so Jean gave in and waved me away.

I wandered over to the wood counter in the corner and picked up a lump of dough. After a minute, Imogen entered the kitchen, and Jean directed her to come over and help me. To my surprise, she didn’t seem to object, and only moved a set of kitchen knives out of my way, giving herself room beside me to knead another lump of dough.

“I’ve done this before,” I said, working my fingers into the warm dough. “It was one of the jobs at the orphanage. But the dough here is much better. We ate from a lot of charity ingredients before, which almost always meant whatever was unfit for the upper classes.” She glanced at me and I continued. “I don’t see why the upper classes object to food with weevils in it. They’re very nutritious.”

That finally earned a real smile, even though it was far from the funniest thing I’d ever said to her. Then I realized the smile wasn’t about me; something in her had changed.

“You’re different,” I said quietly.

Without looking up at me, she nodded. She couldn’t tell me what it was, but she didn’t need to. There was less fear in her than before.

“Imogen!” a tall, square-cut man shouted from the far end of the kitchen. Based on his clothing, he was one of Conner’s chefs. “Lazy girl!”

Imogen swung around. I started forward, but she grabbed my wrist to hold me back.

“Isn’t that dough ready yet?” he said. “I’ve got to have it baked by this evening!”

“How could she have finished?” I scowled. “Every time she walked in here, you sent her out with another job!”

The chef crossed to me and shoved me against the brick wall. Pain lit across my bruised back and throughout my body. But I somehow held my tongue. “Don’t tell me how to operate in my kitchen!” he snarled.

“Let him go!” Mott said, entering the kitchen. He grabbed my shirt and yanked me away from the chef’s grasp, then motioned for Tobias and Roden to follow him. “We’re finished here.” As we walked out, he said to me, “Can’t you go anywhere without causing a problem?”

“Is that who gives Imogen her bruises?” I asked.

Mott clenched his jaw. “It’s clear that if you work from the kitchen tonight, one of you will end up killing the other. I’ll assign you different duties.” Then with a parting glare, he walked ahead of us.

Tobias and Roden caught up to me as we followed Mott.

“He hurt your back,” Roden said. “I can tell by the way you’re walking.”

“My back is fine.” It wasn’t true, but I felt braver for saying it.

“It’s your own fault if he did hurt it,” Tobias said. “Why do you do it?”

I shrugged. “What?”

“Aggravate people the way you do. You seem bent on making enemies here.”

“And you insist on making false friends. They’re no different. Don’t you ever get tired of pretending to be something you’re not?”

“Like the prince?” Tobias arched his head. “No, I could pretend to be him for the rest of my life. Don’t judge me just because you’re not able to do the same.”

His words hit me too close, and I fell behind him and Roden as we walked back to our rooms. We both knew he’d won that round.