The False Prince (15 page)

A
s the day progressed, it became evident that I would eat better on this period of punishment from Mott than I’d eaten yet since coming to Farthenwood.

Tobias snuck me back better than half of his breakfast, and Errol left some food in my room while cleaning up, expressing false dismay after I ate that “it was food intended for somebody else.”

We were to remain in our room in private study because of Princess Amarinda being in the house, but after lunch was brought to us, Tobias gave me all of his lunch and Roden shared half.

“You owe me nothing,” I said to Roden.

“Not now, but if Conner does choose you, then I hope you’ll make the same promise to me that you did with Tobias, to save my life.”

“And will you make that promise to me as well?” I asked him.

Roden shrugged. “I can’t make Conner do what I want. Not even if I were king.”

I clapped Roden on the shoulder. “Then, for the sake of my life, I’ll have to continue hoping to be named the prince.”

Near us, Tobias’s feet dropped to the floor and he banged on the door for his servant. When he arrived, Tobias said he had to use the toilet, the only reason we could be allowed out of the room. Even our lessons would be held in this room for the day.

“Do you think Tobias is so angry that he’ll try to kill you again?” Roden asked after Tobias had gone.

“He wasn’t trying to kill me last night. He just wanted me to think he could.”

“Same thing, as far as I’m concerned. Though I guess in the end, it worked out better for you. Oh.” Roden’s eyes widened. “Did you plan for that to happen?”

“Tobias was getting desperate. Once he took the knife when we were in the kitchen, I knew something was bound to happen soon.”

“Why didn’t you just report that he had a knife?”

“There’s forgiveness for that. But Conner wouldn’t forgive what he did last night, and Tobias knows it, so he had to agree to my terms.”

Roden slowly shook his head. “You let him cut you.”

A smile spread across my mouth. “Well, I let him make the first cut. I thought that’d scare him into stopping. I wish it had, because it really did hurt.”

Roden laughed and shook his head incredulously. “You’re the craziest person I’ve ever met. Tobias may be more educated than you, but he’s not the smartest of us.” I chuckled, but Roden turned serious and added, “It really is down to you and me, Sage. I’ve still got to try to win, you know that.”

“It’s cruel, this game of ours,” I said. “Between us, you’re Conner’s favorite now.”

Roden nodded. “You can bait me all you want. I won’t try to kill you.”

“You could, though,” I said. “I’ve seen you out practicing swords with Cregan.”

“Cregan hopes Conner chooses me, and he wants me to be ready for when he does.” Roden’s voice raised in pitch. “What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing. I’m just glad to hear you’re practicing for Conner’s benefit and not mine. I’m running out of places to get hurt.”

“I don’t see why that’s funny. I think you must like the pain, because you’re constantly pushing people until they hurt you.”

“I definitely don’t like the pain,” I said firmly. “So if you do decide to kill me, make it quick.”

Roden’s laugh came without humor and we finished lunch with little more conversation. When Tobias returned a few minutes later, Master Graves had already arrived and begun a particularly dreary lesson on the great books and fine art of Carthya. Tobias lay on his bed for the entire lesson, causing Master Graves to remark that he never thought he’d see a lazier student than me. I felt a little sorry for Tobias, watching him pretend to be less than he was. But unfortunately, that was his situation now.

Errol and the other two servants came in mid-afternoon to get us ready for the charade of being servants to Princess Amarinda that evening.

“Why so early?” Roden asked.

“You may have been clean orphans this week,” his servant told him, “but you’re still orphans. It’ll take a bit more cleaning up to make you worthy of the betrothed princess.”

“Have you seen her?” I asked.

If he had, the servant wouldn’t acknowledge it. But while he gathered my clothes, Errol whispered to me, “I’ve seen her. She looks as beautiful as any princess could. You should feel lucky to be able to serve her tonight.”

I was too tired to feel lucky, or to care what the princess looked like. I told Errol he could take my place tonight, which he said was fine if I’d do the laundry in his place. That was the end of our bargaining.

Making us worthy servants included trimming the uneven ends of our hair so that it would tie back neatly, filing our nails, and lecturing us on the importance of always standing up straight around anyone we served.

Unfortunately for Errol’s best efforts on my behalf, the shorter side of my hair refused to stay out of my face. Finally, he gave up and told me to keep it pushed back whenever I was around the princess. We both knew I probably wouldn’t.

When we were finished, they placed us in front of mirrors. Our white undershirts were cut closer to the arms, to avoid the sleeves touching any of the food as it was served. The vests we wore over them were simple, earth-colored, and laced up the front, and the boots were low and secondhand.

I snorted a laugh. “Everything here is about costumes. We don’t know the first thing about being servants, but they’ve certainly dressed us for the part.”

“This is my part,” Tobias mumbled beside me. “Now.”

“I like them.” Roden twisted in an attempt to see how he looked from the back. “It’s easier to move in these than the clothes Conner has had us in all week.”

Mott entered the room and surveyed each of us. I wondered if he’d polished his bald head. It looked shinier than usual, and he wore clothes nearly as fancy as Conner’s. He was to be distinguished tonight as something more than a servant, though still not worthy to sit at the table. With a very stern voice, he said, “As long as none of you does anything stupid, I believe tonight will be successful. Here are some things each of you must remember. Never address a master first and never look them in the eye unless they are speaking specifically to you. You follow my directions and never take any initiative with the princess unless I order it.” Looking straight at me, Mott added, “You three must remember that you are in disguise. The worst thing that could happen would be for the princess to remember meeting you here tonight after you are presented at court. That cut is still evident on your face, Sage.”

“It’ll be healed by the time I’m presented at court,” I said. “Besides, Imogen once served us with a bruise on her cheek, so this should only help me fit in better with the other servants.”

Mott didn’t rise to my remark. “And how are the wounds on your back, specifically the one caused by the … window?”

“If I’d had more to eat today, they’d probably be healing faster.”

Mott smirked and glanced at Errol for an answer. “No signs of infection, sir,” Errol reported.

“That’s good,” Mott said. “Because I’d expect a dirty window to have caused infection. I did hear that a knife was missing from the kitchen last night, one of the chef’s sharpest blades. Those are kept very clean.”

“Only one knife was missing?” Tobias glanced at me and then quickly looked away when I tilted my head in response to his silent question. He whispered something under his breath, I’m sure some sort of curse aimed at me. That wasn’t a problem. The devils were used to receiving curses with my name on them.

“One knife,” Mott said, walking over to stand directly in front of Tobias. “With a blade about as long as Sage’s wound. Do you know anything about it?”

Tobias took a step backward, and his eyes darted around as he searched for a response, but I spoke up. “None of us would know where the chef misplaced the knife. And fortunately, I have no intention of going out that particular window again, so there should be no injuries in the future.”

Mott scoffed, making it clear he didn’t believe me, but all he said was, “Line up behind your servants, boys. The dinner will be ready soon.”

C
onner’s dinner that night was served in the great hall, not the dining room where we’d eaten all week. Several guests were already there, but the princess and her parents, who apparently had accompanied her to Farthenwood, had not yet entered.

I was assigned as a door servant, with no apparent function other than to stand beside the doors of the great hall and observe as other servants came and went. Tobias’s and Roden’s assignment was no better. They stood at the far end of the room, tasked with the job of closing the curtains if the setting sun got in anyone’s eyes.

Mott announced Princess Amarinda’s arrival, along with the entrance of her parents and some of their courtiers.

Amarinda was as beautiful as Conner had described her, with chestnut brown hair swept away from her face and falling in thick curls down her back, and piercing brown eyes that absorbed her surroundings. As she recognized Conner, her entire face lit up with a smile that was warm and inviting. Here, in Conner’s home, the guest had made the owner feel welcome.

Conner stood, along with the others at his table, and bowed to Princess Amarinda and to her parents. Master Graves had told us about them, and how Amarinda came to be the betrothed princess.

The alliance between Amarinda and the house of King Eckbert was made at her birth. She was three years younger than Darius, and the product of a lengthy search by Eckbert. He wanted a foreign girl whose connections were powerful enough to forge a marriage that would create a bond between her country and Carthya, but not a direct heir to the throne, who would have political ambitions of her own.

Amarinda was a niece to the king of Bymar. Before she was even old enough to crawl as an infant, her parents had promised her to whoever inherited Eckbert’s throne, most likely Darius. And although she’d never been given a choice in marriage, the older Amarinda became, the more her admiration for Darius grew. Both were said to be eager for the time when she would be of age and they could marry.

Amarinda stopped when she passed me beside the door. “What are you staring at?”

Whatever rules Mott had given us blurred in my head. I could speak to her if she was addressing me, but she was only addressing me because I’d looked right at her, which was not allowed.

“Forgive him, Highness,” Mott said, stepping forward.

“No forgiveness is requested. I merely wondered what a servant found so interesting.”

I looked to Mott to see if I should answer. With a stern warning in his eyes, he nodded permission at me, and I said, “You’ve got dirt on your face.”

She arched her eyebrows. “Is that a joke?”

“No, Your Highness. On your cheek.”

Amarinda turned to her attendant, who flushed and wiped the dirt off. “Why didn’t you tell me before I walked in here?” Amarinda asked her.

“You led the way, Highness. I didn’t see it.”

“But he did and he’s only a servant.” She turned back to me apologetically. “Before leaving my room, I had the window open and paused to look out. I must have gotten some dirt on my face then.”

“I never said the dirt detracted from your beauty, Highness,” I told her. “Only that it was there.”

With a somewhat embarrassed smile, she nodded at me in return, and then continued on, taking her seat. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Conner looking at me, though his expression was so controlled I couldn’t tell whether he was amused, relieved, or furious.

Dinner smelled so good as it was served that it took considerable willpower not to reveal that I was in disguise at that moment and to sit down to eat with the others. A large roast had been prepared, with boiled carrots and potatoes, hot bread, and some sort of imported cheese, the name of which I didn’t recognize when Conner offered it to Amarinda.

Imogen was one of the servants of the meal. I noticed a cut on her forehead and wondered if Conner would dismiss that as yet another clumsy moment. No matter how long I stared at her as she served, she avoided my eye each time she entered or exited the room. Had I offended her somehow? Or was she keeping herself away from the increasing danger that surrounded Conner’s plans?

Across the room, Tobias was disinterested and lackluster. He stared at the floor and soon faded into the background. Roden looked hungry, and I caught him staring at the princess with a powerful expression of admiration.

The conversation at the table began with shallow pleasantries. Conner described his life in the country, away from the politics of Drylliad. Amarinda discussed her travels as she toured Carthya in the recent weeks. Her parents understood that as an heir to the throne, she was far more important than they were, and deferred to her in leading the conversation.

After the main course was served, Conner steered the conversation directly to the topic I was sure he had intended for us to hear: the plans for her eventual wedding and ascension to the throne.

Amarinda pressed her lips together, then said, “Perhaps there will never be a wedding.” She glanced over at Conner, who feigned appropriate concern. After a moment, she added, “There is a rumor that came to me only a few days ago regarding the king and queen, and their son.”

“Oh?” Conner’s wide eyes actually looked curious. He knew exactly what that rumor was, and I couldn’t help but respect his acting skills.

“You haven’t heard it?”

“I was told the king and queen and their son are touring the northern country, which they often do at this time of year.”

“And may I ask when you last saw them?”

“It’s been a few weeks,” Conner said. “Before their trip to Gelyn.”

“And they were well?”

“Certainly.”

Amarinda’s father spoke up. “Then the rumor cannot be true.” He heaved a sigh of relief and took his wife’s hand. She also looked relieved.

“Rumors have always surrounded the royal family,” Conner said, as if the matter were settled. “It’s the cheapest entertainment for everyday folk.”

There was laughter at the table, except for Amarinda, whose solemn voice took control of the room. “I heard they’re dead. Murdered.” The laughter fell silent, and she continued, “All three of them, poisoned during supper and dead by morning.”

Mott glanced at me from his position and shook his head, warning me not to react. I forced a disinterested, blank expression onto my face, despite the churning in my stomach. If I reacted, Conner would change the subject. But I needed them to continue talking about it, because no matter how easily he could avoid giving us more details, he’d have a harder time dodging the princess. However, the one question at the top of my mind was one I knew she’d never ask: Would the person who steps in as the prince become the next victim?

Conner leaned forward and clasped his hands together. “Highness, you are scheduled to be at the castle in Drylliad tomorrow, correct?” When she nodded, he said, “Let the rumor lie until then. Whether it’s true or false, it will be verified once you’re there.”

“Waiting is more easily said than done.” Amarinda’s voice was heavy with sadness. “If there’s no heir, there’s no betrothed princess. I’ll be a widow without having married.”

“Even if the rumor is true, there may be another way,” Conner said. “Perhaps all is not lost for you, or for Carthya.”

Amarinda arched an eyebrow, curious. Conner waited several seconds to continue, which I knew was to increase her anticipation. It was heartless, even cruel. Finally, he said, “What if Prince Jaron were alive?”

Amarinda froze. Everyone at the table did, except Conner, who was enjoying this moment far too well. He manipulated those around him as though we were all pawns in his twisted game. I hated that my life had become entwined with his.

Finally, Amarinda’s mother said, “Everyone knows Prince Jaron was killed by pirates four years ago. Are you telling us this is not so?”

“I’m only saying that there is always hope.” Conner then addressed himself to Amarinda. “Highness, perhaps you may soon claim the throne after all.”

“Am I that shallow?” Amarinda stood, angry. “Do you think I cared about the throne and not the prince? You talk about Jaron’s return as if it would solve all our problems, but it’s Darius who concerns me. I need to know if
he
is alive!” She closed her eyes a moment, regaining calm, then said more softly, “You must forgive me, but I’d like to return to my room. I have a headache.”

Her father rose to escort her out, but she raised a hand to stop him. “No, Father, you should stay and continue the evening. My ladies will accompany me.”

“My man will see you to your room,” Conner said, gesturing at Mott.

Amarinda eyed me, and I lowered my head, willing her to look anywhere else. “That boy can see me there.”

Conner hesitated, then smiled and nodded his permission at her. I wondered if perhaps he wasn’t allowed to refuse her, or maybe he liked her suggestion. I didn’t.

“I don’t know the way, Highness,” I said. It was a stupid lie and poorly told. Hers was the room where I had bathed on my first day at Farthenwood.

“I do. All I ask is for an escort.”

Conner waved me away, so I bowed to her and we walked out into Conner’s great hallway. I led the way up the master staircase, which seemed endless on this trip. All I wanted was to take her to her room, then get away.

Behind me, Amarinda said, “You’ve obviously never escorted royalty before. Do you expect me to keep up with you at this speed? I set the pace, boy.”

I stopped, but did not turn around. “My apologies,” I mumbled.

“You do not have my forgiveness yet. Let’s see how you do from here.”

When she was close behind me, I continued walking, slower this time. “What is your name?” she asked.

“Sage.”

“That’s it?”

“I’m a servant, Highness. Do I require more of a name?”

“I am known to most only as Amarinda. Am I a servant as well?” She supplied her own answer. “Of course I am. I exist only to ensure there is a reputable queen for Carthya when the time comes. Have you heard of Prince Darius?”

“Of course.”

“Have you heard the rumors of his death?”

“I’ve heard them.” And they weren’t rumors.

She touched my arm to get my attention. I stopped, but kept my gaze low. “Is he really dead, Sage? If you know, you must tell me. Perhaps you know someone who works in the castle at Drylliad. Surely, you servants talk with one another.”

For the first time, I turned to face her, though I didn’t dare look her in the eyes. “The servants wonder what Amarinda will do if she has to marry Prince Jaron to gain the throne. If he is alive, of course.”

Amarinda didn’t answer for a very long time. Finally, she said, “You speak too boldly for a servant.”

I continued walking again. Amarinda caught up to me and said, “Is Jaron really alive? Whether the king’s family is living or dead, if Jaron is alive, he must be presented at court.”

I stopped in front of Amarinda’s door, still keeping my eyes on the floor. “Here’s your room, m’lady.”

“You told me you didn’t know where it was.”

And quickly realized what a stupid lie it had been. Rather than respond to her, I asked, “Is there anything else you need?”

“Do you wonder why I asked you to escort me, Sage?”

I shook my head and might have sighed a little too loudly. My back hurt from so much standing, I hadn’t eaten yet, and I was tired of pretending. Beyond that, I didn’t want to hear that a girl who’d have to marry me one day, if I was declared Prince Jaron, really loved the prince’s older brother.

“I asked you here because you spoke honestly to me before. If I’d entered that room with a face smeared in mud and asked another servant how I looked, he’d have bowed and told me I looked as beautiful as ever. When you’re in my position, Sage, you come to realize how few people you can trust.” She waited, expecting me to respond. When met with silence, she went on, “So I trust your opinion on my dilemma. Should I continue on to Drylliad, hoping Prince Darius will greet me there but knowing in my heart that something is wrong? Or shall I stay away, knowing that if there is no Darius, I am no longer a betrothed princess and have no place in Drylliad?”

This time I looked directly at her, although her eyes were so perceptive, I immediately looked away again. “You should go to the castle, Highness. You should always choose on the side of hope.”

“That’s good advice. I have less of a headache now than before, Sage. Thank you for that.” She smiled sadly. “Do you envy me, as a royal?”

I shook my head. The closer I got to the castle in Drylliad myself, the more I dreaded it.

“Many do. I’m glad you can appreciate your station in life as a servant. I’m a servant too, you know. Perhaps with finer clothes and servants of my own, but few choices about my life belong to me. We’re not so different, you and I.”

She was closer to the truth than she realized, but I held my tongue and stared at the ground.

“Will you not look at me?”

“No, my lady. If I cannot look at you as an equal, I will not look at all.”

She placed a hand on my cheek and softly kissed the other one, then whispered, “Remember this moment, then, Sage, when someone of my status offered a kindness to someone of yours. Because next time we meet, if Darius is dead, I will no longer be anyone of importance.”

Then she entered the room with her ladies in tow. Only after her door was shut did I look up again. Darius was dead, and very soon she and I would meet as equals. But I had the feeling it wouldn’t be a day she ended up celebrating.