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Authors: Jennifer A. Nielsen

The False Prince (23 page)

BOOK: The False Prince
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C
onner drilled me nonstop for four hours. He refused to answer any knock on the door with more than an order of “Go away,” and denied my requests for a break to step outside and clear my head. I didn’t care about most of what he told me, but I had to remember it for now, word for word, in order to repeat it back to him.

Finally, in the late afternoon, Conner announced I was ready to go before the court. He declared himself an excellent teacher due to the fact that I had learned so much in such a short period of time. Little did he guess how much his student already knew. Yet there were a few things I did not know. Things I had been too young to understand when I left there as a child. Conner had provided me with details of Jaron’s early life with such intimacy that I had asked him how he could know so much.

“I read the queen’s diaries,” he said. “She wrote about Jaron often.”

“Did she?” It was impossible to sound as if I didn’t care what my mother had really thought of me, and the curiosity burned my heart. I knew she loved me, because all mothers love their children. But she had stood with my father when they first sent me away, and I’d never quite gotten over that.

“Jaron had the reputation for being a difficult child,” I said. “Did she ever forgive him for that?”

Conner smiled. “Interesting choice of words, Sage, to assume she thought there was anything about Jaron that needed forgiveness. She believed he was just like her. He may have been difficult, but she loved him all the more for it.”

We had to move on quickly from that conversation. It was too close to me, too hard to think about.

Conner also provided me with a convenient story of how I escaped the pirates. According to him, I had seen their ship approaching and escaped in a rescue boat moored to the ship. I had hidden in Avenian orphanages in fear all this time, coming forward only when I heard rumors of the deaths of Eckbert and Erin.

I urged him to change the story a little. “Have me hiding at Mrs. Turbeldy’s orphanage. That way, if any of them claim to know me, we can acknowledge it was me, but in disguise the entire time.”

Conner’s face brightened. “This is why you’ll convince them tonight! You have a great gift for thinking fast when necessary.”

So when Conner announced that I was finally ready, I was not prepared for what happened next. He invited Mott into the room, who was carrying rope in one hand and a length of fabric in the other. Mott’s face was pale and he entered the room barely able to look at me.

“Are you ill?” Conner asked him.

“No, sir. I just … we can’t do this.” Then he glanced at Conner with moist eyes, and I understood. Mott shook his head. “If you knew … this boy —”

“Do it,” I said, turning to Mott. It took all my strength to force the words out, knowing what was coming. “You’re Conner’s miserable dog, aren’t you?”

Without warning, Conner grabbed me around the neck, where he held me while Mott tied my hands. I noticed he gave me a little slack on my wrists, but it didn’t matter. Despite the churning inside me, I had to let Conner do what he was going to do. Then Conner released me, and Mott tied a gag in my mouth. He still refused to look at me, but I saw deep creases in the lines of his face. He wasn’t any happier about what was going to happen than I was.

“Remember, Mott, don’t leave any marks,” Conner said.

Mott put a hand on my shoulder and for the first time looked into my eyes. He squeezed my shoulder gently, his attempt at an apology, then speared his fist into my gut.

I stumbled backward and fell onto the floor. It was difficult to draw in a breath, especially with the gag between my teeth, and I barely had time to recover before Mott yanked me to my feet again. He unfastened the top three buttons of my shirt, then walked behind me and hooked his arms through my elbows, pulling my bound hands tightly against me. I grunted from the pain in my shoulders and down my back, but he gave me no room for movement here.

Conner withdrew a knife from a sheath and walked up close to me. He put the tip of the blade against my chest and held it there. “I know it was Tobias who tried to kill you before,” he said. “But he couldn’t do it because he’s weak. A leader needs to be strong, Sage. Do you believe that?”

I didn’t move. All I could focus on was the point of the blade.

“Of course you do. You killed Veldergrath’s man when he tried to attack Imogen. So you can be strong, and I admire that. But you must know when to be strong, and when to give up control. In a very short time, you will become the leader of Carthya. Before that happens, I need to make it very clear what the arrangement will be between you and me.”

“No marks, Master Conner,” Mott said.

Conner glared at Mott, clearly annoyed. But he lightened the pressure of his knife and said to me, “You will be king in any decision a king may make. However, from time to time, I will have suggestions for you. You will obey them without question or hesitation. If you do not, I will expose you as a traitor to the crown, and believe me when I say I can do it with no danger to myself. If you do not obey me when I give the command, then you will be publicly tortured and hanged in the town square for treason. Princess Amarinda, if she is your wife by then, will be expelled from Carthya, to forever live in humiliation, and if you have children, they will die of starvation and shame. Do you believe I can make this happen?”

I still did not move. Conner’s face twisted in rage. He reared back and, with his free hand, punched me again in the gut. Mott still braced me from behind, so there was nothing I could do but bite down on the gag and groan in muted pain. He hit me two more times, once in the chest and once on my shoulder. Then he ripped me away from Mott and threw me on the floor. He knelt beside me and hissed into my ear, “You are nothing other than what I have made you into. I have followed through on my threats to other royals. Attempt to betray me and meet their fate. Do you understand?”

I nodded and he lifted me back into a sitting position. He said, “In your first act as king, you will remove Veldergrath as a regent. Tell the court you suspect Veldergrath may have something to do with your family’s deaths and you refuse to have him as a sitting regent in the court. Your second act as king will be to install me as your prime regent. I don’t care who you replace Veldergrath with, though as your prime regent, I am happy to recommend names if you are unfamiliar with them. Do you agree to this?”

I nodded again. With his knife, Conner cut the ropes binding my wrists, then sliced through the gag on my mouth. As soon as he did, I spat at him. He wiped the spit off his face, then slapped me hard across my cheek.

“This would be easier if you accepted that what I want is a better situation for us both,” he said. “You are the lowest form of life Carthya has to offer, yet I am making you a king. Stop fighting me, Sage, and let us be friends.” He seemed disappointed that I gave him no response, then he stood and said to Mott, “Clean him up and get him dressed. I’ll have Imogen bring something to eat very soon. Do not leave him alone until I return.” Then he wiped his hands, straightened his jacket, and left the room.

A
s soon as Conner left, Mott was by my side, helping me up off the floor and onto the bed. I rolled onto my back and groaned, holding my side.

“I think he cracked a rib,” I said. “He punches a lot harder than you do.”

“To be fair, Your Highness, I was holding back,” Mott said.

I wanted to laugh, but over the past two weeks, I’d learned how much that could hurt. So I just closed my eyes while Mott unbuttoned the rest of my shirt and felt around for any injuries he might detect.

“Why didn’t you let me tell him the truth?” Mott asked. “He’s going to find out soon enough anyway, and you could have saved yourself all this pain.”

“He’d never have believed it,” I said. “He should know who I am better than anyone, but all he can see is the boy from the orphanage. That’s all he’ll ever see of me.”

“Perhaps so,” Mott said. “Other than a tiny cut on your chest, I can’t see any damage.”

“Trust me, there’s damage. Couldn’t you have stopped him?”

“Only you could have.” He began sliding my shirt down my arms. I let him do all the work. “What were you thinking by spitting at him at the end? Begging for more?”

I answered with an “ow” as Mott pushed my left arm back too far. He apologized and moved more carefully.

“You are the biggest fool of a boy I’ve ever known,” Mott said. Then his tone softened. “But you will serve Carthya well.”

“I wish I felt ready to do this,” I said. “The closer we come to the moment, the more I see every defect in my character that caused my parents to send me away in the first place.”

“From all I’m told, the prince they sent away was selfish, mischievous, and destructive. The king who returns is courageous, noble, and strong.”

“And a fool,” I added.

Mott chuckled. “You are that too.”

Getting dressed in the outfit Conner had planned for me took quite a while. It was fancier than the usual clothes we had at Farthenwood, and immediately reminded me of the one thing I’d never missed of castle life. The tunic was long and black with gold satin ribbon running from my chest to the bottom hem. Beneath it I wore a white, full-sleeved shirt that gathered at my wrists and was too tight on my neck. A dark purple cape hung from my shoulders, clasped with a gold chain that was heavier than it looked.

“Real gold?” I asked. Mott nodded and offered me a pair of new leather boots and a ridiculous hat that had a long white feather in it. I took the boots and ignored the hat.

I sat in front of a mirror as Mott combed my hair smooth and tied it back with a ribbon. “Your cheek is still red from where he slapped you,” he said. “But it should fade before we reach the castle.”

“I hope it stays. Let it remind Conner of how important he thinks he is to me.” I caught Mott’s eyes in the mirror. “Do I have your loyalty?”

Mott nodded. “You have my life, Prince Jaron.” He finished by tucking down the collar of my jacket, then said, “What do you think of yourself now?”

“It’s as good as I might expect to look.”

There was a knock at our door. Mott opened it and Imogen walked in with a tray of food. Her eyes were red but dry. I wanted to ask Mott to leave so that I could speak with her, but I knew he had to obey Conner’s order to stay. Besides, there was really nothing more I could say to Imogen than had already been said. She would be the greatest casualty in this plan, which was entirely my fault. If it was possible to apologize to her, I didn’t know how.

She set the tray on the small table in the center of the room. Mott started to tell her to bring the tray over to me directly, but I held up my hand and said I’d come get the food. She must have noticed something different in the pained way I walked, because she furrowed her eyebrows and looked questioningly at me. I smiled in return, but I don’t think she believed it.

“Do you want her to leave while you eat?” Mott asked.

Ignoring Mott, I asked her, “Have you eaten yet today?” She cast a sideways glance at Mott, but I said, “Imogen, it was my question, not his.”

She slowly shook her head. I uncovered the lid to my tray and found a deep-dish meat pie and a thick slice of bread. “There’s more than enough for both of us.” She mouthed the word
no
to me, but I pretended not to see it and with my spoon dished her out a sizable portion, which I set on the plate where the bread had been. I handed it to her with the spoon and said I’d eat my half after she finished using the utensil.

“Have you eaten, Mott?” I asked.

“I’d better have, because that meal won’t split a third time,” Mott said.

Once Imogen began eating, she devoured the food as if it were the first she’d eaten in days. She finished her meat pie and then found the napkin and carefully wiped the spoon clean before handing it back to me.

“Do you want more?” I asked. “I’m not hungry.”

She shook her head and stood, backing away from the table with a bowed head.

“She comes to the castle with us tonight,” I told Mott.

“It’s not Conner’s plan —” Mott began.

“It’s my plan, though. What have Tobias and Roden been doing all day?”

“Conner heard a rumor last night. He sent them into town to see if they can learn anything.”

“What’s the rumor?”

“That there are other princes, Your — other princes, Sage. It appears that Conner is not the only one with this plan.”

“Yes, but Conner has an advantage the others don’t, correct?” Mott returned my smile. Imogen noticed the exchange between us but of course said nothing.

Conner returned to the room just as I was finishing the meal. He ordered Imogen to return the tray, and Mott to wait outside, then he shut the door behind us. He carried two bundles in his arms.

“You look good,” he said.

“Better than I feel,” I responded coolly.

Conner looked at me without sympathy. “I trust your bruises will keep my words in your memory for a long time.”

It was safe to say that I would never forget them. Bile rose in my throat every time I thought of his cursed words. I tilted my head at the bundles. “What’s in them?”

He began unwrapping the first, smaller bundle. “You’ve seen this before,” he said, revealing the emerald-encrusted box. “It belonged to Queen Erin. There is something about her that few people knew. Indeed, I did not know it myself until I took this box after her death and saw the contents.” He slid a thin bronze key into the lock and opened the box. All I could see were a few folded papers.

“What are they?”

He handed them to me. “You will put these in your pocket. I think we have more than enough to earn your identity, but it’s always wise to have a backup.”

I unfolded the papers and an inadvertent gasp escaped me. I had known my mother was artistic but did not appreciate her abilities while I was a child. It was a simple sketch of me at about the age I would have been when she and my father first sent me away.

I became fixed on the way she drew my eyes. Not with the arrogance or defiance the castle artists inevitably gave me, but with the subtle details only a mother would notice, as if she saw things about her son that everyone else missed. Looking at the pictures, I saw myself the way she must have seen me, and as I gently brushed my thumb over the drawing, I felt her love for me.

Then I noticed Conner studying me as I looked at the drawing. I quickly folded it and shoved it in a pocket of my tunic.

Conner continued to watch me. “Prince Jaron?”

I scratched my face. “Guess I’ll have to get used to people calling me that. Do you think I can eventually pick up Sage as a nickname?”

“No, you cannot.” Conner smiled and his expression relaxed. “But I suppose I should begin calling you Jaron, to get you used to it.” He hesitated. “For a moment there, I thought —”

“What’s in the other package?” I asked.

It was a sufficient distraction. “Ah!” Conner set the box down and began unwrapping the other bundle. “This is the proof that will seal your identity. When the prince boarded the ship that day four years ago, he was wearing his crown. It has been lost all this time, assumed to be at the bottom of the sea. Indeed, even if a diver had found it with the intention of putting forward a false prince, the metals and jewels of the crown would have been damaged by the salty waters. But see it for yourself.” He finished unwrapping the bundle and pulled out the crown I had last worn on that ship.

It was a circlet of gold, with rubies set at the base of every arch, and was trimmed in braided gold bands. The crown had been made for me to grow into, so I suspected it would fit better now than it used to. It was in perfect condition, other than a dent I’d created when I fell from a tree once while wearing it.

“The pirates rescued this from the ship before it sank,” Conner said. “They presented it to me as proof of Jaron’s death.”

I’d left the crown behind before I snuck off the ship. I had intended it as a symbol of my having abandoned the royal family forever.

“Face the mirror,” Conner said.

I obeyed, and watched as he set the crown on my head. The weight of it resurrected a flood of memories for me. As of that moment, I was the prince again. And soon the entire country would know it.

BOOK: The False Prince
8.43Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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