“I work for Conner, not you.” Then after a moment, he sighed tiredly and added, “After all this, the master is still considering you. That says a lot. It’s time to stop thinking of yourself as an orphan and look at yourself as a prince.”
“I will always be an orphan now.” And for the first time in as long as I could remember, I cried. I cried for my lost family, and for every circumstance in my life that had led me here. Mott held my forehead until calm slowly returned to me.
“Forgive me,” I mumbled.
“You’re half-starved and exhausted,” he said. “Forgive me that it was my job to bring this upon you.”
Moments later, Cregan returned. He handed the new bandage to Mott and then stood back as Mott carefully peeled away the rest of the old one.
“Give me a light,” he directed Cregan.
Cregan handed him a candle, which they held close to me. “It’s going to scar,” Mott said. “It cut deeper than I had thought. But I think, so far, we saved it from any infection.” They poured more of the liquid onto the cut. I clawed at the floor for relief from the pain but made little sound. There was no energy for that.
The sting passed and they wrapped me in a new bandage. It took both Mott’s and Cregan’s help to get me dressed, then they walked me up the stairs. The early morning light was fierce on my eyes and I stumbled backward, anything to get away from so much sun.
“Get him some water,” Mott said to someone nearby while still holding me firmly.
A cup appeared and Mott pressed it to my lips. I took a few sips, then turned my head away. The light didn’t hurt so badly now. I faintly realized how much I’d missed seeing it.
“We can’t delay any longer,” Mott said. “Let’s take him to Conner.”
They sat me in a chair facing Conner’s desk. Conner stared at me for what seemed like an eternity, and then said, “You look terrible.”
I said nothing.
“If you learn nothing else during your time here, Sage, perhaps you will learn not to defy me. You were two nights down there; did you know it’s been so long? I hope you had time to reflect that disobedience to me will bring you nothing but misery.”
Again, I had no response. It occurred to me that obedience to him offered its own form of misery, but I wasn’t going to tell him that. Besides, it hurt to talk.
Conner nodded at Mott, who brought out a tray and set it on Conner’s desk. It was filled with items I recognized as having come from various hiding places around my bed and my drawers.
Conner picked up a few things that I’d pickpocketed over the last few days: a butter knife, a gold cuff link, several coins. “No need to ask about these,” he said. “You’ve obviously managed to find time amongst your other studies to steal from me and those in this household.”
Yes, that was obvious, so I remained silent.
Then Conner picked up some papers. “But I must ask about these. Do you know what’s on them?”
“I don’t know what you’re looking at,” I mumbled.
“They’re notes someone made. Whoever wrote them seems to have detailed some strange plans. They may be interpreted as ways to get rid of me should he become king. Everything from the rather nonoffensive appointing me as a foreign ambassador to poisoning my wine. Who wrote this, Sage?”
I shook my head. “Is your name on it?”
“Of course not. As I said, this is only my interpretation of the notes. Tell me who wrote them so I can ask about it.”
“I wanted to practice writing with my right hand. I found these in a bin, set for fire kindling.”
“I must ask you directly, did you write these notes?”
I started to laugh, then choked on it as a pain thumped in my side. “You can’t think I’m that foolish.”
“Roden couldn’t have made these notes either,” Conner said. “It must be Tobias.”
“Ask him, then.”
“I think not,” Conner said. “I believe I’ll let Tobias rest secure in the belief that he’s in the lead for my decision. The more confident he is, if he authored these pages, that overconfidence will guide him to expose himself.” Conner chuckled, and then added, “I’m sure this secret is safe between you and me, correct?”
He didn’t wait for a response and I offered none. Conner stood and walked over to me. He lifted my face and inspected it for cuts or bruises. “You’re none the worse after a stay in my dungeons. I hope the experience humbled you.”
He took the blank expression on my face as an answer and continued, “You’re a difficult young man, Sage, but I suspect that comes from your lack of discipline and supervision, which means I can train it out of you. I’ve heard that down in the dungeons, you told Mott you would be my prince. Is that so?”
“You need me.”
“Why is that?”
It took a few seconds to collect my breath to answer. “Tobias and Roden can’t convince the regents. I can.”
“So you’ll be their prince,” Conner said. “But will you be my prince?”
Slowly, I nodded. Conner smiled and said, “You have one more week to prove it to me. Sleep today and you’ll resume lessons tomorrow. Now go get some rest.”
He never asked me about the rock, but he got what he really wanted. I had promised to be his prince.
Once 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?”