The False Prince (The Ascendance Trilogy #1)(22)

Most of it was a blur in my mind, so I didn’t bother answering.

Mott crouched beside me. “I told Conner he’s a fool to consider using you as his prince.”

“Princes ride in carriages, not on horseback,” I said.

“As it so happens, a prince will often ride on horseback.”

“Not with that horse.”

Mott grinned. “No, not that horse. Where is she?”

“Long gone. I can’t even tell you which direction.”

“Conner will be furious. He was going to have her broken soon. Are you hurt?”

“I think bruises are the worst of it. She stopped to get a drink of water and I fell off.”

Mott chuckled. “You stayed on through the ride and fell off when she stopped? Cregan’s going to laugh all night about that.”

I rolled the rest of the way out of the stream and pulled my legs up close to me. “Just tell him I stayed on through the ride. Or he’ll make lessons just as bad tomorrow.”

“Sorry, but at some point, you will have to learn that you can’t say whatever you want to whomever you want. There are consequences for your sharp tongue, and this is one of them. I hope it will prove to be your most valuable lesson today.”

Valuable lessons were code words for pain that no one apologized for. I’d had enough of them for a lifetime. “I’m cold. Can we go back?”

“You’ve got a cut on your cheek.”

I brushed a finger over it, though in the darkness of the woods and with my dirty hand, it was hard to tell if there was any blood on it. It didn’t feel wet. “I think it’s stopped bleeding.”

“Conner won’t like that. He doesn’t want to present a prince at court who’s got cuts and bruises all over him.”

“It’ll heal by then.” Mott extended an arm to help me onto the back of his horse. I stared at the ground for a moment, and then looked up at him. “I need your help, Mott. Conner’s never going to choose me just as I am.”

Mott took my hand and lifted me up. “Not as you are right now. Let’s get you back and cleaned up.”

“Did I miss sword fighting?”

“We canceled it to look for you.”

“What about dinner?”

“They’re eating right now.”

“I can only imagine how Roden and Tobias will talk about me to Conner.” It’d be a miracle if they didn’t talk him into hanging me at his earliest convenience.

Mott began riding us back to the stables. The springtime night had cooled, and I shivered in my wet clothes. Mott must have felt sorry for me because he spent most of the ride instructing me on how to manage a wild horse. Unfortunately, I had other things on my mind, so I missed most of the lecture. Too bad, because what I did hear actually sounded interesting.

Then Mott asked, “What’s your interest in Imogen?”

I shrugged. “Nothing. Why?”

“She passed me a note earlier today asking me to stop you from looking at her. So I’ll ask again, what’s your interest?”

“There’s nothing,” I insisted. “It’s just that she seems so anxious all the time. Is she safe here?”

Mott hesitated a moment, then said, “When the servants feel one of them has been singled out or favored, they tend to get jealous. That can become dangerous.”

I pondered that. “So you’re saying when I look at Imogen, it makes things worse for her?”

“It could, yes.”

Which left a horrible feeling inside me. I’d only looked at her to understand the cause of her fear, when in fact the cause of her fear was me looking at her.

As we neared the stables several minutes later, Mott said, “We were in a debate over whether you really can ride.”

“Oh?”

“Conner said he thought you could. He figured you had goaded Cregan into letting you have a horse so you could ride to your freedom. We weren’t sure we’d see you again after tonight.”

I chuckled lightly. “Yeah, that would’ve been a good plan.”

“So can you ride?” Mott asked. “Or are you really so stupid as to have gotten on a horse that was bucking like that?”

My soft laughter widened, then I grabbed my chest. “It hurts to laugh. I must’ve bruised a rib. If you want me to tell you I’m that stupid, I will. The evidence is there.”

Mott shook his head. “You don’t have to say it, Sage. But you do have to get yourself under control. These two weeks are going to pass fast, and you’re far behind the others.”





The aromas of spiced meat and fresh-baked bread were inescapable as Mott and I entered Farthenwood through a back entrance. The kitchen wasn’t far away.

“I’m getting dinner, right?” I asked.

“Someone will bring it to your room — after your bath.”

“Tell me, Mott, is it true that the wealthy smell worse than the poor?”

Mott arched an eyebrow. “Why do you say that?”

“It seems since joining Conner’s household that I’ve needed to bathe much more often. My fleas have all but abandoned me.”

“Let’s hope so,” Mott said with a chuckle. Then he handed me off to Errol for another scrubbing in a bath that had been set up in a corner of our bedroom.