The False Prince (The Ascendance Trilogy #1)(37)

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.





Mott 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.”