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.”