“And may I ask when you last saw them?”
“It’s been a few weeks,” Conner said. “Before their trip to Gelyn.”
“And they were well?”
“Certainly.”
Amarinda’s father spoke up. “Then the rumor cannot be true.” He heaved a sigh of relief and took his wife’s hand. She also looked relieved.
“Rumors have always surrounded the royal family,” Conner said, as if the matter were settled. “It’s the cheapest entertainment for everyday folk.”
There was laughter at the table, except for Amarinda, whose solemn voice took control of the room. “I heard they’re dead. Murdered.” The laughter fell silent, and she continued, “All three of them, poisoned during supper and dead by morning.”
Mott glanced at me from his position and shook his head, warning me not to react. I forced a disinterested, blank expression onto my face, despite the churning in my stomach. If I reacted, Conner would change the subject. But I needed them to continue talking about it, because no matter how easily he could avoid giving us more details, he’d have a harder time dodging the princess. However, the one question at the top of my mind was one I knew she’d never ask: Would the person who steps in as the prince become the next victim?
Conner leaned forward and clasped his hands together. “Highness, you are scheduled to be at the castle in Drylliad tomorrow, correct?” When she nodded, he said, “Let the rumor lie until then. Whether it’s true or false, it will be verified once you’re there.”
“Waiting is more easily said than done.” Amarinda’s voice was heavy with sadness. “If there’s no heir, there’s no betrothed princess. I’ll be a widow without having married.”
“Even if the rumor is true, there may be another way,” Conner said. “Perhaps all is not lost for you, or for Carthya.”
Amarinda arched an eyebrow, curious. Conner waited several seconds to continue, which I knew was to increase her anticipation. It was heartless, even cruel. Finally, he said, “What if Prince Jaron were alive?”
Amarinda froze. Everyone at the table did, except Conner, who was enjoying this moment far too well. He manipulated those around him as though we were all pawns in his twisted game. I hated that my life had become entwined with his.
Finally, Amarinda’s mother said, “Everyone knows Prince Jaron was killed by pirates four years ago. Are you telling us this is not so?”
“I’m only saying that there is always hope.” Conner then addressed himself to Amarinda. “Highness, perhaps you may soon claim the throne after all.”
“Am I that shallow?” Amarinda stood, angry. “Do you think I cared about the throne and not the prince? You talk about Jaron’s return as if it would solve all our problems, but it’s Darius who concerns me. I need to know if he is alive!” She closed her eyes a moment, regaining calm, then said more softly, “You must forgive me, but I’d like to return to my room. I have a headache.”
Her father rose to escort her out, but she raised a hand to stop him. “No, Father, you should stay and continue the evening. My ladies will accompany me.”
“My man will see you to your room,” Conner said, gesturing at Mott.
Amarinda eyed me, and I lowered my head, willing her to look anywhere else. “That boy can see me there.”
Conner hesitated, then smiled and nodded his permission at her. I wondered if perhaps he wasn’t allowed to refuse her, or maybe he liked her suggestion. I didn’t.
“I don’t know the way, Highness,” I said. It was a stupid lie and poorly told. Hers was the room where I had bathed on my first day at Farthenwood.
“I do. All I ask is for an escort.”
Conner waved me away, so I bowed to her and we walked out into Conner’s great hallway. I led the way up the master staircase, which seemed endless on this trip. All I wanted was to take her to her room, then get away.
Behind me, Amarinda said, “You’ve obviously never escorted royalty before. Do you expect me to keep up with you at this speed? I set the pace, boy.”
I stopped, but did not turn around. “My apologies,” I mumbled.
“You do not have my forgiveness yet. Let’s see how you do from here.”
When she was close behind me, I continued walking, slower this time. “What is your name?” she asked.
“Sage.”
“That’s it?”
“I’m a servant, Highness. Do I require more of a name?”