The False Prince (Ascendance 1)

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?”