Conner spoke above the chuckles of his peers. “They didn’t let anyone through at the gate. No doubt the prince will punish the guards there for failing to recognize him.”
“If he were the prince, he would have known how to get through. The royals always know how to get through.”
“He must have forgotten.” Conner’s face paled, and he held on to the table for support. “But Prince Jaron will be here. Then you’ll see.”
Hearing footsteps in the hallway, he turned to the doors of the throne room expectantly. Almost as if on cue, someone did enter. But it was not who he hoped to see.
“Mott?” Conner said.
“Only regents are allowed in this meeting,” Veldergrath said. “You may wait with the other guests and nobles in the great hall. That’s where the new king will greet his people.”
But Mott seemed to see only Conner in the room. “He isn’t here? He came through the kitchen a long time ago.”
“Perhaps your false prince is lost in the castle,” another regent said, to laughter in the room.
“He grew up here. Of course he’s not lost.” It was an attempt at confidence, but desperation cut too clearly through Conner’s words.
“I propose we continue this meeting.” Veldergrath waited until all eyes were on him and then added, “We must not keep the people waiting. And I’m sure whoever is chosen as king will want to speak to Lord Conner on the subject of treason.”
Then something must have happened in the adjoining room, the great hall where hundreds of citizens had gathered to wait for the announcement of the new king. What had been a steady hum of conversation suddenly fell completely silent.
Behind Mott, a castle servant burst through the doors. “Forgive me, regents,” he said, forgetting the customary bow of his head. “But you should all come into the great hall. As quickly as possible.”
Although they were twenty men and women of great status and power, well trained in decorum and manners, no one would have known it by the way they hurried from the throne room. The only one who did not push his way out was Kerwyn, who slid through a secret door between the throne room and the great hall. He was the first to see what had caused the entire crowd in the great hall to fall silent.
For Prince Jaron was standing at the head of the room.
I was in no hurry. All that mattered was the order in which I completed this plan. I stood on the dais at the head of the room, the platform reserved for royalty or the courtiers required near them in this formal setting. Behind me were the thrones of the king, queen, and Darius. Jaron’s throne was no longer here. I wondered how long I’d been gone before it was carried away.
The room was filled with a few hundred people, none of whom I recognized. But they clearly recognized me. I had come through a door connecting directly from the private rooms of the royal family. There was no announcement of my arrival, but apparently it hadn’t been necessary. Their wide eyes and total silence while staring at me confirmed that.
I saw Kerwyn come through the door from the throne room, where he and the other regents had been meeting. Him I recognized. He’d hardly changed over the past four years, still a powerful presence, and someone I’d always respected. From his expression, it was obvious he knew who I was supposed to be. But he seemed to be fighting his own eyes.
“Who are you?” Kerwyn asked, cautious as always.
The first order of business was to withdraw my sword — the real sword belonging to Prince Jaron. Before leaving the castle four years ago, I had hidden it beneath a loose floorboard in my old room, accessible only by crawling under the bed. My room had remained exactly as it was the night I left. My sword was still there as well, and other than a thin blanket of dust, it looked exactly as it had before.
I balanced the sword horizontally on both hands and knelt before Kerwyn as he approached me.
“You know me, Lord Kerwyn. I am that boy who burned the throne room, the boy who challenged the king of Mendenwal to a duel. I am the younger prince of Carthya. I am Jaron.” A whisper passed through the room. Kerwyn seemed unimpressed, but he was still listening.
I stood, but pointed to a nick in the blade of the sword. “After I lost the duel to that king, I threw this sword in anger, and it hit a sharp corner of the castle wall. You later returned it to me privately and said that if I don’t respect my sword, no one will respect me. Then you apologized because you had also heard what the king said about my mother, but you hadn’t dared to challenge him.”
Kerwyn faltered a moment, then recovered. “Someone could have overheard that.”
“Perhaps so, but it was I you spoke to that day.” Without taking my eyes off his, I reached into my pocket and pulled out a small golden rock. It was the last gift my father had ever given me, inside the satchel at the church. Since I stole it back from Conner, it had never been hidden especially well. Anyone who wished to venture high onto the ledges of Farthenwood would have found it. Later, I moved the rock to the bank of the stream on the outskirts of Conner’s estate, where it hid in its careful place amongst a thousand other ordinary rocks. “This is for you.” I pressed the stone into Kerwyn’s hand.
Kerwyn turned it over in his hands, unimpressed. “Imitator’s gold? It’s worthless.”
“No, it’s real gold. I am real, Lord Kerwyn.”
Tears filled Kerwyn’s eyes. He pulled a creased and worn paper from his pocket and unfolded it. His hands shook increasingly as he read it. Then he turned to the audience and said, “This note was given to me by King Eckbert about a month after Prince Jaron’s ship was attacked four years ago. I was instructed to keep it with me at all times and to read it only if someone ever came forward claiming to be the prince. This is what it says.” He read aloud, “‘Many may one day claim to be the lost prince of Carthya. They will be well rehearsed and some may even look the part. You will know Prince Jaron by one sign alone. He will give you the humblest of rocks and tell you it is gold.’” Kerwyn folded the paper again, and then said to the audience, “Lords and ladies of Carthya, I present to you the son of King Eckbert and Queen Erin. He is the lost royal of Carthya, who lives and stands before you. Hail, Prince Jaron.”
Then he turned to me and fell to his knees. He took my hand in his and pressed the note into my palm, then kissed the back of my hand.
In turn, everyone in the room sank to their knees and said, “Hail, Prince Jaron.”
Kerwyn looked up at me, and a single tear fell onto his cheek. “Your pants are filthy, as if you rolled in the dirt before coming here. I would expect nothing less from the boy I remember.”
I smiled. “I’ve come home. Do you know me now?”
“In a crowd of a thousand boys claiming to be the prince, there would be only one with the same look of trouble in his eye. I promise never to forget you again.”
Suddenly, as well as I thought I had everything planned out, I was at a loss. Should I tell them to rise, or issue a command? They were all watching me, waiting for what I’d do next.
There was only one person in the room who had failed to kneel. Bevin Conner stood at the back of the room, frozen. I walked into the crowd, which stood and magically parted before me.
Conner found his words and spoke them slowly. “It cannot be. You — I suspected it once or twice, but … was I blind?”
“You saw who you wanted to see, Conner, nothing more.”
“He sees nothing but a fraud, and so do I,” Veldergrath said from behind me. “This is clearly an impostor.”
I turned and smiled at him. “You are relieved of your duties as prime regent, Lord Veldergrath.” Then to Conner I said, “See how I keep my promises? For now, you are my new prime regent.”
Conner didn’t return the smile. He was still more frozen than not.