The Runaway King
Page 13

There was heat in my glare at him. “Perhaps you also want a steward for me, then, a nursemaid for the crown.”
“Maybe you need one.” Mott sighed loudly as if that would make me change my mind. Even though it would have been unfair to leave without warning them, I almost wished I’d have done it so we could’ve enjoyed this evening instead.
Getting nothing further from me, Mott put his hand on my arm. I looked up at him as he said, “If you must leave, then you will have to figure out how to bring me along, because I will not leave you alone. Whatever reckless plan is in that foolish, royal head of yours, it will have to accommodate me.”
I pulled away and swiped my other arm through the air, knocking over the bottle of cider on the table. Mott jumped back to avoid the splatter as it ran onto the floor.
I cursed, then stood and ran my fingers through my hair. “Give me until morning, Mott. I have a foolish, royal headache and I’m too tired to think about changing plans tonight.”
Mott nodded and wished me a good night before I had time to change my mind. Which was completely unnecessary because I had no intention of changing any part of the plan. It was true that my head throbbed and even more true that I was tired. But whether I waited all night or all month, one thing would remain the same: I was going on alone.
Tobias was deeply asleep and didn’t hear me enter his room late that night. I hadn’t poured him much of the cider, but he still got some of the sleeping powder I’d found in Conner’s office.
When I shook his arm, his eyes opened and he awoke with a start. I put a finger to my lips to warn him to be silent. Yet his voice was still too loud as he whispered, “Jaron? What’s going on?”
“I’m going to talk and you will listen. Agreed?”
He nodded stiffly. I sat in the chair near his desk while he rolled out of bed. I could almost hear his heart pounding from here. Or was it mine?
Despite our agreement, Tobias spoke first. “You’re still leaving? You told Mott you’d change your plans.”
“No, I told Mott I was too tired to think about changing plans,” I corrected him. “Big difference.”
“But Mott was right before. Nobody comes back from the pirates. Maybe you’ll kill Devlin, but how will you escape all the others?”
I grimaced with a pang of worry at that question. The truth was, I had no answer for him. All I knew was that my odds of succeeding were no better in Carthya. At least this way, I faced the pirates on my own terms.
“Just wait a few days and think this over,” he said.
“I don’t have a few days. If I can’t fix everything before the regents’ vote on the steward, I will be powerless to fix it afterward.”
“There’s not enough time.”
“Then stop wasting it. Now hush, I need you to do something for me.”
“What is it?”
I removed the king’s ring from my finger and set it on the desk. I hadn’t taken it off since the night I was crowned and was surprised by the difference in weight of my hand. “I don’t want the regents to think I’m hiding — that only makes their vote against me that much easier. You and Mott must return to Drylliad in the morning.” I nodded toward a stack of my clothes on a chest in the room. “You will return as me. We look enough alike that with the ring and in the shadows of my carriage, you won’t have any trouble getting through the front gate. Be sure to arrive at night so that you can get to my quarters under the cover of darkness. Mott will help you avoid seeing anyone. Have him make up a story, that the king is ill or that the king is embarrassed and doesn’t want to see anybody. Tell anyone who asks that the king prefers to hide from the pirates in the comfort of his room.”
“Jaron, no,” Tobias whispered, shaking his head.
I continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “They might ask you a question at the gate. It’s a request for a password and the way for the vigil to verify that you’re Jaron. I changed the password myself this morning. The question will be what does the king want for dinner. The answer is that you know what the king wants and it has nothing to do with dinner.”
Tobias smiled, despite himself. “What does the king want, then?”
“He wants you to hush and pay attention. There’s a letter in the pocket of my clothes for Amarinda. Give it to her and answer any questions she may have, if you can. She’ll be angry, but I think she’ll help you maintain your cover.”
“Angry?” Tobias said. “She’ll be furious, and that’s if she believes us. What if she accuses us of trying to take over the kingdom?”
“The letter will explain things,” I said. “Amarinda is fully capable of making any necessary decisions, so all you need to do is remain in my apartments. I’ve spent so much time alone since I became king, nobody will question that.”
“Is that why —”
I sighed. “Don’t attempt to understand me, Tobias. I can’t even do that. Now, what do you suppose happened to our old clothes from when we were here?”
I already knew the answer to that. The nicer ones had been stolen away by the servants who had worked here. But my old clothes from when I was brought here as Sage were still in the drawer of my old wardrobe. Nobody wanted them.
I peeled off my royal clothing and tossed it onto the trunk, then put on Sage’s clothes: the worn trousers that had been too long on me when I first got them and were bordering on too small now; the shirt that one of Conner’s servants had mended, and even so, was riddled with several small tears; and my old boots that still fit fine, due to the fact that I’d only recently stolen them before Conner had taken me from the orphanage. They had a hole in the right toe, but that only bothered me during rainstorms.
It was as if everything about Sage returned to me once I stood again in his clothing. The instinct to trick when I could and lie when I must. The feeling that no matter how hard I tried, I would never be anything better than a sewer rat.
“I can’t do this,” Tobias said as I finished dressing.
“If you fail, then I will fail. Tobias, you must do this. Mott will want to follow me, but you can’t allow that. If he does, he’ll expose me, and then I really will be in danger.”
Slowly he nodded. “After you leave, if I don’t go running to Mott and tell him what’s happened, he’ll kill me. Literally.”
“There’s a solution to that, but you won’t like it.” I smiled, then reached for the sheet on Tobias’s bed. I ripped the fabric down its length and told him to put his arms behind his back. “I’ve got to make this tight. Mott will be suspicious if I don’t.”
“It’s all right,” Tobias said, holding out his arms. “Odd that I should be thanking you for this.”
I tied him to the bed, then gagged him, although I left that a little loose so his breathing wouldn’t be uncomfortable.
“Do not fail,” I said to Tobias when the knots were finished. “We will see each other again.”
Moments later I slipped quietly out of Farthenwood, and from the stables chose Mystic, one of the faster horses. Other than a white star on his forehead, Mystic was as black as tar and more loyal to his rider than any courser I’d ever before ridden. He was also well groomed, so anyone who saw him would assume I’d stolen the horse, which in a way, I had. When he was saddled, I climbed astride and in minutes had left Farthenwood behind.