Page 88 of The False Prince (Ascendance 1)

“Not mine,” I said firmly. Nothing in me could accept a life like this. Roden quickly agreed.

“You know what little you must,” Jean finally said. “Now make yourselves useful in here. There is always too much to do, and if we have you on loan, we’ll use you.”

She showed us a pile of dishes that needed to be washed. I pointed out there was really only room for two dishwashers and assigned myself the job of kneading dough at the other side of the room. Roden and Tobias didn’t seem to care, so Jean gave in and waved me away.

I wandered over to the wood counter in the corner and picked up a lump of dough. After a minute, Imogen entered the kitchen, and Jean directed her to come over and help me. To my surprise, she didn’t seem to object, and only moved a set of kitchen knives out of my way, giving herself room beside me to knead another lump of dough.

“I’ve done this before,” I said, working my fingers into the warm dough. “It was one of the jobs at the orphanage. But the dough here is much better. We ate from a lot of charity ingredients before, which almost always meant whatever was unfit for the upper classes.” She glanced at me and I continued. “I don’t see why the upper classes object to food with weevils in it. They’re very nutritious.”

That finally earned a real smile, even though it was far from the funniest thing I’d ever said to her. Then I realized the smile wasn’t about me; something in her had changed.

“You’re different,” I said quietly.

Without looking up at me, she nodded. She couldn’t tell me what it was, but she didn’t need to. There was less fear in her than before.

“Imogen!” a tall, square-cut man shouted from the far end of the kitchen. Based on his clothing, he was one of Conner’s chefs. “Lazy girl!”

Imogen swung around. I started forward, but she grabbed my wrist to hold me back.

“Isn’t that dough ready yet?” he said. “I’ve got to have it baked by this evening!”

“How could she have finished?” I scowled. “Every time she walked in here, you sent her out with another job!”

The chef crossed to me and shoved me against the brick wall. Pain lit across my bruised back and throughout my body. But I somehow held my tongue. “Don’t tell me how to operate in my kitchen!” he snarled.

“Let him go!” Mott said, entering the kitchen. He grabbed my shirt and yanked me away from the chef’s grasp, then motioned for Tobias and Roden to follow him. “We’re finished here.” As we walked out, he said to me, “Can’t you go anywhere without causing a problem?”

“Is that who gives Imogen her bruises?” I asked.

Mott clenched his jaw. “It’s clear that if you work from the kitchen tonight, one of you will end up killing the other. I’ll assign you different duties.” Then with a parting glare, he walked ahead of us.

Tobias and Roden caught up to me as we followed Mott.

“He hurt your back,” Roden said. “I can tell by the way you’re walking.”

“My back is fine.” It wasn’t true, but I felt braver for saying it.

“It’s your own fault if he did hurt it,” Tobias said. “Why do you do it?”

I shrugged. “What?”

“Aggravate people the way you do. You seem bent on making enemies here.”

“And you insist on making false friends. They’re no different. Don’t you ever get tired of pretending to be something you’re not?”

“Like the prince?” Tobias arched his head. “No, I could pretend to be him for the rest of my life. Don’t judge me just because you’re not able to do the same.”

His words hit me too close, and I fell behind him and Roden as we walked back to our rooms. We both knew he’d won that round.

We were secluded in our room when the betrothed princess arrived later that night. Roden suggested I sneak out and bring back a report of what she was like, which I was perfectly willing to do, but Tobias said he’d tell Mott if I left.

“You can’t have the advantage of seeing the princess before we do,” Tobias said. “Knowing you, you’ll convince her tonight that you are the prince, and she’ll have you crowned at the castle before Roden and I are awake tomorrow.”

I snorted, and then said, “Now that you’re onto me, I’ll have to figure out an even cleverer plan.” Mocking Tobias was risky, and probably unfair. But it was usually too hard to resist. I grabbed one of the books off his desk and brought it back to my bed, letting it fall open somewhere in the middle.

“What are you doing?”

“Mistress Havala said I’d have to study on my own to catch up. That’s what I’m doing.”