I folded my arms resolutely. “I’m not sitting in a chair meant for a five-year-old. Get me a real chair.”
Master Graves arched his head so that he could better look down on me. “You are Sage, obviously. I was warned about you. Young man, do not mistake me for one of Conner’s servants. I am a gentleman and a scholar, and I will have your respect. You will sit in the chair I have available.”
Since he was clearly still around to keep me from running away, I called for Mott to come in. When he ducked his head in the room, I said, “Master Graves thinks he’s not one of Conner’s servants. But you are. I need a chair.”
“You have one,” he said, nodding to the one beside Roden.
“It’s too small. I can’t learn that way.”
“Too bad. Sit down.”
“Okay, but when Roden and I don’t learn our letters, you can explain to Conner why.”
Mott sighed and left the room. He returned several minutes later with a larger chair in each hand. Master Graves was incensed and said, as punishment for my disruption, I would have to write my letters an extra ten times that day.
“Ten times the better I’ll know them, then,” I said. “How strange that you should punish me by ensuring I come out more educated than Roden, who has tried to obey you.”
Graves’s knuckles were nearly as white as the chalk when he began instructing us on the sounds of the letters. Roden actually seemed interested and tried hard to keep up with Graves. I fell asleep around the letter M.
Graves was gone when Mott shook me awake some time later. “He called you incorrigible,” Mott said. “Honestly, Sage, are you trying to fail?”
“I already told you I could read a little. This morning was a waste of my time.”
“I thought it was great.” Roden sounded happier than I’d ever heard him. “I never expected to be able to read, and Master Graves said he’ll have me in a children’s reader by tomorrow.”
“Great. Let me know what the children’s reader has to say about impersonating a prince.”
Earlier that morning, servants had brought us a small breakfast of hard-boiled eggs and milk to eat while we studied. With such a paltry beginning, it was no surprise that both Roden and I were already hungry again.
“You’ll eat after your next lessons,” Mott said.
“What lessons?” I asked.
“History of Carthya. Then a lunch. Then you’ll do sword fighting, horseback riding, dinner and etiquette with the master, and tonight you will study in preparation for your lessons tomorrow.”
Roden slapped me on the shoulder. “He’ll make gentlemen of us yet!”
I nodded but stayed silent. The thought of what Conner was making us into deserved no celebration.
All three of us shared the afternoon history lessons, which was a waste of Tobias’s time because he already knew the answer to every question. He spoke so quickly, there was no point in Roden and I even attempting to speak, even if we had known the answers.
Our history tutor was Mistress Havala, who Tobias said had taught him other lessons earlier that day. She was past the age of marriage, which was curious because she seemed like a pleasant enough person. She had a round face with curly black hair that bounced a lot, and made a great effort to avoid any discussion of the real reasons why Conner had brought us here, even though it was clear she knew. There was a nervousness about her, yet her easy smile and gentle nature were a welcome respite from the serious demeanor everyone else on this estate seemed to have. I wondered what would happen to her at the end of these two weeks.