Page 10 of The Prince's Curse

The instant the man was gone, Benjin hurried forward. Though there’d been no outward signs of runeflame, something in Benjin’s gut screamed at him that the man had been another mage. Best to be long gone before he returned.

That helpful guard’s directions led him past the mage’s room and down another short hall lined with doors. A solitary guard stood outside one of them. That might mean the baron or someone else of importance slept there…or it could mean that’s where they were keeping the prisoner.

Only one way to find out.

“Goddess’ blessing upon you.” Benjin smiled as he strode toward the guard, straightening his back and acting like he had nothing to hide. “I’m here to relieve you.”

Instead of taking the offered out, the guard’s gaze narrowed with obvious suspicion. “My shift’s not supposed to end for another three hours.”

Benjin shrugged. “I’m just following orders. Take it up with the captain if you’ve got an issue with it.”

Far from appearing cowed, the man seemed more suspicious than ever. His fingers crept toward the hilt of his sword. “I don’t recognize you. What division are you with?”

Goddess’ mercy…OfcourseBenjin had found the only guard in Allaria not eager for an excuse to end their shift early. “I’m with the division ofDROP PRONE.”

Benjin imbued the last command with as much runeflame as he could manage. He wasn’t particularly skilled at Compulsion, but as he’d hoped, the command caught the guard by surprise. He was already halfway to the ground before he realized what was happening and jerked to a confused stop.

Remembering his close call outside, Benjin didn’t risk giving the guard time to recover. Wisps of runeflame curled around his fingers as he thrust out a hand. The soldier slammed into thewall with crushing force, his unconscious body crumpling to the floor.

Benjin winced, peering about him. That had beenmuchlouder than he’d expected, and without the benefit of a silence ward, the noise would’ve traveled far in the keep’s tight confines. Even worse, his crude spell had left his reserve of runeflame running perilously low.

Worried he’d hear shouts of alarm or running feet any second, he tried the door—locked, of course. A quick search of the knocked-out guard revealed no keys. Either they were concealed somewhere on his person, or someone else in charge had kept them.

Exhaling to calm his skittering nerves, Benjin pressed a hand to the door and channeled runeflame. Frustration clawed at him when his pathetic attempts to pick the lock failed. He wished he could blame it on his dwindling magic, but the truth was that no matter what strange spells he recalled, the finesse for something like this still eluded him.

Goddess take it!

Another blast of force sent the door crashing open. If he hadn’t made too much noise before, he certainly had now.

Barreling into the room, he expected to find Haldric awake and ready to go, especially after that last Evocation. Instead, the room was pitch black save the light entering from the doorway. A shadowed figure lay in the bed at the chamber’s far end.

“Wake up, Haldric!” Benjin called, striding quickly over. “We’ve got to go!”

When the prone figure still didn’t move, unease coiled through Benjin. What if Haldric had been drugged or put under some spell? By the Goddess, what if he was hurt?

Desperate now to see Haldric’s face and make sure he was all right, Benjin conjured a small ball of floating light. The pale illumination revealed Haldric jerking and shivering beneath thesheets. Sweat caked his hair to his forehead, and his lips twisted as if he were in terrible pain.

“Haldric?” Benjin asked uncertainly, stepping closer. “Are you okay?” He reached down, resting a hand on Haldric’s shoulder.

In an instant, Haldric jerked awake, his eyes flashing open and locking onto Benjin’s face. Recognition dawned in Haldric’s gaze, along with something that ripped Benjin’s heart in two, something he’d never expected to see on his husband’s face: Haldric staring at him with wide-eyed fear.

four

Haldric

Haldric’s mind was ajumbled collage of half-formed images. They danced before his eyes like the shattered reflections caught in a broken mirror, each lingering only long enough to confuse him further with their distorted familiarity.

A sickly man draped in crimson silks clutching at him with a trembling hand…

A bloody battle atop a hill, people shouting and screaming as swords clanged together and magic sizzled through the air…

Churning runeflame engulfing a stone chamber, washing over Haldric like an implacable tide and dragging him down, down into black depths…

That last image lingered the longest, returning again and again amid the other stolen glimpses. As he struggled to make sense of the hallucination(dream? memory?)a new figure resolved amid the whirlwind of silver-and-blue magic.

Benjin standing at the maelstrom’s heart, hands outstretched, reaching for him with wild, desperate eyes…

“Haldric? Are you okay?”

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