Page 14 of The Prince's Curse

Dexil paused near the heavyset wooden door to the cell and glanced back. The kindness and sorrow in his eyes made Benjin’s heart ache. “Before all this, you were like a son to me. And no matter what you may or may not have done, nothing will ever change that.” He bowed his head, and Benjin was surprised to see the glint of tears on his grizzled cheeks. “Besides,someoneshould be. I’m sorry, Benjin—truly, I am.”

And with that, the Grand Magus departed. The heavy door clanged shut behind him, and in his absence, Benjin somehow felt even more alone than ever.

Sometime later, after the first restful sleep Benjin had had in days thanks to Dexil’s potion, he heard the telltale sounds of another visitor. He eyed the door eagerly. Perhaps, the Grand Magus had come to visit him again.

His anticipation turned to shock when the door opened to reveal Haldric instead. Dressed in a fine leather tunic with a silver band set atop his brow, he looked every bit the prince he was supposed to be.

The sight turned Benjin’s stomach. If Haldric reallywasa prince, then that meant Benjin really was the dark sorcerer who had bewitched him.

His unease only deepened when a fierce-looking woman he didn’t recognize followed Haldric into the cell. She shot Benjin a furious glare, her fingers straying to the twin handles of axes at her hips.

“This is a terrible idea,” the woman said with the resigned tone of someone who fully expected their advice not to be heeded.

Sure enough, Haldric ignored her. His green eyes fixed on Benjin as if desperate to soak in the sight of him. Unable to hold Haldric’s gaze, Benjin looked away. Shame curled through him. He didn’t want Haldric to see him like this, especially if there was any glimmer of truth to the charges levied against him.

He’d thought of nothing else since the Grand Magus’ visit, and still he felt no closer to understanding what was going on. If his current memories were fake, the real ones continued to elude him beyond the occasional distorted fragment.

“Can’t you just wait for the ritual?” the woman said into the tense silence.

“Stay here and watch us if you must.” Haldric’s familiar voice was both balm and poison to Benjin’s ears. “But Ihaveto do this.”

Benjin snuck a glance at the woman in time to see her take up position in the doorway, grumbling about Haldric’s stubbornness. On that much, they could at least both agree. She watched warily as Haldric approached Benjin, stopping only a handful of paces away from the chains.

Benjin forced himself to meet Haldric’s concerned gaze. “Hi, Hal,” he croaked. “So, what have you been up to these past few days?” He jingled the manacles on his wrists securing him to the back wall. “Because I’ve just been hanging around here.”

Tears welled up in Haldric’s eyes, Benjin’s poor attempt at humor falling flat. He stretched out a shaky hand, his fingers trembling as he cupped Benjin’s cheek. Despite his shame and uncertainty, Benjin found himself leaning into the touch. All too soon, Haldric dropped his hand.

“I-I’m sorry I didn’t come to see you sooner.” Haldric’s soft words were as shaky as his hand had been. “I wanted to, but…”

“It’s okay.” Swallowing, Benjin studied the silver circlet set atop Haldric’s brow. It was too painful right now to focus on his face.

“None of this is okay! I tried to convince them to keep you somewhere more comfortable, but they insisted that you be interred here.” Haldric shot a glare at the woman guarding the door.

She offered an unapologetic shrug. “This cell is specially warded. No magic, runeflame or otherwise, will work within its walls. It is a necessary precaution when dealing with a dark wizard.”

“And the chains?” Haldric demanded. His angry gesture caught the nearest strand, rattling them. “He’s hardly a threat without his magic!”

“He took out a good half-dozen of my guards and got the drop on Marshal Fendrel,” the woman said with a hint of begrudging respect. “I will not apologize for doing everything I must to ensure he remains safely ensconced here until the ritual to restore your memories is complete.”

“It’s fine,” Benjin repeated, cutting off Haldric’s protests. “Really.” He licked his lips, attempting to sort his jumbled thoughts into words. “I…I’ve had plenty of time to think down here, and I understand now why you wouldn’t go with me. I should have listened when you said you wanted to stay and seek answers.”

“I never wanted to hurt you.” Haldric’s voice came out pleading, edged with desperation. “You know that, right? And I’ll do everything I can to protect you, no matter what the ritual reveals.”

“I know.” Benjin hung his head, afraid to ask the question that had haunted him most since Dexil’s visit. He forced the words out anyway. “Do you…do you believe all this about a curse? That you’re really the prince, and that I…”

He trailed off, unable to bring himself to finish the thought. Somehow, speaking it aloud made the possibility feel far too real.

Haldric looked away, pulling back. “How can I not?” he said quietly. “It’s the only explanation right now that seems to make any sense.”

Benjin wished he could deny it, could prove that Haldric was mistaken, but Dexil’s visit had left Benjin equally torn by doubt.

“I’d never do anything to hurt you either,” he said weakly, knowing it wasn’t enough. That the assurance meant far too little given their present circumstances.

Still, he was grateful when Haldric met his eyes and gave him a pained smile. “I know.”

“Time to go,” the woman barked from the doorway. “I allowed you this brief visit, Your Highness, but you can’t linger here—not while the boy’s insidious spell still grips your mind.”

Scowling, Haldric glanced at her and arched a brow. With the silver crown and his fine cloths, he pulled off the haughty look almosttoowell.

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