Page 23 of The Prince's Curse

And as if that wasn’t bad enough, the more his father’s health declined, the more time the king spent looking toward Haldric’s future and the future of the kingdom. King Roland knew aswell as Haldric did how inadequate he was for the job, how unprepared he still was to assume his sister’s lost mantle even after two years of remedial education to make up for his skipped lessons.

But they both also knew that such was Haldric’s burden to bear. The Goddess willed as she wished, and if this was the path she’d set before him, then so be it. He’d discarded the childish dreams he’d once had of attending the Arcanum and focused instead on becoming the best heir he could be. Whatever it took, he refused to let his father and the people of Ilthabard down.

Nodding to the royal guards standing watch outside his father’s door, Haldric entered the chamber, calling out a greeting. “Good evening, Father. Sorry I’m late. I was…”

The words died on his lips as he took in the room’s other occupants. He wasn’t surprised to see Grand Magus Dexil there, dressed in his usual elaborate finery. These days, the alchemist spent more evenings than not attending to the king’s deteriorating condition with his array of magical remedies.

No, it was the other figure who gripped Haldric’s attention, their familiar gray eyes widening in apparent shock.

“Greetings, Your Highness,” Dexil said with a slight incline of his head. “Apologies for our late presence here—we’re almost done.”

“Haldric!” his father called from his bed. The silken sheets rustled as he shifted to sit up with a groan. “It’s good to see you, Son.”

“Y-you, too, Father,” Haldric said. His confused glaze flicked back to the boy inexplicably here with Dexil.

Dexil caught the look and smacked his forehead. “Forgive me my rudeness, Your Highness. This is Benjin. I believe you met briefly the other day. He is my new apprentice.”

“Your…apprentice…” Haldric spoke slowly, feeling like he’d missed some crucial piece of a puzzle. Instead of banishing the impertinent boy, Dexil had chosen tohirehim?

“Indeed, Your Highness.” Either oblivious of Haldric’s discomfort or choosing to ignore it, Dexil flashed a broad grin. “It turns out that Benjin here is quite the gifted mage. With a little training, I believe he’ll prove a most distinguished asset for Ilthabard.”

Somehow, Haldric found that difficult to believe. No matter how much runeflame this Benjin had, he anddistinguisheddidn’t belong in the same sentence. Not if his behavior at their last meeting was anything to go by.

“You’re the prince!” Benjin blurted, still staring at Haldric. His gray eyes widened another fraction as if he hadn’t meant to speak, and he clamped his hands over his mouth.

Exhausted from his long day and the memory of his previous run-in with Benjin still fresh in his mind, Haldric felt his patience fray. “Indeed. Was it the honorifics that gave it away or my presence here in the royal bed chambers?” He feigned deep contemplation, tapping a finger against his chin. “Hmm, or perhaps it was the king calling meson?”

Benjin flushed a deep crimson while his eyes narrowed. “Sorry if I’ve given offense,Your Highness. Your behavior when we first met just didn’t seem particularly princely, that’s all.”

The jab hurt more than it was likely meant to with how perfectly it echoed Haldric’s own internal doubts. “Perhaps you lack the proper conception of what a prince should act like. After all, it’s clear that your education in court etiquette is rather lacking.”

Triumph gripped Haldric at Benjin’s furious scowl. It morphed to shame, however, when his father’s rumbling voice filled the chamber.

“Come now, Haldric, there’s no need to be rude. I’m certain Dexil knew what he was doing when he selected his new apprentice. Give the boy a chance to settle in. It must be difficult to adjust to life in the palace. Isn’t that right, Benjin?”

Fixing Haldric with a final brief glare, Benjin faced the king’s bed and bowed. “Yes, Your Majesty. It’s, um, quite the adjustment. Forgive me if I’ve given any offense.”

Haldric bit his tongue while his father smiled at the insufferable brat. “None taken, lad. Now then, why don’t you and your master finish your work so that my son and I can eat before I grow too weary.”

Haldric crossed his arms and tried not to scowl as he watched Benjin assist the Grand Magus. He knew he should probably apologize for his behavior, but Benjin’s taunts had burrowed under his skin.

Besides, it was obvious the boy didn’t have the slightest idea what he was doing. Dexil had to constantly stop his ministrations to explain each minute aspect of the potion he was administrating well enough for Benjin to replicate the simple process. Haldric had to resist the urge to step in and do it himself. It would’ve taken a quarter of the time.

Eventually, Benjin bumbled his way through. Channeling a final burst of runeflame into the prepared liquid, Dexil gave it a quick stir before proffering it to the king. From past experience, Haldric knew it contained an enchanted elixir to ease the king’s pain and help him sleep. That was about the best anyone seemed able to offer his father these days.

Which is why it’s so important I excel at my studies.

Straightening his back and keeping his shoulders rigid, Haldric adopted the mask of cool indifference he’d been practicing—the face of a stalwart ruler. Still, he couldn’t help his soft wince at his father’s hacking cough when he downed the potion.

With a bow to Haldric, Dexil swept out of the chamber, an amused twinkle in his violet eyes. Benjin followed after, much more subdued. Haldric could feel the boy’s gaze on him once more but refused to give him the satisfaction of looking. Let Benjin realize how inconsequential his jabs were.

With Dexil and Benjin departed, King Roland called for his servants to bring in dinner. Haldric assumed his usual place by his father’s bedside, thanking the servant who set a platter of bread and hearty meat stew before him. Stews and soups had become his father’s favored meals—easier on his digestion.

“So, how are your studies going?” the king asked, slurping up a spoonful of soup. Haldric pretended not to notice the bits of it that dribbled onto the front of his pajamas. “Fendrel tells me you’re a natural at the blade.”

Though part of Haldric basked at the praise, a deeper part of him knew he didn’t deserve it. “The marshal honors me, but I fear he exaggerates my potential.”

“Nonsense!” The king crunched into a hearty bite of bread. “Fighting runs in your veins, Haldric, even if you never wanted to accept it.”

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