Page 25 of The Prince's Curse

Something constricted in Haldric’s chest. He briefly tightened his grip on his father’s hand, willing him to say more. But all that came out was a loud snore. Such was the way with Dexil’s nightly elixirs, the sleepiness often overtaking his father out of nowhere.

Letting King Roland’s hand fall gently to the blankets, Haldric rose and strode from the chamber, leaving his snoring father behind. He nodded stiffly at the servants and chirurgeons as he passed. Seized by a sudden, desperate urge to escape, he hurried down the hall toward his own quarters.

To his father, all this planning and preparing might be about securing Haldric’s future. Yet, if this was truly about seizing control, then why did Haldric feel more lost than ever?

nine

Benjin

Benjin stirred the bubblingflask with a thin glass rod. Faint wisps of runeflame flickered across the rod, seeping from Benjin’s fingers down into the potion.

“Good, good,” Dexil said, watching keenly. “Remember the pattern I showed you. If you don’t stir in the proper configuration, the ingredients won’t combine correctly.”

Benjin nodded, ignoring the sweat prickling his brow while he tried to recall the precise steps the Grand Magus had demonstrated. It had made a shape like a dragon’s fang—he recalled that much. But was it supposed to be two or three turns at the fang’s tip before he reversed direction?

His runeflame flared. The flask hissed, steam rising from it thanks to the heating enchantment Dexil had taught him.

“Careful now!” Dexil said. “Keep your flow of magic at the same rate or else the potion might backfire. Consistency, my boy—that’s the key when it comes to alchemy.”

Benjin gritted his teeth. That was easy for Dexil to say. He’d received a proper education at the Arcanum and spent years honing his craft. Benjin had only a two-week crash course in basic alchemy to draw upon.

Goddess’ mercy, he still didn’t even know why he was here. What had made the Grand Magus choosehimover all those far more qualified applicants from across the kingdom?

The flask holding the potion shivered, the liquid within turning a bright crimson. His eyes widening, Benjin had barely a second’s warning to throw himself to the side before the glass shattered in an eruption of wild magic. Flashes of multicolored light and heat seared the air above him.

Once the dusty haze and fizzling sparks had cleared, he lowered his arms from where he’d covered his head and glanced up from the floor. Dexil was studying him with a reproving frown. One of his necklaces glowed with an activated ward. The barrier of force it had conjured to shield him flickered and faded as he stepped forward and easily hauled Benjin to his feet.

“What’s the first rule of magic, lad?”

Benjin bowed his head. “Never lose your concentration.”

“That’s right.” Dexil glanced about his workshop. His violet gaze lingered on the scarred table where the potion had been and the fragments of scattered glass left by the destroyed flask. “Nothing a simple Restoration or two won’t fix. Why don’t you take a break while I tidy up?”

Nodding, Benjin trudged to the nearest chair and sank into it. Now that he wasn’t channeling runeflame, he could feel the full weight of his exhaustion. Dexil might be remarkably patient with Benjin’s many failures, but that didn’t make him any less demanding of a taskmaster. Between the Grand Magus’ grueling lessons and Benjin’s actual duties running errands and aiding him with his work, the past two weeks had left little time for rest or relaxation.

He couldn’t help but feel out of place. The occasional frowns and pointed looks he received made it clear that a lowborn like him didn’t belong in the palace. Even some of the guards and servants treated him as an oddity risen above his station.

Still, he knew he couldn’t let their prejudice deter him. No matter what anyone else thought, he wouldn’t have traded his apprenticeship for anything. His wages alone were enough incentive to do whatever it took to keep his position in the palace. The first bag of coins he’d sent home to his mother had been more than he could’ve made in a year working in Revesole.

Money aside, his mind also thrilled at every scrap of new knowledge he acquired. It turned out it was far easier to learn magic when you had an actual teacher to supplement stolen peeks at books and poor attempts to replicate other mages’ spells.

So much of mastering runeflame came down to precision—to memorizing the proper sigils and practicing the required hand gestures until you could conjure the desired effect via instinct alone. Perhaps someday, Benjin would be capable of more than mere parlor tricks…or brew a potion that didn’t explode in his face.

Benjin watched Dexil activate a small charm to animate a broom so that it began sweeping the glass shards into a neat pile. The Grand Magus then moved to the table and sprinkled dark brown powder over its surface. He focused his runeflame into the dust until it began to glow, the scarred wood gradually regaining its former luster.

“I’m sorry, sir,” Benjin said, wishing he could help. “I’ll do better next time—I swear.”

“Of course you will, lad.” Dexil spared him a brief smile before returning his attention to the table. “These things take practice and extensive study. You’re already far more proficientat alchemy than you were when you first arrived. Still, there’s always room for improvement.”

A bemused snort came from over by the door. “Clearly.”

Benjin’s gaze shot over to the doorway to see Prince Haldric standing there. His back was ramrod straight, his placid expression somehow still managing to drip cool condescension. Their eyes briefly met, the prince’s gaze seeming to measure him and find him unworthy.

Scowling, Benjin looked away. He hadn’t spoken to the prince since that run-in by the king’s bedside, but Benjin had glimpsed him prowling the halls often these past two weeks, radiating haughty disdain. How he could be the son of someone as gracious and kind as King Roland, Benjin would never understand.

“Ah, Prince Haldric,” Dexil said from over by the table. “My apologies—our lesson today slipped my mind. Benjin and I had a bit of a mishap.”

“So I see.”

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