Page 39 of The Prince's Curse

The other governors were already there. King Roland had insisted on arriving last to remind them who was in charge. From the annoyed looks Haldric caught on several of their faces, they recognized the posturing…and didn’t approve.

The king settled into the high-backed seat reserved for him at the table’s end. Haldric took the seat by his right hand while Dexil sat across from Haldric on the king’s left.

His aunt, Duchess Janelle, gave him a grim-faced nod from her own position several seats down. Not content to live in her brother’s shadow, she’d married the old duke of Catia, a small southern province bordering the Void Peaks. Since her husband’s death, she’d worked hard to earn her position as governor.

Haldric hadn’t spent much time with her since she’d left the capital. It was only after Melisie’s death that she’d begun making it a point to visit more and take him under her wing. Though he found her a touch intimidating, it eased some of his tension to know he had at least one ally here today.

Still, taking in the well-dressed man poised at the opposite end of the table, Haldric’s anxiety simmered. Duke WestleyCullford wore tightly fitted colored silks more in keeping with a Sanjarkan merchant than an Ilthabardian lord. Tall and thin, his bald head and stern face lent him a distinguished air only partially marred by the crimson eye patch he wore over his left eye.

Governor of the eastern province of Zaros along the Tholan River, he oversaw the majority of Ilthabard’s trade with Khordan and Sanjarka, making him richer than even the king. Next to Haldric’s father, he was the most powerful governor in attendance…and the most dangerous.

Duke Westley’s single hazel eye fixed on Haldric with an intensity that unsettled him, though he tried not to show it. He gave the governor a polite nod before pointedly turning away.

As if of their own accord, his eyes sought out Dexil across the table from him. The Grand Magus gave him an encouraging wink that Haldric answered with a weak smile.

But when he looked past the Grand Magus expecting Benjin, he saw no sign of the apprentice. Disappointment curled through him. Had Benjin decided not to come after all? Had yesterday’s argument scared him off?

It doesn’t matter,he told himself, squaring his shoulders to ensure he looked suitably dignified.It’s not as if I needed him here anyway.

An announcement from an aide caused the guests to quiet. Runeflame flickered over the sigils Dexil had etched into the tabletop. They began to glow, and a dome of opaque force enveloped them. Though it rendered it impossible to see or hear their discussions from outside the barrier, it did nothing to bar the dignitaries from coming and going as they saw fit.

“Honored guests,” King Roland began once everyone had settled. “I thank you all for gathering here today for the Provincial Council’s annual Summit. There is much I would discuss with you concerning the future of our kingdom.”

“So long as there are plenty of refreshments,” Duchess Iliana Marudin said with a tinkling laugh. “Though I doubt they’ll compare to what I’m used to. No offense, of course—it’s hard to compete with the freshest ingredients in Allaria.”

Dressed in a flowing green grown that could barely contain her voluptuous curves, Iliana led the sprawling central province of Leonia that contained most of Ilthabard’s farmlands.

Next to her at the table, Duke Haggerty Simik of Nillis snorted. A burly man with a thick gray beard that was oddly incongruous with his finely tailored suit, he said, “Whatever will get us out of here the quickest. I’m sure I speak for all of us when I say I have more important matters to attend to in my own lands than wasting time talking ourselves in circles.”

Though his father’s wan face remained placid, Haldric sensed the king’s displeasure in a slight tightening around his eyes. “Of course, Duke Haggerty. I promise that we will be as succinct as possible.” Haldric’s pulse thrummed when his father turned to him. “Prince Haldric will kick us off.”

Struggling not to shrink beneath the weight of all those haughty gazes suddenly turned upon him, Haldric flipped through the papers before him to give his fingers something to do, even though he’d long since memorized the documents’ contents.

“Right,” he said, clearing his throat. “Shall we begin by renewing last year’s pledges for taxes and soldiers?”

Displeased murmurs echoed around the table.

Duchess Yasmine Fembrook, a hard-faced and rail-thin woman dressed in a crisp military uniform, scowled. “Only if you intend to invest those resources into shoring up our western border. Nalax’s raids along the Crimson River grow more brazen by the month. Weatheford’s defenses cannot hold—not if Nalax decides to attack in force.”

Before Haldric could reply, Duke Westley leaned forward with a small smile, steepling his bejeweled fingers atop the table. “The dear duchess raises an excellent point, Your Highness. I know you’re terribly new to all this, but if I may make a humble suggestion, I believe it is past time we renegotiate our existing pledges in light of recent developments.”

The duke gestured to his side. An aide seated there slid a sheaf of parchment before him. “I’ve taken the liberty of drawing up new terms I believe more equitable given the declining state of the Crown. I’d be happy to present them, if you like.” He glanced at the king, his brow wrinkling in apparent concern. “And not to worry, Your Majesty—I shall be brief. After all, we all know how badly your health ails you these days.”

Duchess Janelle fixed Westley with a furious glare. “Watch your tongue, Cullford. You speak to your king.”

The duke barely inclined his head. “But of course. My apologies, sire, if I have given any offense. I’m merely concerned for your wellbeing. It pains me to see you overcome with such weakness that you must rely on less experienced youth to act in your stead.”

Haldric tensed, barely able to believe the duke’s audacity. He’d expected the governors to be unruly, but this was close to open defiance of the Crown’s authority. Not to mention how the duke’s dismissal gnawed at his insecurities.

King Roland’s smile showed entirely too many teeth. “Thank you, Duke Westley. Your generosity, as always, does you credit. Let us see if your proposal is equally generous.”

Haldric did his best to contribute to the ensuing discussion, drawing upon his political lessons to help him counter the governors’ concerns and keep the conversation on track. Yet, it was hard not to bristle at the barest modicum of respect the other governors showed him and his father, particularly DukeWestley. The insufferable man’s every word seemed to contain a veiled insult.

Talk veered from topic to topic, jumping from negotiations over how much each province should be taxed and how many of their citizens they should contribute to Ilthabard’s national army, to how to address growing rumors of Nalax’s expansionist ambitions, to seeking support for restoring Ilthabard’s crumbling roads and infrastructure.

This last was a particularly sore spot for Haldric given his sister Melisie’s fate. Deteriorating roads were one of the main contributors to the rising number of bandits throughout the countryside…though general unrest also didn’t help.

“If your citizens grow restless, it is because they require a stricter hand,” Duke Haggerty said with a dismissive wave of his burly arm. “In Nillis, the people are used to harsh, rugged living. Not much hope for anything else when you spend your days mining in the Korvanthan Mountains. Execute a few of the dissenters, and the rest will soon disperse.”

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