Page 4 of The Prince's Curse

The head guard shrugged, his expression grim. “Suit yourself.”

A gesture from him sent half the soldiers fanning out around the edges of the room to encircle Benjin. The rest remained with their leader to block the door.

Benjin fought down a savage grin. Good—the fewer soldiers between him and Haldric, the better.

He waited until the head guard opened his mouth to speak, then dashed forward, holding his hands out to either side while drawing upon his reserve of runeflame. Blue and silver energy coursed over his fingers as more waves of force erupted from him. This time, however, he didn’t direct them at the warded soldiers but at the items scattered about the room.

The scarred table and stools rocketed forward, crashing into the nearest pair of soldiers. They tumbled to the ground with surprised shouts. The sagging armchair Haldric used for reading made quick work of the guards on the other side. Plates and silverware from breakfast joined cups, bowls, books, and whatever other loose items Benjin’s runeflame could find, his Evocation transforming them into zipping missiles.

Within seconds, his and Haldric’s cozy living space had devolved into a whirlwind of chaotic destruction. The guards’ careful lines disintegrated beneath the telekinetic assault. Benjin’s heart twinged at the mayhem enveloping their home.I swear to the Goddess, I’ll make whoever’s responsible for this pay.

Taking advantage of the bedlam, he wove past guards and animated objects toward the door, his sole thought reaching Haldric. He was a mere handful of paces away when a figure loomed before him—the head guard.

“Clever,” the man said.

He kept his shield carefully positioned between them. Benjin tensed when a sheen of pale white soulflame rose to coat his sword. So, he was a soulflame warrior—a type of caster who learned to channel their power to enhance their martial prowess. That made him a more dangerous foe than Benjin had expected. Better to avoid a fight if possible.

“But harnessing that much raw magic can’t have been easy on you,” the leader continued. His assessing gaze weighed Benjin, studying him from head to toe. “I’d wager you’re feeling pretty drained right about now.”

Benjin raised hands crackling with runeflame, pleased to see the head guard tense. “You’re forgetting one crucial detail.”

“Oh?” The guard shuffled a cautious step forward. His eyes flicked behind Benjin—no doubt to where more soldiers were recovering, preparing to close in on him. “And what’s that?”

“How Void-cursedangryI am.”

With a terrible splintering noise, the front door ripped from its hinges. The head guard barely had time to widen his eyes before the sundered wood slammed into his back, sending him sprawling to the floor. Benjin threw himself forward, rolling under the door as it sailed past him and crashed into the guards behind.

Ignoring their muffled shouts, he propelled himself to his feet and dashed past the dazed leader out into the garden. The front gate lay in splintered ruin, and boots had trampled Haldric’s flowers and vegetables.

The sight sent an irrational spike of outrage through Benjin. He shoved it down, desperately scanning the surrounding area for any sign of Haldric. His stomach fell when he came up empty. No Haldric—just several dozen more royal guards, some mounted and some on foot. They must’ve already taken him away.

A nearby soldier finally noticed Benjin standing there and shouted, pointing. Benjin cursed under his breath and dashed around the edge of the cottage, making for a nearby copse of trees. The woods there weren’t large, but the cover should make it harder to pursue him on horseback. Beyond that, he had little choice but to trust his magic and his greater knowledge of the area to help him evade his pursuers.

As he darted beneath the shadowed boughs, his thoughts returned to Haldric. A grim determination settled over him. He still had no idea what in the Goddess’ name was going on, but he did know one thing: Haldric was in trouble.

And Benjin would dowhateverit took to rescue him.

two

Haldric

Haldric stumbled in thechurned-up dirt as his captors led him from the carriage. Numbness pervaded his mind and body, making it feel as if he was viewing everything through the distorted surface of a pond.

I’m in shock, he thought dazedly as more soldiers enveloped him, pouring out of his carriage and dismounting from his escort. And no wonder. One moment, he’d been enjoying breakfast with Benjin, and the next…

He squeezed his eyes shut against the image of Benjin’s terrified face, Benjin’s panicked shouts echoing in his ears.

Haldric had considered fighting. He’d always been the superior mage to Benjin. But what would resistance have done except get him or Benjin killed? Better to go along with this insanity until they could sort it out.

Goddess’ mercy, please let Benjin be okay.

His boot caught in a cleft in the road, and he lost his footing again, almost planting on his face. A deft hand caught his elbow,jerking him upright. Perhaps closing his eyes while walking hadn’t been the smartest decision.

He blinked and glanced over to find a stern-faced man standing at his side. The man’s crisp uniform marked him as a marshal in the royal guard. A faint hint of recognition tickled the back of Haldric’s mind, though he was fairly certain the marshal hadn’t been part of his original escort.

The marshal gave him a precise salute. “It’s good to see you again, Your Highness.” His gaze briefly lingered on Haldric before he turned, his alert eyes roaming the area around them. “Watch your step and keep moving. It’s not safe for you out here.”

Your Highness.

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