Page 40 of The Prince's Curse

Before he could think better of it, Haldric said, “We already don’t have enough soldiers to defend our roads and secure our western border. Now, you want us to declare war on our own people? It is hunger that drives them, nothing more.”

Duke Haggerty fixed him with a condescending sneer. “Who cares what drives them? Motives matter not in the pursuit of order. Perhaps you’ve lived too sheltered a life here in the palace to fully grasp the harsh realities of the world, Your Highness, but sometimes violence is the only possible response.”

“And sometimes it is the height of idiocy! I—” Haldric cut off when his father rested a faintly trembling hand on his arm.

“Apologies for my son’s outburst,” the king said. “Though I will remindeveryonehere to keep this discussion civil.” His gaze lingered on Westley a moment before he glanced at the papersbefore him. “Now then, let us return to Duchess Iliana’s point about increasing the export of food from Leonia.”

Duchess Iliana smiled. “Thank you, Your Majesty. We have plenty in our stores and are happy to share with the other provinces…for a commensurate fee, of course.”

And so, the negotiations continued.

By the time they broke for lunch, Haldric’s jaw ached from how hard he’d been clenching it. Goddess’ mercy, he didn’t understand how his father could put up with this. Each governor seemed more selfish than the last, concerned only with their own province’s wealth and prestige regardless of the cost to the kingdom as a whole. No wonder Ilthabard was dying ifthesewere the people responsible for its upkeep.

Still, at least he’d managed to mostly hold his own. His father had only needed to step in a handful of times to offer advice or defuse an argument before it could fester. Haldric had thought of escaping outside to clear his head, but his father caught him by the door.

“That went better than expected,” the king said in a low voice.

Haldric’s mask slipped as he let out an incredulous huff. “How can you say that? They all seem so eager to tear the kingdom apart for their own greed.”

His father took his arm, leaning on it for balance. “And yet, we managed to negotiate a tax only slightly lower than last year’s, albeit with a handful of caveats attached over how the money is spent. And those fresh pledges of food from Leonia should help alleviate some of the suffering in the streets.”

Haldric glared past his father at where the governors had moved to partake in the lavish refreshments laid out along the far wall. “It’s not enough.”

His father’s heavy sigh rattled his chest. When he spoke, he sounded exhausted. “It never is. Yet, we do the best we can.”

The king clapped him on the back and went to step past him, only to stumble. Reacting quickly, Haldric managed to catch him, allowing the king to slump against his side.

With a furtive look about, Haldric did his best to prop his father up, hoping no one had noticed. It would only add fuel to their disparaging remarks.

It was only when he turned his gaze upon his father that he realized how pale his father appeared. The king’s features were drawn, the faint tremble in his hands even worse than usual.

Footsteps echoed behind them. Haldric spun, relieved to find the Grand Magus approaching with a look of concern. “Are you well, Your Majesty?”

“I’m fine.” Roland struggled to extricate himself from Haldric’s grip and almost instantly stumbled again. “Goddess’ mercy,” he cursed with a weary sigh.

“I’m afraid you’ve pushed yourself too hard, sire.” Dexil held out an arm. “Come, let me escort you to your chambers.”

The king set his jaw. “Not yet. We’re only halfway through the negotiations. If we stop now, what small victories I’ve secured will crumble apart. Isn’t there something you can give me to help—a potion or the like to lend me strength?”

“I’ve already done all I dare, Your Majesty. Surely, Haldric and Janelle can handle things in your stead?”

Panic jolted Haldric’s veins at the thought of leading the negotiations without his father’s guidance. Never before had he felt less prepared to be king.

“No,” his father said.

“But—”

“Goddess’ mercy, Dexil, I’m not dead yet!” King Roland’s gaze flashed. For a moment, he seemed to regain some of his lost strength, every bit the fierce warrior he’d been in his youth. Then, he sagged, the sudden strength flowing out of him. “I may not live to see another year.” Haldric’s heart ached at the softsorrow in his father’s voice. “At least allow me the satisfaction of seeing this final Summit through.”

Dexil’s expression wavered. At last, he sighed and bowed his head. “Very well, Your Majesty. If you come with me to your bedchamber, I’ll see what I can do.”

The king nodded before turning to Haldric. “Take care, Son. Watch over these vipers for me. I promise, I’ll return soon.”

Gathering his resolve, Haldric gave a firm nod. As he watched his father depart with the Grand Magus, however, his determination wavered. He felt like a minnow swimming with krakens. Still, he’d do all he could to not disappoint his father.

He exhaled a calming breath and made his way toward the refreshments where the other governors still gathered. Grabbing a glass of water and a platter of dried meats, berries, and cheeses, he turned to discover Duke Westley blocking his way.

The duke inclined his head, his smile sharp as a blade. “Prince Haldric. I couldn’t help but notice your father’s hasty departure. I hope naught is amiss?”

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