Page 41 of The Prince's Curse

“The king had other important business to attend to.” Haldric forced down his nerves and took a sip of water. “He’ll be back before we resume.”

The duke’s grin widened. “No doubt. Perhaps you and I might have a word in the meantime, then? I admit, I’m eager for the chance to chat with our heir and future king.”

Haldric’s stomach roiled at the thought of spending any one-on-one time with the duke. Seeing no diplomatic way to decline, however, he gave a begrudging nod.

“Of course, Duke Westley. I’d be happy to address whatever doubts or questions you have.”

The duke chuckled and sipped his own goblet of dark red wine. “Oh, nothing like that, Your Highness. I merely wish to discuss the future…and the opportunities it presents.”

Haldric arched an eyebrow. “Such as?”

Westley didn’t answer right away. Instead, he turned to survey the room. His one-eyed gaze lingered on Haldric’s aunt, his lips pressing together.

“King Roland means well. None would contest that he has Ilthabard’s best interests at heart. Yet, he also remains stuck in the past. The days of a unified kingdom are long behind us. From Weatheford to Zaros and even here in Hasenbill, each province has its own concerns. It only makes sense that they should have the freedom to decide how best to handle them. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Haldric could tell that he treaded on dangerous ground, though he had only the vaguest sense of the hazards that lay underfoot. “What exactly are you proposing, Duke Westley?”

“Why, nothing, Your Highness. I was simply commenting on the current state of affairs.” He swirled the wine in his goblet. The dark liquid splashed against the rim, disconcertingly reminiscent of blood. “With central rule the weakest it’s ever been, your position as king will be precarious. You’ll have to rely more than ever on the support of your governors to rule. Why, without it…” Westley shrugged, taking a long sip of his wine. “Well, you may find it impossible to hold this fragile kingdom together. Better to control one province than nothing at all, eh?”

With a final smile dyed crimson from his wine, Duke Westley strolled away. Haldric stared after him. The duke’s words had strayed perilously close to treason, but there wasn’t much Haldric could do about it—not without risking civil war.

Movement beside him drew his attention, and he glanced over to find his aunt assuming the duke’s forfeited place. Duchess Janelle wore her usual armor and battle axes. Like Duchess Yasmine, she looked more like a general than a noble.

She narrowed her eyes at the departing duke. “I came as soon as I saw he had you cornered. What did that snake want to talk about?”

Janelle was one of the few people in the room Haldric trusted, so he decided not to hold back. “Independence.”

His aunt nodded, appearing unsurprised. “I love my brother, you know I do. And I will always support him, same as I will you. But he has a soft heart—too soft, perhaps, to have been the strong ruler Ilthabard needed. This latest unrest is but a symptom of a broader problem. It’s only a matter of time before a revolt by the people, the nobility, or both brings everything crashing down.”

A chill gripped Haldric at the grim pronouncement. “Why are you telling me this and not my father? And why now?”

His aunt pressed her lips together. “Ihavetold Roland, countless times. But he refuses to listen. Even now, he’s worried about how the other governors would react to any attempts to consolidate his rule.”

Haldric glanced over to find Duke Westley in deep conversation with Duchess Iliana and Duke Haggerty. “Isn’t he right to worry? By the Goddess, they’re already close to open defiance. If my father tried to bludgeon them into submission, it could tear Ilthabard apart.”

“Look around.” Janelle swept her gauntleted arms out to indicate the chamber. “You heard them during the Summit, Haldric. Ilthabard isalreadyfalling apart. No amount of honeyed words or bartered deals will salvage it. Duke Westley and his ilk would happily see us dissolve into disjointed city-states like Razaketh. Unlike them, however, we wouldn’t have the protection of a jungle and a slave army to deter would-be invaders. Whether by conquest or integration, Ilthabard would be swallowed up by one of its neighbors within a generation, our people sundered and our once-great kingdom consigned to oblivion.”

Her expression hardened into fierce lines. She leaned closer, lowering her voice to a near whisper. “For all his bluster,Duke Haggerty was right about one thing earlier—sometimes, the only way to unify people is through force. I fear things will happen swiftly once your father passes, everyone scrambling to maneuver into position and consolidate power. It would be the perfect opportunity for you to do the same. To demand greater obedience from the governors…and to threaten them with the consequences should they refuse.”

Haldric swallowed the lead lump in his throat. “W-what consequences?”

Rather than responding, Janelle held his gaze for a long, fraught moment. Then she turned away, patting him on the back. “Take care, nephew, and watch your back, even here in the palace. Whatever you decide, know that you have my support—and my province’s armies—to do with as you see fit.”

He watched her go, her words lending him some small measure of comfort even as they weighed on him almost as heavily as Duke Westley’s threats. Goddess’ mercy, he wasn’t cut out for these political games. The governors called for independence while his father urged diplomatic marriage and his aunt voiced her not-so-subtle support for civil war. Not to mention the growing dissent among the commoners.

So many unhappy people. So many potential directions for the kingdom. So many threats, both from without and within.

And here, at the center of it all, stood unworthy him.

The full burden of his responsibilities bore down on him, threatening to crush him.

“Well then, don’t let them.”

Benjin’s words echoed in his mind, relieving some of the crushing weight. That’s what Benjin had told him when Haldric expressed his worries over the governors. As though it were that simple—as if Haldric possessed that sort of power.

Haldric took a deep breath, restoring his mask of calm. Benjin was right. Haldric couldn’t let them intimidate him into givingup. Once he had his pulse back under control, he strode toward the negotiating table and the chatting governors.

Time to prove that the apprentice’s faith in him hadn’t been misplaced.

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