Page 58 of The Prince's Curse

Amused laughter echoed nearby. Benjin squinted up through his pain to see an older woman approaching. Her plain dress was at odds with the silken shawl she wore to conceal her face.

“For a moment there, I thought the king had sent along a real mage to protect his precious boy. But you seem barely capable of putting up a fight.”

“What do you want?” Benjin hissed through clenched teeth.

As he spoke, he gathered runeflame about his hand where it lay concealed beneath his body, praying the mage didn’t notice. Thankfully, she seemed too preoccupied with the sound of her own voice.

She stopped a dozen paces away. Runeflame blanketed her in an azure glow laced with flecks of silver. “We’re here for the prince. If he’s not dead yet, he will be soon. Without his magic, he’s nothing but a pathetic pup playing at being a soldier.”

No magic?That explained how Haldric had been so easily overpowered. Had this mage done something to affect Haldric’s runeflame?

“Why do you care…about Haldric?” Benjin wheezed. It wasn’t difficult to act pained and harmless—not with the agony mounting in his charbroiled chest.

The woman tutted. “Must you ask so many questions? It’s not as if you’ll have time to consider my answers.” A sphere of roiling flame coalesced atop her palm. “We may have come for the prince, but his pet mage will make a nice bonus.”

Benjin yanked his hand up and unleashed his gathered runeflame right as she launched her fireball. Their conflicting magic collided in midair, flames hissing and roiling about Benjin as his own spell barely kept it at bay.

Focusing on the clashing spells, Benjin channeled more runeflame in a desperate attempt to force the other mage’s runeflame back. As Haldric had so often told him, what he lacked in technique he made up for in raw power.

The enemy mage’s eyes widened as her spell began to reverse, the flames roiling toward her. “Impossible!” Her outstretched hand trembled as she fought against Benjin’s will. “That wasn’t even a proper counterspell!”

“Good enough…to counter you,” Benjin retorted through his bared teeth.

He could sense the enemy mage’s concentration close to snapping. All he had to do was keep focusing, keep powering his spell and sooner or later, she—

The last of his runeflame ran out, and with it, his control. Destabilized, the clashing magic burst apart in a ring of sparking smoke. Benjin slumped to the dirt, utterly spent.

Relief tinged the enemy mage’s nervous laughter. “Looks like someone ran out of juice. If you were a proper mage, you’d know how to conserve your magic.” Her eyes flashed with triumph as she conjured more runeflame as if to prove her point. “A pity you’ll never get the chance to learn.”

She raised her hand, and a steel blade burst from her chest in a spray of blood. Her runeflame winked out as she scrabbled weakly at the sword tip protruding from her chest. Then, her eyes rolled over, and she collapsed.

Panting and covered in blood, his tunic torn in a half-dozen places to expose the thick muscles beneath, Haldric stood over the fallen mage. Behind him was an equally battered Fendrel, along with four royal guards.

Haldric’s gaze traveled from the mage to Benjin. Their eyes locked as Haldric’s face split in a fierce grin. “Looks like you’ll get that chance to learn after all.”

twenty-two

Haldric

Haldric didn’t relish killing.Despite his frequent battle practices with Fendrel, this was the first time he’d been forced to fight outside a training ground. He knew the lives he’d taken today would haunt his dreams for some time to come.

Yet, as he helped Benjin to his feet, propping the wounded apprentice against his side, he consoled himself with the grim knowledge that it had been necessary. Had he not fought, he and Benjin would both be dead. As it was, it had been a near thing.

After Benjin’s summoned quake, Haldric had yearned to go to him, but that soulflame warrior and his goons had recovered too quickly, cutting him off and forcing him to flee around the carriage. Thankfully, he’d managed to make it to Fendrel and the remaining guards in time to rally them.

The soulflame warrior hadn’t stood a chance. He’d taken another two guards with him, but in the end, Fendrel had driven the killing blow home himself, his blade moving almost too swiftly for Haldric to track.

Relishing Benjin’s comforting weight against his side, Haldric sent a silent prayer to the Goddess. If he’d been even a second or two slower reaching Benjin…

The thought sent a shudder down his back.

Leaving Benjin in the carriage to rest and Marshal Fendrel to tend to the wounded, Haldric returned to the enemy mage’s corpse and searched her body. Sure enough, he found what he’d expected: a small charm tinged crimson and imbued with runeflame.

He tossed it in the dirt and stomped on it with his boot, satisfied when he heard it crack apart. He tried to channel runeflame, relieved when it came to him easily.

The mage must’ve used some manner of blood sorcery to block his access to magic. He shivered at the thought of how they might’ve obtained the drop of his blood needed to complete the hex. He bled often enough during his training bouts with Fendrel. That meant someone with access to the palace.

Bandits, rebels…or something altogether different?

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