Page 60 of The Prince's Curse

He knew they needed to talk—about what had happened at the Galax estate and what would happen next. But that could come later. For now, they both needed sleep more.

Leaning his head back against the wall, Haldric thought of Benjin until unconsciousness claimed him.

Despite the fresh horror of the attack and how close they’d come to perishing, the next couple days of limping back to Revesole almost felt like a return to normal. Benjin rode in the carriage with him again—not that he had much choice with the wagon destroyed—and they resumed their usual training and light banter.

Neither of them brought up what had happened at the Galax estate, though Haldric thought of it often. From the way he’d sometimes catch Benjin’s pale eyes intent on him, he suspected the apprentice did as well. Still, as if by some unspoken armistice, they left it alone for now.

Haldric could feel himself growing closer to Benjin again, slipping back into the easy camaraderie they’d found during the trip to Khordan. And while it scared him when he lay awake at night, thinking of Katalin and the king and his responsibility to the crown, all of that seemed more distant than it once had.

Benjin was here. The two of them had survived. And Haldric simply didn’t have it in him to go back to avoiding Benjin…regardless of how much he knew he should.

On their last night before reaching Revesole, the two of them sat beside a small campfire. Fendrel had already retired to rest, the watch he’d set up near their camp standing vigilant guard. While there’d been no sign of their ambushers since that initial attack, Fendrel refused to take any chances.

“I’ve been thinking about the ambush,” Haldric said. He poked at the fire with a stick, watching the embers it cast up into the air.

“Oh?” Benjin sounded cautious. Like their shared night at the Galax estate, the attack had also largely remained off-limits for discussion.

“At first, I thought it was bandits,” Haldric began. “Then, that soulflame warrior began saying all that stuff about judging me on behalf of the people. Yet, the more I consider it, the less convinced I am that it was rebels either.”

Benjin’s fingers twitched with runeflame, his Evocation absently stirring the loose embers into a fiery whirlwind. “You saw those protesters in Revesole. They certainly seemed mad enough.”

Haldric pictured that boy with the dead eyes who’d watched them pass and shuddered. “Of that, I have no doubt. There are plenty in this kingdom who’d rejoice at my head on a spike. But that attack was too well-planned for your run-of-the-mill rebels. They wielded good steel and armor despite their grubby clothes. Not to mention the soulflame warrior and mage leading them. Even more concerning, they had that charm prepared ahead of time to counter my magic. That kind of blood hex is rare, especially here in Ilthabard, and would have required careful planning to acquire.”

“All good points,” Benjin conceded. He bit his lip. Still looking uncertain, he ventured, “While I’m sure you’d rather not think about it, this attack’s similar to what happened to your sister, isn’t it?”

Despite the proximity of the fire, a chill pricked Haldric’s skin. “It is. Even the location is almost identical, along the road through Zaros.”

He tensed, Duke Westley’s threats from the Summit suddenly echoing in his ears. Was it mere coincidence that both he and his sister had been ambushed while traveling through the duke’s lands? It had to be. Not even Westley would be that brazen.

Would he?

“With my sister gone, I’m my father’s last remaining heir,” Haldric said slowly. “If I died as well, the entire kingdom would collapse into in-fighting and disorder. Which is precisely what Duke Westley wants.”

A flare of magic jerked Haldric’s attention back to the present as Benjin sent the flames soaring higher, his face contorted with anger. The crackle of burning wood and the acrid scent of smoke engulfed them.

“If you think that Void-eater might’ve had anything to do with the attack, then confront him!” Benjin said. “Put him and theother governors on the spot and see if you can force them to slip up.”

Haldric stared into the roaring flames. “I wish I could. But without proof, all that would do is rally additional support behind his cause.”

Benjin scowled, looking ready to take the fight to Westley by himself. “There has to be more we can do!”

“There isn’t. Truly.” Haldric sighed, sorrow gripping him as he thought again of those protesters in Revesole. “Besides, we have enough problems to deal with. Our attackers might not have been real rebels, but their accusations rang true enough.”

“Hey, come on.” Benjin’s hand twitched toward Haldric as though to reach for him, though that might have just been wishful thinking. “You’re doing the best you can. There’s only so much you can do as prince.”

“Perhaps.” He bowed his head. “But our best clearly isn’t good enough. I can scarcely believe how spectacularly we’ve failed the people. Whether it’s my father’s fault or that of the governors,somethingneeds to change.”

Haldric paused, considering the wisdom in what he was about to confess. But, well, Benjin had saved his life at least once. And besides, the apprentice already knew enough secrets to destroy him if that were his intent.

“You already know my father desires an alliance with Khordan.” Haldric’s stomach twisted. “But he’s not the only one with schemes for Ilthabard’s future.”

He explained in more detail what his father had told him about Ilthabard’s situation, as well as Duke Westley’s thinly veiled threats at the Summit. Then, he confessed his aunt’s urging for preemptive civil war.

“I don’t know what to do,” Haldric concluded, his shoulders slumping. “No matter which way I turn, I seem destined to fail—to prove my inadequacy as a ruler. Ilthabard deserves better than me.”

He heard a rustling of cloth, and glanced up, his eyes widening when he saw Benjin sitting down next to him. Their sides brushed, sending heat flaring across Haldric’s skin.

“I’m not sure I’m qualified to offer advice on such matters,” Benjin said with a wry grin. “Most of the intricacies go right over my head.” Haldric’s pulse ratcheted up a notch as Benjin rested his hand on Haldric’s. “But what Icansay is that you need to follow your heart. I know you well enough by now to realize you’re not just some spoiled lordling. You genuinely want to do the right thing…which is more than most of the nobility can say.”

---