Page 66 of The Prince's Curse

Haldric’s jaw tightened to the point of aching. He said nothing, couldn’t choke the words out even if he tried. Instead, he simply clung to his father’s limp, all-too-frail hand until the room filled with the king’s gentle snores. With his eyes closed like that, his face slack, his father looked almost at peace.

Or dead.

Setting his father’s hand gently atop the sheets, Haldric fled the chamber. The room outside had quieted since his and Benjin’s arrival. Disappointment filled him when he saw no signof Benjin or the Grand Magus. The guards and servants had cleared out as well, leaving his aunt sitting alone.

She rose when she spotted him. “How is he?”

“Dying.”

He regretted his harsh response almost instantly, but his aunt merely nodded, her expression grim. “Aye, that he is. It won’t be long now.”

Haldric’s chest felt too heavy, each breath an extraordinary effort. Still, he clung to his calm façade. “I’m exhausted after my travels. If you’ll excuse me.”

Bowing to his aunt, he started for the door to the hall.

“Word of the king’s deteriorating condition is already spreading,” she called after him. Though her voice was soft, a note of steel laced her words. Haldric paused by the door, listening to her with his back turned. “If you wish to solidify your support,nowis the time. Have you given any more thought to my proposal?”

His calm mask fractured. “For civil war, you mean?” he asked wearily.

His aunt stepped closer, lowering her voice. “No. For doing what you must in order to prevent it.”

Memories of the brutal attack on the road played before him, laced with his suspicions of Duke Westley. Perhaps Janelle was right—perhaps heshouldforce the governors into line before he or anyone else he cared about died. Yet wouldn’t that prove him exactly the tyrant the other governors feared?

“I need more time to consider.”

His aunt snorted a humorless laugh as she started toward the door. “Very well. But don’t wait too long, Haldric. A ruler cannot afford uncertainty. These are troubled times, and you must be strong if you are to rise to them. Melisie wouldn’t have hesitated. Neither can you.”

Though she said the words with no hint of malice, they crashed into him like a slap to the face, exposing one of his greatest fears: that others would judge him against the example set by his late sister…and constantly find him wanting.

“Excuse me,” he choked out, fleeing into the hall before she could say any more. His head spun as he retreated to his quarters, barely even noticing the flow of people around him.

All he wanted in that moment was to see Benjin—to wrap the apprentice in his arms and seek comfort in his lips. Yet how could he now that grim reality was setting in again? When he himself didn’t even know how to move forward?

Retreating into the familiar safety of his chambers, he was surprised to find a package waiting for him on the table. Frowning, he approached, freezing when he read the name of the sender.Duke Westley.

For it to have arrived before him, the duke must’ve either sent it days ago or else used a mage to hasten its arrival. Haldric’s hand trembled as he reached for it. If Duke Westley really was behind the attack, this could be a trap. Then again, if that was the case, he probably wouldn’t have signed it and incriminated himself.

Suddenly furious at all these political games and deceptions, Haldric tore into the package, ripping it open to reveal a letter along with a small box. He opened the box first, quickly checking it for any obvious magic.

Inside was a beautifully rendered map of Ilthabard. It was higher quality than any Haldric had ever seen and must have been created via magic given the impossible level of detail. Every road and tree seemed perfectly rendered. Each province’s name stood out in bold, care taken to delineate their borders.

Haldric stared at the stark black lines for a moment, so much deeper and thicker than the fine, thin lines used for everythingelse. Then, he set the map aside and opened the letter. It was short and to the point, Duke Westley’s seal affixed to the end.

“I hope the rest of your journey was a safe one. Kindly give that mage of yours my regards. I had no idea he was traveling with you, or else I would have relished the opportunity to meet him at dinner. And all the best to the king. The other governors and I will be praying to the Goddess that he suffers as little as possible in his final days.”

Haldric’s grip on the scroll tightened as he read. When he finished, he hurled the missive across the room with a furious roar. Though there was nothing outright incriminating in its contents, Haldric could read between the lines.

He killed Melisie.Haldric had been suspicious before. Now, he felt all but certain. It made too much sense not to be true. Perhaps the duke had dared to present the same offer to Melisie as he had Haldric after all. And when she’d refused, he’d removed her from the equation, suspecting Haldric would be more pliable. Easier to manipulate. Weaker.

Aren’t I? The governors hardly need kill me to get what they want. They simply need to sit back and watch Ilthabard crumble about my inept hands.

A tremor racked Haldric’s body. He couldn’t decide if he wanted to cry or scream, to rage or sob. This was too much—everything was too much. The people deserved someone better than him.

I can’t do this.

Goddess’ mercy, how he wished Benjin were there. He was desperate for Benjin’s touch, his reassuring look. He had a way of making Haldric feel as if everything would work out by his very presence.

Haldric felt unmoored. All he wanted was to crawl into Benjin’s arms and forget about everything else for as long as he could. His dying father, Lady Katalin, his aunt, the other governors…he wanted nothing more to do with any of it!

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