Page 73 of The Prince's Curse

Sighing, Dexil strode forward. Benjin tensed, expecting the worst, but all the Grand Magus did was pull out a rag and a glass jar. Benjin recognized it as the same healing poultice Dexil had used on him before the ritual. With practiced ease, Dexil began applying it to the chafed skin around his shackles. Benjin resented how quickly the salve soothed his aches. While he loathed receiving any help from the man who’d so thoroughly betrayed his trust, he was too weak to turn it away.

“You still think so little of me,” Dexil said as he worked. “Do you have any idea how difficult it was to smuggle the two of you out of Revesole after your little stunt? Half the palace heard the explosion from the botched ritual. With alarms raised and so much scrutiny on me, I had no choice but to invent that story about you kidnapping the prince to cover my tracks. Even still, I didn’t dare risk transporting you far. I set you up at that quaint cottage outside Gerald’s Spring, and the memory charm did the rest, easing you into your new life as though you’d always been there.”

Benjin’s brows shot up. “And you left us alone there, just like that?”

The Grand Magus nodded. “I kept an eye on you as best I could while steering the search away, delaying the royal guards with false reports and ‘failed’ Divinations. But Marshal Fendrel and Duchess Janelle are Void-cursed stubborn. It was only a matter of time before they found you.”

Finishing with the poultice, Dexil returned to the center of the cell. A faint tremor racked his arms, and Benjin wondered if the Grand Magus hated the shivering sensation of the antimagic wards here as much as he did.

No matter how Benjin considered Dexil’s story, he couldn’t make it make sense. “Why in the name of the Goddess would you go through all that trouble? You could’ve slit our throats when we were unconscious, or arranged an accident at any point since we were found. No one would have questioned it if something went wrong with the ritual. Why let us return here and regain our memories?”

Surprise fluttered through Benjin when Dexil offered him a sad smile. “You know, you remind me a lot of myself at your age, Benjin. Stubborn. Inquisitive. Always questioning authority. Call me overly sentimental if you like, but to answer your previous question, I came here to check on you.” He ignoredBenjin’s incredulous snort. “I still hold out hope that you’ll come to see things my way in time. And as I told you before, I’ve known Haldric since he was a boy, practically helped raise him. I tried my best to keep him out of this. To find another way. No matter what else you may think of me, please believe that I never wanted to hurt you—either of you.”

Something in the Grand Magus’ tone caught Benjin’s attention, sending a ripple of unease ghosting over his skin. He riveted his gaze on the mage, staring into him. “What do you mean? What aren’t you telling me?”

Dexil glanced away, something almost like guilt flashing in his violet eyes. “Had you not interfered, I could have completed the ritual as I intended and sent Haldric somewhere he’d never be found. Even now, he’d be living peacefully across the mountains in Korvanthos. If it was what you both wanted, I might even have let you accompany him. Instead, I had to improvise, scrambling these past few months to prepare. I’d hoped to be ready before the guards found you, but I’m afraid the prince’s untimely return requires certain…compromises.”

Benjin’s unease deepened to terror. He strained against his chains, but that did little except hurt his stretched shoulders. “What sort of compromises? What have you done to Haldric?”

The Grand Magus’ jeweled fingers glinted in the flickering torchlight as he twisted them in the folds of his robes. “Everything I’ve done has been for the good of Ilthabard. You must see that, Benjin. I…I never wanted things to turn out like this. But the peoplemustcome first.”

Uncertainty flickered across Dexil’s face. Benjin couldn’t tell if the Grand Magus was trying to convince him…or himself. Then, Dexil’s expression firmed. “You’ll be safe here. I promise. I’ll return to check on you when it’s all over.” The Grand Magus turned and strode toward the door to the cell.

“No!”Benjin bucked and heaved at his chains like a flailing fish, desperate for release. But the shackles held, his runeflame suppressed even had he been able to manage the appropriate gestures with his bound limbs. “Don’t you dare hurt Haldric!”

The Grand Magus paused just before the door, his back trembling. Without turning, he whispered, “The Goddess will forgive me for what I do. I pray that, one day, you will do the same.”

Then, he was gone, leaving Benjin struggling alone in the dark.

twenty-eight

Haldric

Haldric took a deepbreath and nodded at his aunt. The longer they waited, the more time it gave their enemies to prepare.

With a roar, Duchess Janelle barreled through the door, banging it heavily back. From the startled cry behind it, at least one ambusher had been lurking there and now had a bloody nose to show for it.

Moving quickly after her, Haldric took in the room. The torches had been dimmed to make it easier to hide. Still, he spied movement off to either side in the shadows—archers, most likely. Two more figures stood at the far end of the room blocking the door to the corridor.

Before he could take in more details, a figure appeared directly in front of his aunt, lunging forward with a sword. Fire burst in the air as she deflected the blow with one enchanted ax and swung the other down. The attacker screamed, clutching at his bloodied arm as his sword clattered from his useless grip.

Haldric expected the attacker to move or get out of the way. Instead, he stood defiantly in their way. With a start, Haldric realized he recognized him. It was the boy from Revesole—the one who’d glared hatefully after their carriage as they’d departed.

“For Ilthabard!” the kid shouted, managing to draw a dagger with his off hand. “For freedom!”

As the boy threw himself forward with an unpracticed strike, Haldric saw his aunt tense, raising her axes.

“No!” he shouted. “He’s just a kid! Don’t—”

But it was too late. The boy collapsed in a spray of flame and sizzling crimson blood.

Haldric bowed his head. He knew he shouldn’t mourn him—the boy had ambushed them, tried to kill them. But having glimpsed the desperation that fueled him, Haldric mourned him all the same.

Were these rebels then? Judging by the boy’s presence, it seemed likely. But then…how had they gained access to the palace?

The twang of crossbows resounded, and Haldric snapped back to his senses when a flash of pain seared his shoulder. He stumbled but kept his balance, glancing at the bolt protruding from his flesh. As he’d predicted, his ward had slowed its momentum, lessening the impact. But it still hurt like the Void.

“Forward!” his aunt cried, dashing toward the door.

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