Page 8 of The Prince's Curse

Haldric’s breath caught in his throat. The edges of his vision darkened as the room swam before his vision. He forced a shaky nod.

“I thought as much.” Dexil gave him a kind smile. “It’s nothing to be afraid of, my boy. It is a symptom of the curse—a sign that your latent memories are fighting to reassert themselves and recover your lost truth.”

Memories flashed before his eyes from that morning. The warm glint in Benjin’s pale gray eyes when he looked at Haldric. The safe comfort of his arms wrapped around Haldric’s back. The familiar taste of his breath on Haldric’s lips.

Those events werereal—they’d happened. But the love undergirding them, tying them all together, that couldn’t be fake…could it?

Haldric gave a desperate shake of his head, though he wasn’t certain if it was Dexil or himself he was denying. “Benjinismy truth. No matter what you say, I know that to my core. Even if you’re right, even if I really am who you say I am, he’s as much a victim in all this as I am!”

“I truly wish that were so, Your Highness,” Dexil sighed. “But deep down, we both know it’s not.”

“Enough,” Janelle said. “This conversation is going in circles.” She strode to the door and rapped on it, then turned to Haldric. “Some rest will do you good, nephew. We’ll discuss this more in the morning.”

Footsteps echoed outside. A moment later, the door creaked open to reveal Fendrel standing at attention. “Yes, Your Grace?”

Janelle gestured at Haldric. “Please escort Prince Haldric to the rooms we’ve prepared for him…and make sure that he stays there.”

Fendrel snapped a salute. “Of course, Your Grace.”

Haldric quickly gauged the distance to the door and how many guards likely remained stationed outside. The answer wastoo many. Even then, he might’ve attempted it if not for the Grand Magus’ presence. Another mage lowered his chances of escape from slim to nonexistent.

Janelle rested a gauntleted hand on his shoulder as he walked past her. He stiffened at the touch. “Everything will work out for the best, Haldric. You’ll see. Soon enough, you’ll be right back where you belong.”

His stomach churned as he followed Fendrel silently down the hall to a nearby door flanked by a pair of guards. The thought of leaving Gerald’s Spring and his life here behind filled him with a sick dread.

At least Benjin is safe…for now.

Fendrel ushered him inside and locked the door behind him. Though not as lavishly appointed as Janelle’s chambers, it was still far bigger and more luxurious than the bedroom in the tiny cottage he’d shared with Benjin.

Still, he’d have given anything to be back there again, safe in Benjin’s arms.

He went straight to the bed, though sleep was the furthest thing from his mind. Wrapping his arms tight about his chest, he curled up atop the sheets, his mind reeling.

It was difficult enough to believe he might be some cursed prince, no matter

what the duchess and Grand Magus claimed. But to accept that Benjin of all people was the one who’d cursed him? It was absurd. Haldric refused to believe the love of his life was some evil warlock toying with his mind.

As the minutes dragged into hours, Haldric’s thoughts turning sluggish as they spun around and around in circles, he found his heart aching for Benjin. No matter what anyone else said, Haldric would hold out hope as long as he could. Benjin would never do anything to hurt or betray him—he had to believe that. Hehadto.

I miss you, Benjin,he thought as he finally drifted to sleep, hating the part of him that wondered if that emotion, too, was nothing but a lie.

three

Benjin

The pair of guardspaused in their patrol, chatting idly by the shared light of their torches. Benjin watched from the shelter of the nearby forest, waiting for them to return to the keep. The instant their backs were turned, he lunged from his hiding place and struck.

A blast of force yanked a guard’s sword straight out of his hand and sent it careening into the darkness. Another blast to the second guard’s legs sent him sprawling to the dirt. Benjin fell upon him first, slamming a rock against the side of his helm until he lay still.

By then, the first guard had recovered enough from his surprise to shout for aid. Benjin rose to face him, unconcerned. He could feel the tenuous zone of silence he’d erected earlier still holding. While it did nothing to block sound made within its area of effect, it would keep it from spreading any further.

Of course, that didn’t stop the guard from putting up a fight.

Before Benjin could ready another spell, the guard rushed him, swiftly closing the gap between them. Benjin tried to dodge out of the way, but the guard surprised him with a swift blow to the gut. His nascent runeflame cut out as he doubled over, wheezing for breath.

Thankfully, the guard took a moment to draw a dagger rather than pressing his advantage—a foolish error when facing an opponent with magic.

“Surrender now,” the guard ordered, glaring at him. “Or I’ll make you pay for what you did to the prince!”

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