Page 9 of The Prince's Curse

There was that word again.Benjin briefly considered trying to capture the soldier to interrogate him, but he didn’t dare risk the delay. Better to finish this fight before his silence ward ran out or another patrol discovered them.

Focusing on the dagger in the guard’s grip, Benjin made a quick hand gesture. Silver-laced blue runeflame flared. The guard recoiled with a pained shout, dropping the dagger as the metal turned white-hot in an instant.

Benjin canceled his spell and lunged for the abandoned blade. Swiping up the now-cool dagger, he moved to stab the soldier through a gap in his chest armor, then hesitated. He didn’t want to kill anyone—not unless he had to.

Instead, he drove the dagger into the soldier’s leg. The guard howled, clutching at the wound as he dropped to his knees. Taking advantage of the guard’s distraction, Benjin ripped the dagger free and rammed its pommel into the soldier’s exposed brow. The guard collapsed unconscious beside his companion.

With both guards down, silence fell save for Benjin’s ragged pants piercing the quiet night. All told, the brief tussle had taken less than thirty seconds. Still, Benjin felt far too exposed. He took a moment to catch his breath, then hurried to unfasten the first guard’s armor, tugging on the breastplate and helm before slipping across the field toward the baron’s keep in the distance.

It hadn’t been difficult to trace the royal guards back to Lord Simmons’ estate. The tricky part was going to be figuring out where they were holding Haldric so Benjin could free him and get them both far, far away from here.

He’d spent the better part of the day on the run. Though he hadn’t seen that soulflame warrior again, he’d encountered plenty of other soldiers eager to mount his head on a pike. It was only by some quick thinking, a lot of luck, and the grace of his magic that he’d eluded them as long as he had.

Magic I don’t remember ever learning, he thought with a fresh prickle of unease. Evocations like those blasts of force had always come easily to him, but advanced spells like that zone of silence or heating metal? That was more Haldric’s domain.

Slipping past another pair of patrolling guards in the dark, Benjin cast the matter out of mind. Haldric must have taught him a few things over the years, that was all—old spells that had come to him in his moment of need.

He’d worried about gaining access to the keep. Even disguised, he didn’t dare slip in straight through the front unless he had no other choice. Thankfully, he found an unwatched servant’s door tucked into the side exactly where he’d somehow guessed one might be.

Slipping inside, he found himself in a dimly lit stone hall. His heart sank as he glanced about the confusing collision of corridors, trying to decide where to begin. If they’d taken Haldric prisoner, the dungeon seemed the most likely place they’d stick him.

The thought of Haldric, terrified and alone and bound in chains, filled Benjin with impotent rage. He gritted his teeth and picked a direction at random to begin his search, more determined than ever to do whatever it took to see Haldric safe.

His pulse quickened when he turned a corner and spied another guard strolling the opposite way down the hall.

“Hail, private,” the woman called, dashing Benjin’s hope of slipping past unnoticed. “You look lost.”

Scrambling for an excuse, he forced a sheepish grin and rubbed his neck beneath the bottom of his stolen helm. “Is it that obvious? These Void-cursed corridors all look the same to me.”

Some of his tension ebbed when the other guard chuckled. “I know what you mean.” She glanced at the dingy stone walls and sniffed. “Lord Simmons really should take better care of his estate. Goddess forbid he have genuine need of it if Nalax or Khordan ever see fit to invade. I for one can’t wait to return to a proper city like Revesole.”

“You and me both.”

He gave her a quick nod and went to move past, hoping that’d be the end of the conversation. His stomach sank when she stopped him with an upraised hand.

“Hold on. Where are you heading? Maybe I can help you out.”

“Prisoner duty,” he grunted, hoping his feigned boredom sounded believable. His fingers twitched as he kept his runeflame close at hand.

The other guard snorted. “So, they have you watching over our wayward prince, huh? Goddess’ luck upon you.” She leaned in closer, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “From what I’ve heard, you might need it. They say that dark sorcery has driven him mad.”

Benjin’s breath caught. Could she be talking about Haldric? Benjin still didn’t know what thisprincenonsense was about, but the royal guards at their cottage had said something similar, as had the soldier outside. Perhaps they’d mistaken Haldric for someone else.

“I guess I’ll find out soon enough,” he said, playing along as he relaxed his grip on his magic. “Is he down in the cells?”

“You think they’d put the Void-cursedprince of Ilthabardin a cell?” She shook her head, looking amused. “You must not havespent much time among nobles, my friend. Prisoner or not, they have him in the baron’s best guest quarters. Come on, I’ll show you.”

She started to turn, and he hurriedly held up a hand. “Thanks, but I don’t want to put you out like that. I’m certain I can find my own way with some directions.”

He tensed when she eyed him, relaxing only after she shrugged and resumed her original course. “Suit yourself. You want to go left up ahead, then follow the right-most passage around. If you reach the great hall, you’ve gone too far. Best of luck, private.”

Benjin held his breath, waiting until she’d vanished from view before continuing down the corridor. Thank the Goddess she hadn’t recognized him or questioned him further. The soldiers here must be a mix of different companies for her to not question why she didn’t know him.

He followed her directions as best he could, entering what appeared to be the keep’s main living area. An older man dressed in extravagant robes and bedecked in all manner of jewelry exited a door down a side hall. Benjin spared the man only a passing glance, but when he glimpsed the man’s face, he stumbled, almost sprawling to the dank, cold stone.

A sudden wave of vertigo washed over him, and he clung to the wall for support. Though he was certain he’d never seen the man before, he couldn’t stop this creeping sensation that he knew him, the man’s odd violet eyes achingly familiar. A jumble of emotions assaulted him, fear and respect mixing with a deep-seated desire to make the man proud.

Thankfully, the man didn’t seem to notice the swooning guard at the opposite end of the hall. Benjin watched with bated breath as the man turned and walked the other way, afraid to move in case that drew his attention.

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