Page 30 of The Prince's Curse

But Benjin was studying him now, his expression thoughtful as his pale eyes narrowed. Haldric shifted uncomfortably beneath the silent scrutiny.

“What?” he demanded at last.

“Why do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Retreat inside yourself like that.” Benjin’s slate-gray eyes bored into him, seeming to pierce him and pin him in place. “It’s like…like you’re putting on a performance, trying to shut yourself off from everyone else around you.”

The observation slammed into Haldric, dragging his fears of being an undeserving impostor to the surface. “Fine,” he snapped, desperate to change the subject. “If you don’t feel like practicing your runes, then tell me what first drew you to runeflame. How did you learn to channel?”

Benjin visibly prickled, his shoulders tensing. “You mean, how did I learn to channel as a lowborn? I suppose you think magic should only be for the wealthy, huh?”

Oh, for the Goddess’ sake!“You know perfectly well that isn’t what I meant! Rich or poor, it makes no difference when it comes to magical talent…though I’ll admit, it’s easier for some than others to hone their craft.” A small smile graced Haldric’s lips as his thoughts turned to the past. “For me, it was the stories my father used to read at bedtime—tales of brave heroes and noble magicians. I used to dream of becoming a great mage and traveling Allaria to help those in need.”

Benjin’s harsh glare softened. “What changed?”

Picturing his sister, Haldric shoved down his grief and straightened his back. “My responsibilities caught up with me. A prince can’t exactly go gallivanting off across the countryside whenever the whim strikes him. My father and the kingdom need me here. What about you?”

An unexpected vulnerability flickered across Benjin’s face. He shrugged. “I learned everything I know via trial and error from an old spell tome I stumbled on as a kid.”

Haldric barked an incredulous laugh. “So, you’re saying you’ve always been this reckless?”

He regretted his words the instant he said them, certain Benjin would take insult. To his relief, Benjin’s face split in a wry grin. “Believe it or not, I was careful.” His expression darkened. “At least, until the baroness I’d borrowed the book from caught me with it.”

“What did she do?”

Benjin stared at the scribbled parchment in front of him. His fingers twitched restlessly in his lap. “What do you think? She sent my mother and me packing the next morning with nothing but the clothes on our backs. Since then, I’ve managed a few basic cantrips I picked up from that book and a couple other things I taught myself along the way.”

Despite himself, Haldric was impressed. There was something admirable about Benjin’s determination to learn. “Care to show me what you know?”

Benjin’s cheeks reddened. “It’s nothing compared to the sort of magic you can do. That demonstration you showed me the other day puts anything I can do to shame.”

“Show me anyway. Please. I want to see.”

Benjin glanced at him, his eyes unreadable. After a span of heartbeats, he sighed. “Suit yourself.”

Haldric watched curiously as Benjin made a series of crude hand gestures. Though Haldric recognized some of them, he’d never seen them arranged in such a peculiar configuration.

His breath caught when the flame from a nearby candle shifted into a pair of fiery simulacrums. Though the little figures were indistinct, Haldric could tell from the way they moved that they were arguing.

He studied them for a moment, then grinned. “Is that supposed to be us?”

“Mhmm. I think I nailed the arrogant way you stand quite well, if I do say so myself.” The small smile Benjin gave him took any sting out of the words.

Benjin gestured, and the figures shifted into two new people Haldric didn’t recognize dancing slowly with one another.

“Who’s that?” he asked softly, admiring the twirling figures. The underlying runes might’ve been poorly made, but the overall effect was impressively complex, mixing a Conjuration with several different Evocations.

Benjin was slow to answer. Haldric glanced at him, surprised to see his drawn, pained expression. “My mother and father…or at least, what I imagine they might’ve looked like together. I never met my father, and Mom doesn’t like to talk about him much. All I know is that he was a soldier.”

Sympathy shivered down Haldric’s spine. “My father is the same way about my mother. She passed when I was very little: an accident while out horseback riding. The chirurgeons couldn’t get to her in time.”

Benjin nodded, a silent understanding flashing between them. Unsure what else to say, Haldric focused back on Benjin’s display. It was a kind of magic he’d never practiced himself—the sort you might see from a bard or other street performer. Impractical, with no real applications…yet undeniably beautiful.

Benjin finished his routine. A faint blush colored his cheeks as the fiery figures winked out. “Like I said, it’s not real magic—just a trick I picked up to help me earn some extra coin.”

“I thought it was brilliant,” Haldric said truthfully. “No wonder the Grand Magus agreed to take you on as his apprentice.”

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