Page 31 of The Prince's Curse

Benjin’s blush deepened. “I, um, didn’t show him that one. I was worried he’d find it too frivolous.”

His light gray eyes met Haldric’s, an emotion in them that Haldric couldn’t quite decipher. Something stirred in Haldric’s chest, and he found his gaze lingering on Benjin’s long, lean lines and the nest of blond curls that fell about his narrow face. His heartbeat quickened as a fresh tension filled the air between them, one Haldric wasn’t entirely sure how to break…or if he even wanted to.

Suddenly, Benjin jerked to his feet. Muttering a vague excuse under his breath, he turned and fled from the chamber, leaving Haldric blinking confusedly after him.

eleven

Benjin

Benjin wove his waythrough the palace corridors with a package to deliver for the Grand Magus tucked under one arm, unable to get his last encounter with Haldric out of his mind. It had felt different to their previous meetings—more personal. Though perhaps that had been because of what they’d discussed.

After several weeks of continued lessons at the Grand Magus’ insistence, that had been the first time Benjin felt like he’d truly seen beneath the prince’s stifled exterior to the real him. And despite Benjin’s preconceptions, Haldric hadn’tseemedlike another arrogant noble. Indeed, he was quiet, thoughtful, considerate.

Not to mention exceedingly handsome…

Almost losing his footing, Benjin caught himself on the wall and shoved the inappropriate thought aside. He needed to focus on his task if he didn’t want to get lost again. After a month in the palace running errands on Dexil’s behalf, he should probably have learned his way around by now. But alas…

In many ways, the palace still felt every bit as intimidating as it had upon his first visit to the Grand Magus. Everything was so open and spacious, and while Ilthabardian décor might be austere compared to the tales he’d heard of distant lands, it was lavish compared to anything he’d encountered in Revesole. Some days, he doubted he’d ever feel like he belonged.

He reached an intersection and hesitated. Had the exit to the courtyard been east or south from here? Goddess’ mercy, he couldn’t remember. He considered flagging down a passing servant for help, but the woman looked like she was in a hurry.

Pretty much everyone was these days, what with the Summit less than a week away. Even now, Dexil was attending to some last-minute preparations in the hall. As soon as Benjin completed this delivery, he was supposed to join him.

Chancing the east corridor, Benjin barreled on. After several false turns and a mortifying chat with a suspicious guard who flagged him down after the third time he passed the same checkpoint, he finally emerged into the palace’s main courtyard.

He hadn’t had much occasion to come out here, his business on behalf of the Grand Magus keeping him firmly ensconced within the palace walls. He hadn’t even had a chance to visit his mother in Revesole yet, relying on couriers to deliver his weekly wages.

Benjin scanned the courtyard and spotted the stables nestled off to the far side against a heavy stone wall. Poking his head inside, he wrinkled his nose at the musk of horses, hay, and manure. “Hello? Is anyone here?”

“Yes, yes, what do you want?” A grizzled woman emerged from one of the stalls, eyeing him impatiently.

He held up his bundle. “Delivery from the Grand Magus.”

“About Void-cursed time.” The woman snatched the parcel from him and tore into it, extracting the bottle nestled within.“Had to patch up two mares already this week. With any luck, this salve will help thicken their hides.”

“What happened?” Benjin hadn’t heard about any recent battles that would’ve led to wounded horses.

The woman spat into the straw littering the stable floor. “Goddess-spurned rabble down in Revesole raising a ruckus, what else? As if King Roland ain’t already doing all he can for them. If there’s a food shortage, it’s those greedy nobles over in Leonia who are responsible. Hard to tell if the rioters were trying to kill the horses to send a message or if they were that desperate for fresh meat.”

Benjin’s stomach roiled. His mother’s last missive suggested she was doing fine, especially with the extra coin he’d sent her. Still, it galled him to hear how bad things had gotten compared to life here in the palace. No matter what the stablemaster said, this was happening on King Roland’s watch. It seemed the height of decadence to be organizing a feast for the Provincial Council while commoners starved little more than a stone’s throw away.

Not that he dared voice any of that. “Perhaps the Summit will help.”

The woman sighed, shaking her head. “We can hope. Tell your master thanks from me. At least there’s one among those nobles that knows how to look after us little folk.”

Benjin considered the conversation while he navigated the halls toward the banquet hall where he was supposed to meet the Grand Magus, barely even noticing when a passing noblewoman held her nose as she passed. Musings on unrest and injustice slowly bled into thoughts of Haldric.

What would the prince make of the situation in Revesole? Did he have any idea what it was like for the average citizen under his father’s rule? Did any of them, except perhaps Grand Magus Dexil, even care?

The main hall had been transformed since the last time Benjin passed through it. Long tables lined the edges while a circular table sat alone in the center. That was where the delegation of governors would meet to discuss the future of Ilthabard while their respective retinues feasted nearby.

Benjin spotted the Grand Magus by the central table and moved past servants and guards to join him. “The stable master thanks you for the salve. A Protection?”

“An Alteration, actually,” Dexil replied with a distracted smile. “To harden the horses’ skin and make them more resistant to blunt objects. Not as effective as a true Protection ward, but longer lasting with less runeflame required. Magic needn’t always be flashy in order to get the job done.”

The Grand Magus gestured to the table, where Benjin noticed a series of partially etched runes. “Take this warding, for instance. There’s all manner of spells I might use to keep the Provincial Council’s conversation private, each more elaborate than the last. But the simplest solutions are usually best. Tell me, what do you see?”

Benjin leaned in and studied the runes. Though far more complex than any he’d learned thus far, he thought he could pick out familiar segments representing certain elements or actions. “A barrier,” he said slowly, squinting at the markings. “Of shadow and…air?”

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