Page 3 of The Prince's Curse

Benjin jerked back as Haldric spun toward the sound, his brow furrowing. “Goddess’ mercy, who could that be this early?”

Benjin’s eyes narrowed. “If it’s that Void-cursed merchant again, I swear to the Goddess, I’m going to—”

“Open up!” an unfamiliar voice shouted from the other side of the door. “By order of King Roland!”

Benjin glanced at Haldric and saw his own confusion echoed in his husband’s wide-eyed gaze. “Did you commit some terrible crime I’m not aware of?”

Haldric slowly shook his head. “Gerald’s Spring is over a week’s travel from the capital. What business could thekingpossibly have with us?”

The pounding at the door intensified. The old wood creaked, starting to crack and buckle beneath the sustained assault. At this rate, it wouldn’t be long before whoever was on the other side broke it down.

Benjin squared his shoulders, fierce determination flooding him. It would take more than evoking the name of some distant monarch he’d never met to cow him in his own home. He started toward the door, but Haldric intercepted him, holding up a hand.

“Hal!” Benjin hissed. “What are you doing?”

Haldric gave him a shaky smile. “You look ready to start hurling fireballs and wait to ask questions of the ashes. Let me handle this.”

Before Benjin could protest further, Haldric had stepped past him and thrown open the door, pasting on his best, most diplomatic smile. “Blessings of the Goddess upon you, gentlemen. What can I do for—”

Haldric cut off abruptly as gauntleted hands grabbed him and hauled him through the doorway.

“Hal!”Runeflame crackled across Benjin’s palms as he rushed forward. King’s orders or not, if they thought they could lay so much as afingeron Haldric against his will, they were gravely mistaken.

“Goddess have mercy,” someone outside exclaimed. “Itishim!”

“The prince!” another voice cried. “We’ve found him! At last, Prince Haldric is safe!”

That brought Benjin up short.Prince?What in the name of the Goddess were they talking about?

An image flickered before his eyes, some memory buried in the dark recesses of his mind, and he groaned, clutching his head.

A stone room paneled with intricate wooden carvings. A simple chair resting beside a small side table. And perched on the chair, his back ramrod straight as his foot jittered in that way he had when he was nervous, one hand in his lap and the other worrying knots in his silken black hair, sat…

Armored figures burst through the open doorway into the cottage, jarring Benjin out of the…Dream? Memory?

Whatever it had been, he’d worry about it later. The soldiers wore green tabards over their steel breastplates. Golden edging and insignia marked them as belonging to the king’s personal regiment. Their hostile faces scowled at him from beneath their gleaming metal helms. Many already had their swords and shields drawn.

“There he is!” one of them shouted, brandishing his sword at Benjin. “The dark sorcerer!”

With a burst of shock, Benjin realized it was the very merchant who’d been harassing him and Haldric this past week, though he looked little enough like a peddler now. Had he been a spy, scouting them out before this ambush?

Benjin felt frozen to the spot, his mind struggling to make sense of how abruptly the outside world had invaded their perfect little paradise. Only a handful of minutes ago, he and Haldric had been enjoying a quiet breakfast together, as they had countless times before.

What was he supposed to do? Did he try to fight these men? Did he retreat? But Haldric was still out there. Haldric needed him, and he—

From somewhere outside past the advancing soldiers, Haldric screamed,“Benjin! Run!”

The shout jarred Benjin from his stupor. Reacting on instinct, he feigned darting forward, then leaped to the side. Sword strokes sliced the air where he’d been. He took advantage of the soldiers being off balance to shove their feet with a blast of force.

He expected them to topple over, but they barely even stumbled, easily recovering. Brief flares of light from their shields drew his eye, and his gaze flicked to the etched runes he hadn’t noticed before. His gut twisted.

Protection sigils, meant to weaken and deflect magic targeting the bearer.

High quality wards like that would be difficult and expensive to set up. This wasn’t some random attack. These soldiers had come prepared to deal with mages. He and Haldric had been targeted. But why? And what was this nonsense about a prince?

“Remember, the Grand Magus needs him alive, so no lethal blows.” The orders came from a guard in the back. By the elaborate insignia marking his collar, Benjin took him to be their leader. The man glanced at Benjin, and Benjin was surprised to see something resembling bitter hurt lurking beneath his anger. “Surrender now, traitor, and this will go much easier for you.”

Benjin peered past the guards, gauging how quickly he could make it to the doorway. “Thanks, but I’ll pass.”

---