Page 44 of The Prince's Curse

Recalling his disastrous interview with Dexil, Benjin wasn’t so sure. Just whathadthe Grand Magus seen in him?

Haldric sank into his own seat away from the window with a frustrated sigh, reaching up to adjust the silver circlet upon his brow. “There must be something more I can do to help those people. No one deserves to be treated like that. Perhaps if we talked to them, explained what we’re doing to secure more food from the other provinces—”

“These people arestarving, Haldric. Empty words won’t fill their bellies.”

“I understand how they feel,” Haldric said. “But—”

Benjin spun toward him, a quiet fury gripping him. “No. You don’t. You’llneverknow what it’s like for the rest of us, scraping and struggling just to get by.”

Haldric flinched. “It’s not my fault I was born a noble! I didn’t ask for any of this. You think Iwantto be the royal heir?”

Surprise stilled Benjin’s tongue, cooling some of his ire. “You don’t want to be king?”

Haldric gave a humorless snort. “Goddess no! I told you, I wanted to be a mage, or maybe a scholar. It was my sister who was supposed to rule.” He turned away, staring out the window on the opposite end of the carriage. “Now, Melisie is gone, and Ilthabard’s stuck with me. You’re right. I have no idea what I’m doing. I’ll just end up letting everyone down.”

Benjin had caught glimpses before of the man beneath Haldric’s constant armor, but this was the first time Benjin had ever seen him discard it so utterly. Without thinking, he slid closer to the prince, resting his hand on his forearm.

“Forgive me—I let my own frustration get the better of me. What I said isn’t fair. You have the makings of a great king…assuming you ever get your head out of your backside.”

Haldric chuckled, shifting on the bench. Benjin expected him to pull away, but if anything, he seemed to lean into Benjin’s touch. His green eyes were soft and imploring, his voice full of desperate yearning. “Do you really think so?”

Benjin swallowed, his stomach buzzing with some emotion he couldn’t name. “I do.”

The day passed quickly after that. At Haldric’s suggestion, they spent the rest of the afternoon practicing their runes. The carriage trundled along, leaving Revesole behind and heading out into the sloping countryside. They passed through onepacked town after another, trails of smoke billowing in rising plumes from the many manufactories that dotted the region.

The central province of Hasenbill had long been known for its industry, making use of the stone and ore transported south from Nillis’ mines at the base of the Korvanthan Mountains. This close to the capital, even the smallest village had a handful of local blacksmiths and stonemasons competing to outproduce one another.

Dim twilight blanketed the countryside when Marshal Fendrel finally called a halt. The marshal had insisted they set up camp rather than risk unwanted attention at an inn. He and the other royal guards soon had the tents assembled, a campfire blazing, and a pot of stew boiling with practiced ease.

“What, no lavish feast for the prince?” Benjin joked as he took a seat by the fire near Haldric. He dipped a spoon into his bowl of stew, then blew on it when it proved too hot to eat.

Haldric raised an eyebrow at Benjin while he stirred his own bowl of stew. “Sorry to disappoint, but even we royals must make some sacrifices when on the road.” He grimaced, his spoon stilling. “Besides, I’d wager this is a feast compared to what those people we passed in Revesole are eating tonight.”

“True.” Benjin stared down at the floating hunks of beef and potatoes in his bowl, his appetite fading. He knew firsthand what it was like to suffer the hollow pangs of hunger and wonder when your next meal would come. He’d do whatever it took to avoid returning to that sorry state.

As if reading Benjin’s troubled thoughts, Haldric ventured, “How about some more practice to pass the time? We could work on the gestures for conjuring and controlling light.”

Benjin groaned and made a show of massaging his wrist. “If I have to write anything else today, my fingers will fall right off.” His gaze trailed to the scabbard Haldric wore. “What’s it like being a spellblade?”

Haldric grinned. “You’re just looking for an excuse to get out of lessons.” When Benjin didn’t bother to deny it, Haldric shook his head. “All right, fine. I suppose it never hurts to expand your knowledge of runeflame. What do you want to know?”

“Everything.” A flush of excitement washed away Benjin’s earlier melancholy. There were few things in Allaria he loved as much as learning about magic. “How does it work? What sort of spells can you cast? Why did you pick it up?”

Haldric’s fingers trailed to his scabbard. “It seemed a natural fit for a king of Ilthabard looking to project an image of strength. A lot of it comes down to translating the traditional runes and gestures into swordplay. Rather than channeling a spell through your fingers, you release the runeflame via a precise strike.”

“That’s it?” Benjin felt certain he had to be missing something.

Sure enough, Haldric chuckled. The sound sent a ripple of warmth through Benjin’s core. “Since when is anything involving runeflame ever that simple? Just like Dexil’s alchemy relies on specific combinations of ingredients prepared certain ways to bolster the magic, spellblades rely on enchantments. Here, watch.”

Haldric set aside his bowl and stood, drawing his sword. Turning it onto its side, he drew a finger awash of runeflame along the flat of the blade, carefully sketching a series of sigils onto the gleaming surface. They sank into the metal, infusing it with an azure glow.

“What did that do?” Benjin asked.

“I primed the blade to make it a better conduit for my magic. In particular, I attuned it to lightning. See?”

Haldric took a few practice swings to warm up before flaring his runeflame and performing a flourishing thrust with his sword. A surge of electricity erupted from the sword’s tip. Benjin let out an appreciative whistle at the display, but Haldric wasn’t done yet. Spinning, the prince performed a sweeping slice thatsent a short line of lightning crackling outward to scour the dirt in front of him.

Benjin leaped to his feet and cheered. “By the Goddess, that was magnificent!”

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