Page 62 of The Prince's Curse

twenty-three

Benjin

The moment they arrivedat the palace, Benjin could tell something was wrong. The courtyard was a beehive of activity. Royal guards and servants rushed about with a franticness Benjin had only seen during the Summit. Then, however, there’d been an undercurrent of excitement and anticipation. This time, there was only a dull, ominous sense of dread.

“What do you think’s going on?” he asked Haldric.

Haldric stared out the window, his face as grim as those of the servants. “I don’t know.” Benjin’s heart fluttered when Haldric briefly squeezed his hand. “Whatever it is, we’ll deal with it. Together.”

Benjin nodded, relaxing at the prince’s reassurance. Last night had felt different from their first together at the Galax estate—less rushed and more tender. This time, there’d been no spur-of-the-moment decisions. They’d both known exactly what it meant.

Of course, it also helped that Haldric hadn’t fled the instant the sun rose. Even if hehadinsisted on slipping out early after waking Benjin with a good morning kiss.

Palace guards swarmed them the instant their carriage came to a halt. “Your Highness,” one of them said, her voice brisk. “You must come with us at once.”

Haldric’s courtly mask slipped into place, his shoulders squaring. “What is this about, Captain?”

The guard’s gaze flicked to Benjin. “I’m not at liberty to say, Your Highness. I’m to bring you straight to the king’s quarters. Duchess Janelle’s orders.”

Haldric paled. “My father. Is he—?”

“I don’t know, Your Highness.” A hint of sympathy bled into the guard’s expression. “Please, come with me. The duchess will explain more.”

Haldric nodded, allowing the guards to lead him from the carriage. Benjin hesitated on the bench, uncertain whether to follow until Haldric glanced back at him, his green eyes pleading.

Benjin snagged his satchel with the Grand Magus’ parcel and hurried to follow the prince. That earned him a few sideways glances from the guards, but no one stopped him. Prince Haldric visibly relaxed once he spotted Benjin, shooting him a grateful smile.

They passed Marshal Fendrel and the other soldiers, who appeared to be receiving their own debriefing. Fendrel glanced at Benjin as he passed and gave him a nod. Benjin nodded back, pride warming his chest. Apparently, fighting together in defense of the prince had finally earned him the marshal’s respect.

Haldric’s obvious tension grew as they navigated the palace corridors toward the king’s chambers. By the time they reachedthe entryway and found it abuzz with activity, Haldric’s back was so stiff that Benjin worried it might snap.

He longed to reach out and grip Haldric’s hand, to whisper words of comfort, but he didn’t dare—not with so many eyes on them. Haldric could make whatever promises he wanted in the comfort of night and each other’s arms, but Benjin wasn’t a fool. Whatever future they might find together could never be official or in the open thanks to his arrangement with House Galax.

The thought wormed a hole in Benjin’s belly, but he shoved it aside. He could worry about that later. Right now, he had to be here for Haldric.

Amid the activity, Benjin spied the Grand Magus speaking with a pair of chirurgeons. Haldric seemed frozen in place, so Benjin placed a hand on his back and gently steered him in that direction. The Grand Magus glanced over as they approached, appearing unsurprised to see them together.

“Ah, good, you’ve arrived. I’m afraid we’ll have to postpone discussing your trip. As you can see, things have been somewhat hectic here.”

“My father,” Haldric croaked. “Is he…?”

Benjin poofed out a breath when Dexil smiled. “Alive, thank the Goddess. But he gave us quite the scare when a servant found him collapsed in his sitting room.” A hint of sadness crept into his smile. He rested a comforting hand on Haldric’s shoulder. “I’m afraid his condition has worsened, Your Highness.”

“But…but the healers,” Haldric protested. His fingers worked uselessly at his tunic, as though longing to grip a sword or cast a spell. “Your potions! Surely,somethingcan be done.”

The Grand Magus heaved a sigh. “We all knew this day would come, my boy. The corruption within him has +run its course. There’s little else magic can do now except ease his pain.”

Haldric’s mouth worked open and shut, his expression lost. Benjin’s urge to wrap him in a hug was nearly irresistible.

“How long?” the prince finally asked.

“I wish I could say, Your Highness. Weeks, months…it’s impossible to predict. Such is the nature of the Void.”

“Thank you,” Haldric said. Unease gripped Benjin at the stiffness in his voice. Faced with his grief, he must be retreating beneath his veneer of formality. “You’ve ever been a loyal servant to my father, Dexil. And a trusted teacher to me. I won’t forget that.”

The Grand Magus’ violet eyes were pools of sorrow as he embraced the prince. Haldric didn’t return the gesture beyond an awkward pat on the back.

“Of course, Your Highness,” Dexil said. “I shall always endeavor to do what is best, for both you and Ilthabard.”

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