Page 68 of The Prince's Curse

His gaze hardening, Haldric met the Grand Magus’ questioning violet eyes and gave a single jerk of his head. “Do it.”

twenty-five

Benjin

From within the enchantedcabinet, Benjin sank back, stunned. What in the name of the Goddess was Haldric thinking? How could he be such a coward? To leave Benjin behind without a second thought hurt bad enough. But to flee his responsibilities rather than facing the future? It was sheer cowardice.

He struggled with renewed vigor against his bonds as he heard the Grand Magus setting about preparations for the ritual outside the cabinet door. Benjin had no idea how long that would take—how long he had to stop Haldric before he made a colossal mistake. But he had to try.

He’d hoped the magical bonds might weaken when he was locked away, but whatever spell the Grand Magus had used remained as strong as ever. Try as he might, Benjin couldn’t wriggle free, nor cast any magic of his own. What he wouldn’t give to be a bard right now, capable of shaping his runeflame via song.

When he heard Dexil’s muffled voice announce, “It’s time,” helplessness threatened to drag him under.

“Don’t do this, Haldric!” he screamed, slamming his bound legs against the door of the cabinet. “Stop!”

But there was no answer. His pleas went unheard. Whatever magic infused this cabinet with extradimensional space also kept it soundproof from the outside, the door safely latched shut.

The only way Benjin was getting out of here was via magic. And the only way he’d manage more than worthless flashes of runeflame was if he recovered the full use of his hands.

Ritual chanting began outside, along with the rush of expanding magic. Benjin sank against one of the cabinet’s interior walls, resting his chin on his chest.

Wasthishow his and Haldric’s tale concluded? Haldric would erase all memories of his life as a prince—including his time with Benjin. And the Grand Magus would take advantage of the chaos to enact his coup. Even with the king still alive, Haldric’s willingness must’ve been too tempting for Dexil to pass up. Would he even bother waiting for the king to pass before starting his rebellion?

Benjin supposed he’d find out soon enough.

He’d all but succumbed to his hopelessness when he felt a subtle shift in his bindings, the magic sustaining them abruptly lessening. At first, Benjin suspected a trick or feared he’d missed the ritual’s conclusion. But no. he could still hear the ritual proceeding outside, sense the magic gathering in the air like static electricity even here within this extradimensional space.

The magic—that’s it!

Performing the ritual must demand too much of Dexil’s attention to spare for anything else…including sustaining Benjin’s bonds. Whatever prepared enchantment he’d used to cast the spell still required his active concentration, and he hadn’t had time to shore up the magic before Haldric’s arrival.

Renewing his struggle, Benjin rejoiced when the weakened chains finally gave way, loosening about his wrists. He yanked one hand free, then the other, before tearing at the chains still binding his legs. Soon enough, he was free.

But that still left him trapped within this cabinet.

As he racked his brain for the spells he knew, seeking one that might work, he thought of King Roland and the other governors. How exactly did Dexil intend to spin Haldric’s disappearance? Would he pretend the prince ran away? Come up with another elaborate excuse?

Benjin shoved the idle thought aide. It didn’t matter—not when Benjin had no intention of letting things progress that far. He’d knock some sense into the stubborn prince if it was the last thing he did.

Just as soon as I find a way out of this Void-cursed cabinet!

Directly interacting with the magic like he had that enemy mage’s fireball was out of the question. That had been a happy accident more than anything. Benjin didn’t have the first clue how to set about dispelling the Grand Magus’ spell.

Conjuration? Pass. What simple object might be summon to help him here? Even if he managed a suitable lockpick, it’s not as if he knew how to use it.

Alteration? That had some promise. He might change the door to something more malleable like water or cloth, or something easily breakable like glass. Yet, when he attempted a basic cantrip on the door, it held firm, the magic used in its creation reinforcing it. A strong enough spell would likely override it, but Benjin didn’t possess that kind of magic. Not yet.

Protection? Restoration? Divination? Compulsion? All worthless unless he intended to bolster the door further or convince it to open by asking nicely.

That only left one option. Shuffling as far back from the door as he could, Benjin raised his hands with a grimace, drawingupon his reserve of runeflame until the extradimensional space blazed with azure light. Then, he let it go.

The blast of force hurled him against the far wall and left his back aching and his head ringing, not too different from what it had felt like when he’d been thrown from that wagon. He’d poured a hefty chunk of his runeflame into the blast, not wanting to take any chances.

Triumph surged through him when the haze of expended runeflame cleared to reveal his Evocation had accomplished its goal, blowing the cabinet door clean off its hinges. Scrambling forward, Benjin tumbled free from the extradimensional space, landing with a slight lurch of his stomach on the cold stone of Dexil’s lab.

He staggered to his feet, his eyes wide. All around him, runeflame twisted in a glowing azure whirlwind streaked with bands of silver. The gathering magic raised the hairs on his body and left his skin faintly tingling.

The Grand Magus stood off to one side. Bands of runeflame coalesced in one hand while the other held Percival’s dawnflame sphere aloft, crackling with golden light. At the center of the whirlwind stood Haldric. Both of them stared at Benjin.

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