Page 80 of The Prince's Curse

Haldric took the lead, his sword aloft and crackling with runeflame. Other than the occasional rebel patrol, the palace remained eerily empty. What few signs of resistance Haldric and his aunt had noticed on their way to the dungeons were already gone, the fighting ended as the rebels sought to solidify their control.

If Haldric’s hunch was correct and Dexil had used magic to subdue the royal guards before his coup, the barracks made the logical choice to check first. A few more twists and turns, and they finally reached the entrance. Sure enough, a squad of rebels stood watch over the door, sealed off by one of Dexil’s wards.

Leaning close to Benjin, Haldric whispered, “I’ll cause a distraction and head in first. You stay back here to give me cover. And try not to hit me.”

Benjin grinned and pressed a kiss to Haldric’s brow that sent a thrill of heat through him. “No promises,” Benjin murmured as he pulled away.

Huffing softly under his breath, Haldric checked the enchantments on his sword and armor, readying himself. When one of the rebels turned to chat with the man next to him, Haldric seized his opening.

Conjuring a bright flash of light to momentarily blind their foes, Haldric charged in, his sword awash with runeflame. Benjin, meanwhile, hung back, lobbing bolts of concentrated force the way an archer might arrows. Each swing of Haldric’s sword erupted with a different stored Evocation. Fire, ice, and lightning washed over any foes foolish enough to get in his way.

The bout was over in seconds. The rebels crumbled under the pressure, barely managing to recover and mount any semblance of a real defense before most of their number lay crumpled on the ground. Haldric finished the last of them off with a crackle of electricity. Stepping over their twitching body, he beckoned Benjin forward and squinted to examine the ward sealing the door.

“This might take a while to dismantle,” Haldric admitted with a sigh as Benjin stepped up beside him. “My studies have focused more on personal Protections rather than this kind of larger ward. I’m not even sure where to start.”

“I can do it.” Haldric jerked his gaze to Benjin in surprise, and the apprentice smirked, raising a brow. “Guess you’re not better than me at everything after all. I helped the Grand Magus prepare plenty of spells like this for the Summit. I think I’ve got a pretty good idea what to do.”

Benjin’s grin faded at his mention of the Grand Magus. Haldric understood. Dexil’s treachery remained equally raw and painful to him. He rested a hand on Benjin’s arm.

“All right, then. You take the lead, and together, we’ll make quick work of it.”

Benjin blinked, his gray eyes softening as he focused on Haldric’s face. He took Haldric’s hand and squeezed it. “Together.”

It took longer than Haldric would have liked to dismantle the ward even with Benjin’s assistance, but eventually they managed. Inside, they found the barracks filled nearly to capacity, almost every cot occupied by a snoring royal guard. Dexil must’ve knocked them out, much as he had Haldric’s aunt. He and Benjin tried to rouse them, but just like Janelle, the magic kept the guards oblivious to the world.

“We could check the Grand Magus’ lab for something to wake them,” Benjin suggested. He didn’t sound thrilled by the idea.

Haldric shook his head. “Too risky to travel all that way. Plus, we don’t know what sorts of traps or wards Dexil might have placed over his tower.” Shoving down his exhaustion, Haldric said, “We’ll have to break the Compulsion ourselves.”

Finding Marshal Fendrel asleep amid the others, they decided to start with him. Neither of them was particularly well-trained in Compulsions, but enough poking and prodding with their magic finally dispelled the effects of Dexil’s spell.

Marshal Fendrel shuddered and jerked awake, glaring up at them. His fingers went for the sword at his waist. “What in the name of the Goddess is going on? Prince Haldric?”

A little jab of pain pierced Haldric’s chest at the use of his former title. He wondered how long it would take for that instinct to fade.

“KingHaldric,” he corrected gently.

The marshal’s gaze widened as he hissed in a breath. “King Roland has passed?” He swept his gaze over the dozing guards scattered about the chamber. “What is the meaning of this?”

Haldric rose, Benjin hovering protectively at his back. “We have much to discuss, Marshal. I’ll explain everything while we rouse the rest of your men.”

He and Benjin ran out of energy well before they reached everyone. Whatever magic Dexil had concocted to knock them out was too potent. Those they’d already awoken would have to suffice.

With Benjin, Marshal Fendrel, and a dozen of the royal guard’s finest at his back, Haldric set off down the nearest corridor, determined to take the fight to the rebels in earnest. It didn’t take long for them to fall into a groove. Benjin would stay back, channeling his magic from afar to provide ranged support and pick off any enemy archers. Meanwhile, Haldric and Fendrel would lead the charge while the other guards spread out to cover their backs and thwart any attempts by the rebels to escape.

Haldric’s spellstrikes overwhelmed any foe foolish enough to meet his blade via sheer force. Fendrel, conversely, relied on his soulflame to flow across the battlefield with unearthly grace, his every step precise and each flick of his sword unerringly finding its mark.

Even with all the advantages afforded them by their magic and superior training, it took hours to scour the palace room by room, rooting out the invaders as they went. What the rebels lacked in skill they made up for in sheer numbers.

Relief mixed with Haldric’s exhaustion when they finally cornered the last of the rebel groups near the banquet hall.They’d discovered most of the palace servants sealed inside, rendered unconscious like the guards. Another mercy by the Grand Magus, to reduce civilian casualties. Haldric supposed he should be grateful for Dexil’s soft heart, though he found it difficult at the moment to think of the Grand Magus with anything except contempt.

“Same plan as usual?” Benjin asked. He looked as exhausted as Haldric felt, his gray eyes drooping and his runeflame beginning to flicker.

Fendrel jerked a nod, his jaw set as he glared around the corner at the entrenched rebel position. “If you can distract their archers, the king and I should have no trouble reaching their position. Once we break through and scatter their frontline, it’ll be easy for my soldiers to mop up the remainder. On your order, Your Majesty.”

Haldric’s gaze drifted over the rebel’s position. One last fight. Then they could finally rest and put this dark day behind them.

He opened his mouth to give the order, then froze when his eyes locked on one of the rebels huddled behind their makeshift barricade. The boy couldn’t have been much older than sixteen. His piecemeal armor looked like it had been scrounged from a junk heap, his dented sword barely a step above scrap metal. Even from here, Haldric could make out the naked fear on the boy’s face, see the faint tremble in his arms.

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