16. Haldric

sixteen

Haldric

A foul mood hung over Haldric as he stormed down the path leading from Duke Westley's estate back toward their camp. Void take that insufferable man! He flexed his clenched jaw, grinding his teeth together.

Dinner with the duke had proven about as unpleasant as he'd expected. Westley spent the entire time not so subtly hinting at his ‘requests' for once Haldric assumed the throne. Not wanting to cause a diplomatic incident, Haldric had smiled and nodded, keeping his cool all the way until dessert.

But then Westley had had the gall to insult Melisie's legacy right to Haldric's face, implying it was her own carelessness that had gotten her killed. And that was one jab too much to bear.

"Are you all right, Your Highness?" Fendrel called out as Haldric approached.

"I'm fine, Marshal," Haldric snapped as he stalked past. Instant guilt curdled his gut, and he turned back, adding, "But thank you for your concern."

"Of course, Your Highness," Fendrel said with a bow. "If you need anything, please let me or one of my soldiers know."

Haldric nodded and continued deeper into camp, eager to escape the marshal's watchful gaze. After that disaster of a dinner, he wanted nothing more than to hide in his tent and wait for dawn so they could be on their way.

He'd have avoided meeting Westley at all if he could, but their planned route took them straight through the duke's lands in Zaros along the Tholan River. As much as Haldric disliked the man, he dared not needlessly antagonize him…though after tonight, he wished he had. It would be a relief to pass beyond Zaros' borders through the heavily guarded checkpoint into Khordan tomorrow.

He was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he didn't notice the shadowed figure sitting outside his tent until they spoke. "Rough night, huh?"

Haldric jerked to a halt and eyed Benjin, his pulse thrumming at the sight of the apprentice. "What are you still doing up?"

Benjin stood and dusted off his pants. "Waiting for you. With how stressed you looked when you left, I figured you might want someone to vent to when you returned." Heat flooded Haldric's neck when Benjin peered at his face, then smirked. "Looks like I was right."

Scowling, Haldric crossed his arms over his dress tunic. Part of him wanted to snap at Benjin to mind his own Void-cursed business and shove past him into his tent. Instead, he found himself striding over to slump by their doused campfire.

Benjin settled down across from him, reviving the fire with a flash of runeflame. "All right, so spill," Benjin prompted. "What's so bad about this particular duke? I mean, I hate him on principle for being a spoiled noble, but I assume your dislike runs deeper than that."

Haldric stared into the crackling flames, gathering his thoughts. It was odd—simply sitting here with Benjin, he could already feel his earlier tension loosening. When the apprentice had first announced his intention to tag along on Haldric's mission to Khordan, Haldric had feared they'd be ready to rip each other's heads off long before they reached their destination. It wasn't as if they had the best track record of getting along from their forced lessons.

But this past week on the road had proven surprisingly pleasant. Away from the palace, it seemed easier somehow to talk without the ever-present strain between them rearing its head. When Benjin wasn't intentionally trying to antagonize him, Haldric found he actually enjoyed the apprentice's company.

"It's no one thing," Haldric began. "It's just how Duke Westley acts. Like…like every word he says is a cruel joke at someone else's expense."

Benjin's expression darkened. "I've met people like that. Usually, I find it's best to avoid them, not attend them at dinner."

Haldric sighed. "I wish I could have ignored him. But the governors are growing ever bolder in their demands for more freedoms, and Westley is the worst of the lot. You should've heard his open contempt for the Crown at the Summit. And then tonight, what he said about Melisie…"

Fresh waves of fury roiled Haldric's gut, his muscles growing taut as he pictured Westley's smug sneer. A hand on his shoulder yanked him back to the present, and he looked up to find Benjin beside him, his pale gray eyes kind.

"Do you want to tell me about her?" Benjin asked.

The question caught Haldric off guard. He couldn't recall the last time he'd spoken to anyone about Melisie. Even mentioning her name to his father left the king racked with grief, and the one time he'd tried to discuss Melisie with his Aunt Janelle, she'd snapped at him to forget the past and focus on the present.

Swallowing, Haldric said, "Melisie was always the responsible one. She took her role as heir very seriously. When we were growing up, she was always impressing our tutors with her dedication while I seized every chance I could to slip away from my lessons and curl up with a good story or magical treatise."

A faint smile hovered on his lips as he recalled those easy days in the palace. They seemed so distant now.

"Did you ever resent her for her position?" Though Benjin had dropped his hand from Haldric's shoulder, he remained close, practically pressed against Haldric's side. Haldric fought down the inexplicable urge to grab his hand.

"No, never. She did everything she could to encourage me. This one time, I begged Melisie to cover for me with our tutors so I could finish the end of my latest book. She did it without batting an eye. Then, later that night, she snuck into my room with notes on everything I'd missed that day and refused to leave until she'd verified that I'd finished every last bit of it."

Benjin chuckled. "Sounds like she had a strong will."

Haldric smiled, fondness flooding him. "She really did." His smile faltered as a crushing weight settled in his chest. "She would've made a great queen. She'd never have let Duke Westley get away with strongarming her…if he'd even dared to try in the first place."

Benjin's light touch sent prickles of heat skittering up his arm. "Forget Westley. He's not worth wasting any more energy on. Don't let him get under your skin."

Haldric expelled a breath. Benjin was right. The duke had probably brought up Melisie to provoke him. Letting Westley affect him played right into the duke's hands. Westley didn't know the first thing about what the people of Ilthabard really needed.

Then again, perhaps he wasn't the only one. Though their caravan had left behind the worst of the protesters in Revesole, more had appeared in every town along their route. Each seemed another sign of Ilthabard's stark decline. And if Haldric's father and the other governors had failed so utterly, could he really hope to do any better?

"What was it like for you growing up?" Haldric asked before he could think better of it.

"You mean after Baroness Simea kicked my mother and me out?" Bitterness colored Benjin's voice. Dropping his hand from Haldric's arm, he picked at his nails. "It was rough, especially at first. We had nowhere to stay and nothing but the clothes on our backs. Things weren't as bad back then as they are now, but they were still tough. We got by begging for work in exchange for a meal and someplace to sleep for the night before moving on. Our luck improved once we reached Revesole. There were more opportunities for work there. My mother found a position as a seamstress while I used my runeflame to perform and picked up whatever odd jobs I could for some extra coins. Then, I heard about the open interviews to become the Grand Magus' apprentice and, well…you know the rest."

Haldric's stomach twisted. By Benjin's soft smile whenever he mentioned his mother, Haldric could tell she meant a great deal to him. The thought of them out there, struggling just to get by for years, left a sour taste in his mouth.

"I'm sorry. It sounds like you had a tough life."

Benjin shrugged. "No tougher than anyone else out there, I suppose. And better than some. At least we never went too hungry for long, and I had my runeflame to fall back on." Benjin's grin seemed forced and a bit too brittle for Haldric's liking. "Besides, now I work in the palace , sending sacks of gallants home to my mother each week while learning magic with a Void-cursed prince."

Their eyes met, and Benjin's expression softened. "Life could definitely be worse."

Benjin's words stayed with him long after they'd said their good nights and retired to their tents…as did the lingering comfort of his touch. Yet as Haldric tossed and turned, struggling to wipe Westley's smug smirk from his mind, it was his aunt's whispered warning to him from just before their departure from the palace that haunted his thoughts.

"Remember what I told you during the Summit, Haldric. Allies are all well and good, but if we put our faith in Khordan, we risk forfeiting our independence. Whatever your father's wishes, you are the one who will soon be king. Don't let yourself become anyone's puppet. It's up to you to preserve Ilthabard's future."

If only he had any Void-cursed clue how to manage that.

Khordan wasn't what Haldric had expected. He'd been briefed before this trip, of course, and his lessons these past couple years had focused heavily on Khordanite politics and customs. As one of Ilthabard's oldest allies, he needed to know as much about the Light-worshiping empire as he could.

Yet, no amount of books or lessons could've prepared him for the heat. Even near the Tholan River along Khordan's western border, the air was stagnant and stifling, the scraggly grass already reminiscent of the desert sands that blanketed the heart of the Khordanite Empire.

It lent the landscape they passed over a barren, repetitive quality that the towns seemed to mimic. Neatly divided streets and cookie-cutter buildings presented an image of persistent order utterly at odds with the more natural sprawl of the typical Ilthabardian village.

Haldric found the sight a touch intimidating. The care given to construction even here along the Empire's outskirts spoke to Khordan's wealth and power, especially in comparison to his own fading kingdom. Ilthabard could barely hold itself together in the present, let alone give heed to the future via careful city design.

At least, the Galax estate wasn't too dissimilar from the Ilthabardian keeps he was used to. Smaller than the palace in Revesole, it still boasted an impressive array of towers and arches, all carved from pristine white marble that glistened in the afternoon sun.

Exiting the carriage, Haldric tried to project an imperious air. The words of his tutors rang in his head. It wouldn't do to show weakness—not when they needed this alliance far more than Lord Galax did.

Benjin followed on his heels. Though the apprentice didn't speak, gratitude filled Haldric for his comforting presence. He was glad he didn't have to face this meeting alone.

A pair of guards met them outside the estate, dressed in resplendent silver plate that Haldric couldn't imagine wearing in this heat.

One of them, a woman with a lean face and braided hair, gave him a shallow bow. "Welcome, Prince Haldric. I hope your journey was a pleasant one."

"It was, thank you." He spied the sunburst on her breastplate marking her a Knight of the Order of the Radiant Dawn and couldn't completely suppress his unease.

Though he'd never personally encountered a Knight, rumors of Khordan's righteous crusaders extended all the way to Revesole. It was said these wielders of dawnflame were the law here in Khordan, where the priests of the Church of Light held almost as much sway as the Forum of noble houses that governed them.

If the woman noticed his unease, she gave no sign, simply nodding and gesturing for them follow.

Straightening his back, Haldric did so, Benjin at his heels. Marshal Fendrel and a pair of royal guards accompanied them while the rest of the soldiers remained behind to tend to their gear. It was the dangers of the road they were here to protect against, not their erstwhile allies. Still, it never hurt to be prudent.

Haldric didn't ask their escort's name as she led them inside, and she didn't give it. It seemed unusual for a lesser noble like Lord Galax to be personally attended by Order Knights. Likely, they were here to ensure Haldric's safety and avoid any diplomatic incidents with Ilthabard.

The Order Knights ushered him and Benjin down several long corridors of white marble into an impressive columned antechamber. There, seated upon a pair of high-backed, gold-inlaid chairs reminiscent of thrones, waited Lord and Lady Galax.

"Hail, Prince Haldric!" Lord Galax called with a broad grin. "So glad you finally made it! How was your trip?"

"Fine, thank you," Haldric replied. "Though I look forward to sleeping in a bed tonight."

Lord Galax gave a boisterous laugh. "Just wait until you're my age, Your Highness—then you'll really appreciate the virtues of a proper mattress."

Haldric chuckled politely. His gaze flitted from Lord Galax to his wife seated beside him. According to his research, she was the true head of the Galax household, her husband content to follow her lead. Whether or not he succeeded here would depend entirely on her.

"Lady Galax," he said with a dutiful bow. "It is an honor to meet you. I thank you and your husband for your generosity in inviting me to visit."

"Of course, Your Highness," she said, her voice soft as silk. "The honor is ours. Our House has ever maintained strong ties with Ilthabard thanks to our shared interest in trade along the Tholan River. We're eager to do whatever we can to further strengthen those ties."

A good sign, Haldric thought, inclining his head. His father had seemed to believe this a done deal, but nothing was ever certain. Perhaps this mission would prove easier than he'd feared.

"My daughter has eagerly anticipated your coming," Lady Galax continued. "She awaits you now in the library, if you feel up to meeting with her."

"Of course," Haldric said, stifling a ruffle of nerves. "It would be my pleasure."

"Good. Then we shall see you and your companions at dinner. In the meantime, please make yourselves at home. Whatever we have to offer, we do so freely."

The Order Knights escorted him and Benjin back into the hall before taking their leave. A servant waited nearby, ready to lead Haldric to the library…and his future wife who awaited him there.

His nerves suddenly flared brighter, his stomach twisting. Until now, the arranged marriage had felt like some nebulous, distant concept he could think about purely in terms of its political implications. But soon he'd come face to face with the stark reality in the flesh.

A hand rested on his arm, and he jerked in surprise, glancing over to see Benjin at his side. The apprentice leaned in, so close that Haldric caught the faint scent of ink from his rune scribing, along with an earthier musk entirely his own.

"Don't worry," Benjin murmured, soft enough the servant wouldn't be able to overhear. "You've no reason to be nervous. Soon enough, you'll be engaged to a beautiful princess of the most powerful Empire in the world. You should be rejoicing, not freaking out."

Bile seared Haldric's chest, along with an odd sort of disappointment he couldn't fully explain. Still, he focused on Benjin's words, drawing strength from the apprentice's confidence in him.

"I'm not certain I'm up for this sort of political maneuvering," he muttered.

Benjin chuckled quietly, his warm gray eyes meeting Haldric's from beneath his sweat-damp curls. "I dunno—you seem perfect to me at bossing people around and putting on airs. Politics should be right up your alley."

Haldric scowled, but Benjin merely smirked, squeezing his arm. "You'll do great, Haldric. I have utter faith in your ability to be charming when you want to be. See you at dinner."

Then, he was gone with his knapsack in hand, likely off to see to his business on behalf of the Grand Magus. Haldric had questioned him more during the trip, curious what Dexil might be up to, but Benjin had claimed to be equally clueless.

Taking a deep breath, Haldric gestured at the servant to lead the way and followed them to a heavy oak door set into the marble wall. The room inside was two stories tall, with a wide balcony overlooking the floor below. Towering shelves lined every wall, filled with all manner of tomes.

Benjin would have a field day in here, he thought before shoving the apprentice from his mind and focusing on the woman seated in a reading chair. She was beautiful, in a homey sort of way. Neither too heavy nor too skinny, she wore a modest gown, its pale-yellow color complimenting her long blonde hair.

"Prince Haldric." She rose and immediately performed a sweeping curtsy. "It's good to finally meet you. I've heard so much about you."

He cleared his throat. "Likewise." Forcing himself to stride forward and take her hand, he kissed the back of it. "Blessings of the Goddess upon you."

"And blessings of the Light upon you," she replied with a small smile.

They stood there awkwardly for a moment, Haldric still gripping her hand, before he finally dropped it and stepped back. All his lessons on Khordanite etiquette fled his rattled mind.

Was he supposed to sit first, or was she? Would it be too forward to ask her about her day? Perhaps he should stick to more benign, less personal topics. Goddess' mercy, he really was terrible at this, no matter what Benjin claimed.

He waited for Lady Katalin to resume her seat before moving to join her, sitting with his back ramrod straight. His gaze fell upon a jug of water next to an empty glass on the table. Recalling something he'd read about Khordanite gentlemen serving the women whenever possible, he jerked forward in his seat.

"Here, allow me."

He reached for the water at the same time as Lady Katalin. Their arms collided, and Haldric watched in horror as the disturbed glass teetered and tipped over, spilling liquid all down Lady Katalin's side. Letting out a startled gasp, she swiped ineffectually at her soaked gown with her hands.

Haldric yearned for a swift death. "I'm so sorry. Here, let me help."

He stepped in closer, though he wasn't entirely certain what he intended to do. Just as he leaned over to pick up the toppled glass from where it had fallen, Lady Katalin tried to stand. Her head collided with his outstretched arm, and she collapsed back in her seat with a muffled whoof.

Haldric stared at her, hardly able to believe how badly he'd messed this first meeting up.

She stared right back, her eyes wide.

He was contemplating fleeing the room with some hasty excuse when she abruptly burst into laughter. "Merciful Light," she said, still chuckling. "I suppose that's one way to break the ice."

"Please, my lady," he said miserably. "Allow me to help you."

"I think you've ‘helped' quite enough for one day, don't you?" Her smile softened the sting of her words, her blue eyes dancing with mirth. "Truth be told, I was nervous I might mess this up. You beating me to it comes as a great relief."

His brows shot up. "Really?"

"Oh, yes. Mother has insisted on the importance of this union for weeks now. House Galax is one of the newer noble houses in Khordan, you see, our wealth built on our trade with Ilthabard and Sanjarka. Should relations between our kingdoms falter, we'll be among the first to suffer. When King Roland reached out to us, Mother was only too eager to accept."

"My circumstances are much the same," he admitted. He paused, considering how much he should confide before deciding there was little he could do at this point to make matters worse. "My father's rule is already tenuous. Once I take the throne, the other governors will likely seize the opportunity for increased freedom, even at the cost of long-term prosperity. Some worry about my mission here, believing it would be tantamount to declaring Ilthabard a Khordanite vassal."

Katalin bit her lip, absently swiping her long hair back behind her ear. "I've heard the same whispered about here. But you needn't worry—though your fertile farmlands would make a tempting prize, most of the Houses are far more concerned about the risk of Nalax expanding into your territories. Helping you preserve order would keep your kingdom as a buffer between us while simultaneously maintaining good relations with Sanjarka, who wouldn't take kindly to any perceived invasions of their neighbor."

Haldric shook his head, feeling out of his depth. "I admit, all this politicking makes my head spin."

"Personally, I enjoy it." Her lips curved in a small grin. "Perhaps we'll make a better match than I expected." A faint blush colored her cheeks. "And I'll admit, you are quite handsome…albeit a touch clumsy."

Haldric mustered a polite smile in response, even as inwardly, he winced. He should be thrilled at how this was progressing. Katalin had taken his many blunders in stride and seemed a perfectly lovely person, both within and without. So then, why did he have this dull ache in his chest? And why, when he regarded her, was it Benjin's smirking face he couldn't shake out of his head?

Katalin stood, smoothing down her sopping dress. "How about a tour of the grounds? The weather's quite nice this time of year—barely hot enough to cook an egg."

Rising, he smiled dutifully even as his gut churned. "It would be my pleasure. Perhaps you can enlighten me further on the political situation here."

"That would be my pleasure." She moved forward to clasp his hand, then stopped and winced when her dress squelched wetly around her feet. Droplets of water splattered over the stone floor. "Though, perhaps a change of attire is in order first. I hope you don't mind if I dress in something more comfortable?"

"Of course not. I'll await your return here."

He watched her go, that sinking pit in his stomach growing. No matter his reservations, however, his duty was clear. Securing this marriage would guarantee Ilthabard's future.

As he looked around the library, his thoughts once again inexplicably turned to Benjin. Hopefully, the apprentice was enjoying his time here more than Haldric was so far.