22. Haldric

twenty-two

Haldric

Haldric didn't relish killing. Despite his frequent battle practices with Fendrel, this was the first time he'd been forced to fight outside a training ground. He knew the lives he'd taken today would haunt his dreams for some time to come.

Yet, as he helped Benjin to his feet, propping the wounded apprentice against his side, he consoled himself with the grim knowledge that it had been necessary. Had he not fought, he and Benjin would both be dead. As it was, it had been a near thing.

After Benjin's summoned quake, Haldric had yearned to go to him, but that soulflame warrior and his goons had recovered too quickly, cutting him off and forcing him to flee around the carriage. Thankfully, he'd managed to make it to Fendrel and the remaining guards in time to rally them.

The soulflame warrior hadn't stood a chance. He'd taken another two guards with him, but in the end, Fendrel had driven the killing blow home himself, his blade moving almost too swiftly for Haldric to track.

Relishing Benjin's comforting weight against his side, Haldric sent a silent prayer to the Goddess. If he'd been even a second or two slower reaching Benjin…

The thought sent a shudder down his back.

Leaving Benjin in the carriage to rest and Marshal Fendrel to tend to the wounded, Haldric returned to the enemy mage's corpse and searched her body. Sure enough, he found what he'd expected: a small charm tinged crimson and imbued with runeflame.

He tossed it in the dirt and stomped on it with his boot, satisfied when he heard it crack apart. He tried to channel runeflame, relieved when it came to him easily.

The mage must've used some manner of blood sorcery to block his access to magic. He shivered at the thought of how they might've obtained the drop of his blood needed to complete the hex. He bled often enough during his training bouts with Fendrel. That meant someone with access to the palace.

Bandits, rebels…or something altogether different?

His mind churning, he checked in with a grim-faced Fendrel near the side of the carriage. "How many?"

"Four dead on our side." The marshal's voice was strained with controlled grief and fury. "Another six wounded. Sixteen slain on theirs, including the two casters. At least two more fled when the battle turned against them. They might return."

Haldric studied the littered bodies. "I doubt it. Not without their mage and warrior to support them. Still, we should make for Revesole with all possible haste. Can your wounded guards ride?"

"Not without fear of tumbling from their saddles. And I'm afraid the cart's not going anywhere anytime soon."

Haldric glanced toward the fallen wagon. The marshal was right—it would need serious repairs to make it road-worthy again. He and Benjin might have been able to manage it with their runeflame if they weren't already both so drained.

Puffing out a breath, he swept a hand through his matted hair as he considered. "What about the carriage? We can put the wounded inside while Benjin and I ride the rest of the way on horseback."

After a moment's hesitation, Fendrel shook his head. "That's a generous offer, Your Highness, but it's too risky to leave you so exposed. Even if that group doesn't try again, others might be tempted if they realize who you are. It's safer for you if we continue on at once with a smaller escort. I'll leave a couple of men with those too wounded to ride. They can repair the wagon and follow after us."

As much as Haldric loathed the thought of leaving anyone behind, he knew the marshal had a point. The longer they lingered, the greater the risk of another attack. "Very well, Marshal. The Grand Magus sent three healing potions for emergencies. Before we depart, we'll give them to the most injured. I'll do my best to mend the rest. I'm no healer, but basic Restorations might ease the worst of their pain until they reach Revesole."

Fendrel saluted. "Thank you, Your Highness. I'll see to gathering the horses and scavenging supplies. We should be ready to depart within the hour."

With his own weary nod, Haldric returned to the carriage and raised himself into it. There was nothing to be done about the shattered door, not when they lacked the runeflame to spare. They'd just have to make do.

Benjin lay across one of the padded benches, his heavy breathing a near pant. Concern ripped through Haldric as he hurried to Benjin's side.

"Are you all right?"

Benjin grimaced up at him with an approximation of a grin. "Never better. Though if you ever have the bright idea to set yourself on fire, I suggest you reconsider."

Haldric's gaze flitted to Benjin's charred chest, and he winced. The burns didn't look life-threatening, but they couldn't be comfortable.

"Hold on." Haldric rummaged through the carriage, searching for the box with Dexil's potions. Once he found it, he held up one of the crimson vials. He tried to hand the potion to Benjin. "Here, take this. It will mend your wounds."

"Are my injuries the worst we suffered?" Benjin asked.

Haldric frowned and reluctantly shook his head.

Benjin closed his eyes, a stubborn set to his face. "Then, I'll manage without."

As much as Haldric wanted to argue, he knew Benjin was right—there were guards outside who could use the healing more. Haldric left to give Fendrel the potions, then returned to Benjin's side.

He raised a hand flickering with runeflame. "At least let me tend to your burns."

Benjin's gaze narrowed. "Aren't you always telling me how dangerous it is to attempt magic untrained?"

Haldric shrugged, his smile tight with worry. "I wouldn't say I'm untrained. Merely…underpracticed."

"Right." Benjin attempted to roll his eyes, then winced. "Well, go on then. I doubt you can make the pain any worse."

Let's hope not, Haldric thought grimly as he got to work.

Sure enough, his Restoration was shoddy at best. While runeflame could accomplish pretty much anything with the proper spell, it was less well-adapted to healing than dawnflame, lifeflame, or even soulflame. Benjin's chest would likely bear scars from his burns forever.

Still, he was able to move again by the time Haldric was done. Benjin shifted to sit up, leaning against the wall near the window.

"Thanks." He gave Haldric a tired grin. "For that, and for earlier. You saved my life back there."

"Just returning the favor," Haldric said softly. They stared at each other for a span of heartbeats before Benjin's weary eyes slid shut with a gentle smile.

Haldric left him to rest and checked in again with Marshal Fendrel, casting Restorations on the remaining wounded one by one. By the time Fendrel had retrieved what supplies they needed and readied them to depart, Haldric felt utterly spent, his runeflame reserve near empty.

He settled in on the bench across from Benjin and studied the apprentice's face, which was peaceful in slumber. Being this close to him again after several days of forced separation was like scratching an irritating itch, offering a balm for an open wound Haldric had been stubbornly ignoring.

He knew they needed to talk—about what had happened at the Galax estate and what would happen next. But that could come later. For now, they both needed sleep more.

Leaning his head back against the wall, Haldric thought of Benjin until unconsciousness claimed him.

Despite the fresh horror of the attack and how close they'd come to perishing, the next couple days of limping back to Revesole almost felt like a return to normal. Benjin rode in the carriage with him again—not that he had much choice with the wagon destroyed—and they resumed their usual training and light banter.

Neither of them brought up what had happened at the Galax estate, though Haldric thought of it often. From the way he'd sometimes catch Benjin's pale eyes intent on him, he suspected the apprentice did as well. Still, as if by some unspoken armistice, they left it alone for now.

Haldric could feel himself growing closer to Benjin again, slipping back into the easy camaraderie they'd found during the trip to Khordan. And while it scared him when he lay awake at night, thinking of Katalin and the king and his responsibility to the crown, all of that seemed more distant than it once had.

Benjin was here. The two of them had survived. And Haldric simply didn't have it in him to go back to avoiding Benjin…regardless of how much he knew he should.

On their last night before reaching Revesole, the two of them sat beside a small campfire. Fendrel had already retired to rest, the watch he'd set up near their camp standing vigilant guard. While there'd been no sign of their ambushers since that initial attack, Fendrel refused to take any chances.

"I've been thinking about the ambush," Haldric said. He poked at the fire with a stick, watching the embers it cast up into the air.

"Oh?" Benjin sounded cautious. Like their shared night at the Galax estate, the attack had also largely remained off-limits for discussion.

"At first, I thought it was bandits," Haldric began. "Then, that soulflame warrior began saying all that stuff about judging me on behalf of the people. Yet, the more I consider it, the less convinced I am that it was rebels either."

Benjin's fingers twitched with runeflame, his Evocation absently stirring the loose embers into a fiery whirlwind. "You saw those protesters in Revesole. They certainly seemed mad enough."

Haldric pictured that boy with the dead eyes who'd watched them pass and shuddered. "Of that, I have no doubt. There are plenty in this kingdom who'd rejoice at my head on a spike. But that attack was too well-planned for your run-of-the-mill rebels. They wielded good steel and armor despite their grubby clothes. Not to mention the soulflame warrior and mage leading them. Even more concerning, they had that charm prepared ahead of time to counter my magic. That kind of blood hex is rare, especially here in Ilthabard, and would have required careful planning to acquire."

"All good points," Benjin conceded. He bit his lip. Still looking uncertain, he ventured, "While I'm sure you'd rather not think about it, this attack's similar to what happened to your sister, isn't it?"

Despite the proximity of the fire, a chill pricked Haldric's skin. "It is. Even the location is almost identical, along the road through Zaros."

He tensed, Duke Westley's threats from the Summit suddenly echoing in his ears. Was it mere coincidence that both he and his sister had been ambushed while traveling through the duke's lands? It had to be. Not even Westley would be that brazen.

Would he?

"With my sister gone, I'm my father's last remaining heir," Haldric said slowly. "If I died as well, the entire kingdom would collapse into in-fighting and disorder. Which is precisely what Duke Westley wants."

A flare of magic jerked Haldric's attention back to the present as Benjin sent the flames soaring higher, his face contorted with anger. The crackle of burning wood and the acrid scent of smoke engulfed them.

"If you think that Void-eater might've had anything to do with the attack, then confront him!" Benjin said. "Put him and the other governors on the spot and see if you can force them to slip up."

Haldric stared into the roaring flames. "I wish I could. But without proof, all that would do is rally additional support behind his cause."

Benjin scowled, looking ready to take the fight to Westley by himself. "There has to be more we can do!"

"There isn't. Truly." Haldric sighed, sorrow gripping him as he thought again of those protesters in Revesole. "Besides, we have enough problems to deal with. Our attackers might not have been real rebels, but their accusations rang true enough."

"Hey, come on." Benjin's hand twitched toward Haldric as though to reach for him, though that might have just been wishful thinking. "You're doing the best you can. There's only so much you can do as prince."

"Perhaps." He bowed his head. "But our best clearly isn't good enough. I can scarcely believe how spectacularly we've failed the people. Whether it's my father's fault or that of the governors, something needs to change."

Haldric paused, considering the wisdom in what he was about to confess. But, well, Benjin had saved his life at least once. And besides, the apprentice already knew enough secrets to destroy him if that were his intent.

"You already know my father desires an alliance with Khordan." Haldric's stomach twisted. "But he's not the only one with schemes for Ilthabard's future."

He explained in more detail what his father had told him about Ilthabard's situation, as well as Duke Westley's thinly veiled threats at the Summit. Then, he confessed his aunt's urging for preemptive civil war.

"I don't know what to do," Haldric concluded, his shoulders slumping. "No matter which way I turn, I seem destined to fail —to prove my inadequacy as a ruler. Ilthabard deserves better than me."

He heard a rustling of cloth, and glanced up, his eyes widening when he saw Benjin sitting down next to him. Their sides brushed, sending heat flaring across Haldric's skin.

"I'm not sure I'm qualified to offer advice on such matters," Benjin said with a wry grin. "Most of the intricacies go right over my head." Haldric's pulse ratcheted up a notch as Benjin rested his hand on Haldric's. "But what I can say is that you need to follow your heart. I know you well enough by now to realize you're not just some spoiled lordling. You genuinely want to do the right thing…which is more than most of the nobility can say."

The words touched something deep inside of Haldric, soothing his tangled doubts. Or perhaps that was simply Benjin's nearness. The gentle clasp of his fingers. The warm press of his side through their cloaks. The soft whoosh of his breath and the welcoming light in his pale gray eyes.

Whatever the cause, Haldric felt what remained of his self-imposed walls crumbling. Sparing a quick glance toward the guards, he gripped Benjin's hand and wrapped him in a one-armed embrace.

"Thank you," he whispered, his voice full of too much emotion to unpack.

Benjin melted in his arm. Returning the embrace, he rested his head against Haldric's shoulder. "I think it's time to retire for the night," he murmured.

"O-of course," Haldric said. Embarrassed heat flushed his neck. Goddess, what had he been thinking, being this forward?

He started to pull away, but Benjin kept his arm tight around Haldric's back, refusing to let him go. "Perhaps you'd care to retire with me," Benjin said. His words danced across Haldric's cheek, followed by a quick nip to his ear that sent a raw pulse of need ricocheting straight to his groin. " Together."

Growling, Haldric hauled a chuckling Benjin to his feet and half-dragged him toward his tent. He was far past caring what the guards saw. Let them gossip among themselves—they were loyal to the Crown, their discretion guaranteed. Though he really hoped they wouldn't mention this to Fendrel in the morning.

The instant the tent flap fell closed, Haldric was on Benjin, tearing at his clothes. Benjin did the same, each of them desperate to expose the bare skin underneath.

This time, it was Benjin who ended up on top, tracing his hands over the firm ridges of Haldric's abs. Haldric squirmed beneath Benjin, delighting in how the motions made Benjin's eyes flare with obvious lust.

"I didn't think this would happen again," Benjin said. Though his tone remained light and playful, Haldric caught a heavier undercurrent beneath.

"Neither did I." Haldric brushed a loose curl off Benjin's face. "But try as I might, I couldn't stay away from you."

Benjin's hands stilled on Haldric's chest. "I…I don't want to be something you regret, Hal. Or for you to do this out of some twisted sense of obligation because of the ambush."

Hal.

Letting the nickname go for now even as it sent a thrill of pleasure through him, Haldric tightened his grip on the side of Benjin's face and pulled him down into a kiss. Their chests brushed together, slick skin rubbing as they shifted. Haldric reveled in each small collision—each little reminder that Benjin was still here in his arms.

"The only regret I have is not doing this sooner," he said as their lips parted. "All that attack did was force me to admit the truth."

"And what's that?" Benjin smirked, arching an eyebrow. "That I'm a more powerful mage than you'll ever be?"

Haldric groaned, playfully swatting Benjin's chest. "No, you fool. That I couldn't bear the thought of a future without you in it."

Benjin's gaze softened, his humor fading until something akin to wonder replaced it. He kissed Haldric again, slower but more passionate than before, as if he sought to imbue every word he couldn't say into that singular press of lips.

Or perhaps that was simply Haldric projecting.

He'd thought himself already lost to bliss. But as Benjin pulled away with a wicked grin and lowered his head between Haldric's legs, Haldric learned the true meaning of the word.

"What is that anyway?" Haldric yawned, bobbing his head toward a wrapped parcel that sat propped against Benjin's satchel. His fingers lightly traced half-formed sigils in the apprentice's back.

Benjin stilled against his side. For a moment, he looked like he was about to say something more. Then, he shrugged. "Just the package I was sent to fetch for the Grand Magus. Nothing important."

Haldric frowned but didn't press. If it mattered, he and Benjin could discuss it once they were back in Revesole. Tonight, all he wanted was to focus on the beautiful man in his arms.

He had just about drifted to sleep when Benjin whispered, "What happens once we return to the palace?"

Haldric took a moment to answer, some of his joy dimming as he told the truth. "I don't know."

Benjin twisted so that they faced each other. His arm wound around Haldric, tugging him even closer. "We could always run away together. Forget about the palace and our duties—all of it. Start a new life together, just you and me."

Though he said it lightly, like it was nothing but a joke, Haldric sensed the thread of seriousness lurking underneath. He forced a strained chuckle, hating how it sounded. "Trust me, Benjin, part of me longs for exactly that. But…"

Benjin burrowed his face into the crook of Haldric's neck, his voice muffled when he spoke. "I know. Ilthabard comes first."

Haldric squeezed Benjin, desperate to hold onto him as long as he could. "Whatever happens, we'll find a way to be together. I promise."

Benjin nodded, though Haldric could sense his lingering tension. He doesn't believe me. But then again, Haldric could hardly blame him. Not when he didn't know whether he believed himself.