30. Haldric

thirty

Haldric

"Behind you!" Haldric shouted. He raised his free hand, but before he could muster a spell, Benjin had already spun and unleashed a blast of force that sent the pair of rebels sneaking up on him flying backward.

Haldric lowered his hand and focused back on his own duel, allowing himself a brief smile at the burst of pride that warmed his chest. Benjin certainly had a knack for Evocations. Even without proper mastery or technique, he could conjure blasts of force quicker than any mage Haldric had ever seen.

Easily parrying an unpracticed sword swing from a woman barely older than he was, Haldric dodged another rebel's overenthusiastic thrust and swiped his sword low. An icy Evocation leaked from his enchanted blade, freezing both rebels' feet to the stone floor.

A tinge of regret pierced him as they flailed and cried out, struggling to free themselves. These people were no trained fighters. Most of the rebels he and Benjin had encountered had clearly never even handled a weapon before. They were simply people down on their luck, desperate for any promise of change.

And Dexil gave them that.

Shoving down his hesitation, Haldric dropped both of them with clean strikes, doing his best to make them nonlethal. If the treacherous Grand Magus could be bothered to minimize casualties, then Void take Haldric if he didn't do the same.

His skirmish finished, Haldric turned back to Benjin and found the apprentice rising from the unconscious bodies of the other attackers.

Benjin flashed him a weary grin. "All clear."

Haldric gave the corridor a quick scan and nodded. The hallway was secured—though how long that would last, he couldn't say.

This was the fourth rebel patrol they'd encountered since they'd left the dungeons. And while they'd made quick work of them thanks to their restored magic and the element of surprise, exhaustion was beginning to weigh on Haldric. From Benjin's drooping eyes and shoulders, Haldric could tell he felt the same.

It had been a grueling few hours. Regaining his lost memories, his father's death, Dexil's betrayal, his reunion with Benjin…all of it rattled around Haldric's skull, threatening to drag him down and overwhelm him.

But he couldn't let it. There'd be time enough to sort through today's events and try to make sense of it all later. For now, he had Benjin at his side and a battle to win. That was more than enough to keep him going.

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.

"King Haldric," 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.

An image of another boy collapsing in a bloody heap before his aunt's axes flickered before his eyes, and Haldric swallowed down sudden bile. "Wait."

Fendrel and Benjin both turned to him, their expressions surprised.

"Your Majesty?" Fendrel asked. "We shouldn't delay. The longer we wait to attack, the more time we give them to bolster their position."

Haldric took a deep breath. His gaze still on the rebels, he shook his head. "Enough blood has been spilled today on the Grand Magus' account. I won't add any more—not if there's another way." He turned to Fendrel, squaring his shoulders as sudden certainty filled him. "Marshal, order your men to prepare to accept prisoners. I'm going to offer them a chance to surrender in exchange for leniency."

Fendrel's eyes widened. "Your Majesty, I must strongly protest. These traitors don't deserve your mercy. They attacked the palace, threatened your life and the lives of my men."

"After initially attempting to spare them by removing them from the fight," Haldric countered. He raised a hand to forestall Fendrel's rebuttal. "I understand your reservations, Marshal, and I am not excusing their violence." He met Benjin's pale gaze, bolstered by the quiet support he found there. "However, I am also not excusing the part I and the rest of the nobility played in driving the people to such desperation that they'd follow someone like Dexil in his misguided coup. Let this mercy be the first small step toward reconciliation."

His lips tightening, Fendrel gave a reluctant nod. "As you command, Your Majesty."

Haldric relished the comforting hand Benjin rested on his back as he stepped forward and shouted down the corridor, "This is your king speaking! We have retaken the rest of the palace. I will give you this one chance to surrender. Drop your weapons, and I swear that your lives will be spared."

A chaotic murmur of voices erupted after his pronouncement. He held his breath while he waited, willing the rebels to see reason. As if sensing his anxiety, Benjin stepped closer, letting Haldric lean into his warmth.

Eventually, a woman's voice shouted back, "We're no fools! Honeyed words don't change the facts. We both know how this ends."

"I told you, Your Majesty," Fendrel murmured, hefting his sword and shield shimmering with soulflame. "It's no use attempting to reason with them."

Haldric gritted his teeth, helpless anger flooding him. So much pain, so much death, and for what? For one man's flawed vision of Ilthabard's future?

It can't end like this—I refuse.

"Whether you like it not, your coup has failed, the rest of your comrades captured or killed! You can either take your chances with this suicidal last stand…or you can trust me at my word and walk out of here alive. It's your call."

Silence answered him. Haldric's heart fell. So much for surrender.

"It's all right, Hal." Benjin clasped Haldric's hand and squeezed. "You gave them a chance. It's not your fault if they refuse to take it."

Haldric knew Benjin was right. Still, he couldn't help but feel as if he'd failed some crucial test. He turned to Fendrel, preparing to give the order to attack, when a sudden clatter reverberated from the nearby hall.

Benjin sucked in a breath. "They're…they're throwing down their weapons!"

Haldric whirled, hope flaring in his chest when he confirmed it with his own eyes. His gaze fastened on the boy at the far end just in time to see the sword drop from his shaking fingers to join the others discarded on the stone tiles.

Fighting a triumphant grin, Haldric gestured to the stunned marshal. "Have your men begin rounding up the prisoners."

Fendrel managed a shaky salute. "At once, Your Majesty."

Haldric watched with Benjin at his side as the royal guards moved forward. The battle hadn't been without casualties, and Haldric suspected today's scars would linger for quite some time. Yet, the worst of it was over. They had won.

The week following the failed coup and King Roland's death passed in a chaotic blur. For his treason against the kingdom and suspected murder of the king, Grand Magus Dexil was sentenced to execution.

Benjin refused to attend, claiming that no matter what Dexil might've done, he couldn't bring himself to watch. Haldric wished he had the same privilege. His initial hatred for the Grand Magus had since dulled to numbness. All he wanted now was to forget about this nightmare and put it behind him.

As the new king, however, he had little choice but to attend.

Watching the man he'd looked up to his entire life, who in many ways had been like an uncle to him, march across the courtyard in chains and have his head fitted into a slab of wood brought him nothing but sorrow.

"Any last words?" Haldric asked, straining to keep his face a composed mask.

Dexil's violet eyes were as bright as ever when he twisted his head to regard Haldric. "I tried to help the people of Ilthabard. I failed. Promise me you won't repeat the mistakes of the past—that you will put your people first."

Haldric knew he didn't owe the Grand Magus anything. The man had betrayed him, almost killed him. Even so, he found his heart heavy as he whispered, "I swear to you that I will do all in my power to make a difference—to make things better for all of Ilthabard. But I will do it the right way, not through bloodshed."

Dexil offered him a sad smile. "I pray to the Goddess you will be the king that Ilthabard needs." His violet eyes slid shut, a serene expression stealing over his face. "Goodbye, my boy."

Wetness pricked Haldric's eyes as he stepped back, motioning for the executioner to proceed. No matter how misguided Dexil had been, the Grand Magus hadn't been truly evil. He'd thought he was doing what was right. Haldric tried to remember that as he forced himself to watch the headsman's ax fall. It was a brutal but necessary reminder that good intentions did not always equate to good deeds.

Other than the execution, his days became a whirlwind of meetings and attendants and hurried decisions. With his health as it had been, much had been allowed to slide during King Roland's final days. Now, it seemed like everyone in the palace and beyond wished to speak with Haldric, desperate for him to decide one thing or another. Everywhere Haldric went, a swarm of advisers followed like a flock of carrion birds, each wanting to peck off another little piece of him.

Thoughts of the kingdom's myriad problems occupied his waking moments and bled into his restless nights. Though they'd halted Dexil's rebellion before it could serve as a rallying beacon for more dissenters to rise up across the other provinces, there were still plenty of unhappy people in need of support. Haldric had immediately ordered the guards to distribute what aid they could, but it was a drop in the bucket. If nothing more permanent was done to alleviate the people's suffering, it was only a matter of time before Ilthabard faced another crisis.

Then there were the governors. An emergency Summit of the Provincial Council had already been called, set for the following week. Ostensibly, it was so that the governors could pay their respects to the late king and pledge their fealty to Haldric.

But he knew it wouldn't be that simple. Duke Westley's threats remained fresh in his mind…along with his aunt's suggestions on how best to manage them. The time would soon come when he'd need to make his choice.

He wanted so badly to be a good king. To begin correcting the mistakes of the past while assuaging Ilthabard's current woes. Yet, there was another part of him that longed to hide in his quarters with Benjin for the rest of his life. That desperately missed the joyous days they'd spent in their tiny cottage with no concerns except for his garden and what to cook for breakfast.

He'd barely seen Benjin since the attack. It was torture not spending time with him now that their memories had been restored, but with everything he had to deal with in the aftermath of the failed coup and his father's death, he'd barely had a spare moment to himself to think.

As much as his heart yearned for Benjin, he saw no good way to hold true to his promise to be together. Despite everything, he remained betrothed to Lady Katalin, and though Katalin had made it clear she viewed the marriage as little more than a business arrangement, he could hardly commit to Benjin when things were still so uncertain. He'd already betrayed Benjin's trust in the past. Even if Benjin had forgiven him for it, he had no intention of doing so again.

Such doubts churned through Haldric's mind as he exited yet another meeting, this one over arrangements for his father's funeral. The event had been set to coincide with the Summit so that the governors could attend as well.

Discussing his father's death like a political opportunity had left Haldric on edge, and he stifled a groan when he found a servant waiting for him outside.

"Yes, what is it?"

"A guest, Your Majesty," the servant said with a deep bow. "Lady Katalin of House Galax of Khordan."

Surprise gripped Haldric, his pulse quickening as his stomach dropped. Their arranged marriage was about the last thing he wished to consider at the moment. Then, he thought of his father and marshaled his resolve. What he wanted was of little consequence. Fostering an alliance with Khordan was more crucial now than ever.

"Please, see her to our finest guest suite closest to mine. Once she is settled, have her escorted to my quarters. I will meet with her there."

The servant bowed and hurried off. Haldric was supposed to speak now with a batch of Sanjarkan merchants from Derimay about renewing a trade agreement, but it could wait. Instead, he charted a course back to his rooms. Once there, he took a few minutes to freshen up, combing and rebinding his hair with a leather tie and switching to a clean set of clothes.

Checking his reflection in a mirror, he grimaced at the heavy golden circlet that sat upon his brow. It looked so out of place to him, as if he were a child playing dress-up. In a way, he supposed that's exactly what he was.

A soft knock came at his door. He tried to settle his nerves, smoothing down the front of his coat as he squared his shoulders and adopted his most regal stance. It would not do to display any weakness that might make Katalin doubt whether their arrangement remained worthwhile.

He opened the door with a stiff smile and even stiffer bow. "Lady Katalin. It is an honor to see you, though I admit, I was not expecting your presence today."

"King Haldric," she said with what seemed like a genuine grin. The expression helped set him partially at ease. "It's good to see you again. I apologize for the lack of warning. I set off for Ilthabard as soon as I heard. My mother sent a missive, but I imagine things have been somewhat chaotic here as of late."

Haldric muffled a grimace as he thought of the mountain of paperwork and letters piled up in his study. He'd done his best to sort through the most critical, but Lady Galax's must've slipped through the cracks. "Indeed, but we're managing. Would you care to come in?"

He moved to step back from the doorway, pausing when Katalin shook her head. "Actually, I was thinking we might go for a walk. After sitting cooped up in a carriage for the better part of a week, I could do with some exercise." She offered him her arm and a wink. "Care to repay the favor and show me around your home this time?"

His smile grew more genuine as he took her proffered arm. "Of course. Come with me."

He led her through the halls, pointing out different rooms and his favorite paintings as they passed. After the stress and horrors of the past week, it was strangely cathartic to view the palace as a place of beauty rather than tragedy.

"I'm so sorry about your father," Katalin said after a time, squeezing his arm. Her voice trembled with sympathy. "I wasn't certain whether I should mention it—no doubt you've had your fill of condolences by now. I can't imagine how hard all of this has been."

Her genuine concern sent sorrow rippling down his back. With everything else going on, he'd barely had time to stop and grieve.

"Thank you," he said, squeezing her arm in return. "Even knowing his time was short, it came as a great shock. And then this incident with the rebels…" He cleared his throat, afraid he'd said too much. He didn't want to give her second thoughts about their alliance. "Though of course, they pose no real threat to Ilthabard. We have the situation well in hand."

He snuck a glance at Katalin to gauge her reaction, relieved when she simply nodded. Belatedly, he wondered if he should tell her of his lost memories and the Grand Magus' curse. What if she wondered about his absence these past few months?

Yet, that would require informing her of his time spent with Benjin, and that seemed a topic better left unspoken.

Instead, they chatted about silly little things. Katalin shared more stories of her rambunctious youth and discussed the latest doings in Luxem, though by her own admission, that mostly amounted to ‘tedious trade deals.'

Haldric found himself relaxing as the afternoon wore on, much as he had the first time he'd found himself in Katalin's presence. She had a certain warmth about her, a way of putting him at ease. Perhaps…perhaps it wouldn't be so hard, learning to care for her someday.

That day might be sooner than I think, he realized with a sinking sensation. Now that his father had passed, the pressure would be on him to marry and secure an heir. After his father's funeral, talk would no doubt turn to a royal wedding. Perhaps that was the true reason for Katalin's visit.

"I'm afraid we don't keep a garden like the one you have in Luxem," he said as he led her out into the palace's central courtyard. "This is the closest we have."

"Some stunning masonry and carpentry," she remarked, gazing about at the palace's exterior and the other buildings nestled along the courtyard's edges. "I noticed that when I arrived. Though, forgive me, it is a bit plainer than what I'm used to. You Ilthabardians do so value your efficiency."

He chuckled. "That we do. We leave the embellishments to you and the Sanjarkans. Come, let me show you around."

They were passing by the stables when a figure appeared in the entrance. Haldric glanced over and almost lost his footing when he realized it was Benjin, dressed in his usual disheveled robes. He appeared to be in the middle of an errand, a stack of parcels clutched under one arm. With the Grand Magus gone, it had fallen to Benjin to complete his remaining duties as best he could.

When Benjin noticed Haldric, he froze, his pale eyes widening. Then, he spotted Katalin, and his face went blank as he bowed, his curls bouncing. "King Haldric. Lady Katalin. A pleasure to see you again."

"You as well, Benjin," Katalin said, sounding delighted as she clasped his hand. "It's good to see another familiar face. We should set aside some time soon to catch up—lunch tomorrow perhaps?"

"You'll be staying for a while then?" Benjin asked, a hint of tension underlying his words.

Haldric shifted beside Katalin as she grinned. "At least a couple days until after the Summit and I've finalized things with King Haldric."

Haldric's gut squirmed. Benjin managed a feeble grin, though his lips were pinched like he'd tasted something sour. His eyes darted to Haldric before looking away. He had yet to meet Haldric's eyes since the conversation began.

"Lunch sounds great," Benjin said. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have business to attend to. Enjoy your romantic rendezvous."

He hurried off, his back hunched and shoulders tensed. Haldric watched him depart, longing to follow. When he realized he was staring, he turned back to Katalin and pasted on a smile. "Well then, shall we continue?"

She studied him for an uncomfortably long moment, then shrugged and returned his smile, taking his arm once more. "Of course! Lead on, Your Majesty."

They spent the rest of the afternoon together before dining on a simple meal set for the two of them. Though Haldric tried to enjoy himself and Katalin's company, his dread grew with each passing moment. Soon enough, they were back in Haldric's sitting room, and he could no longer put off discussing their future.

"So," Haldric began, his throat suddenly dry. "I suppose we should talk about why you're here. Allow me to begin by assuring you that my father's passing has no bearing on our arrangement. I fully intend to honor our union."

Katalin took a sip of water from a tall glass. "I assumed as much. Still, I'm glad to hear it. Mother would've been unbearable had her carefully laid schemes to ensnare you fallen through."

Haldric chuckled dutifully. The edge of his crown bit uncomfortably into his brow. "Yes, well, good. Shall we discuss the specific, er, details then?"

"Of course." Katalin slid aside her glass and steepled her fingers. "First, however, I have a question for you."

He inclined his head. "I shall do my best to answer."

"Splendid." A hint of a smile played over her lips. "Just how long have you been in love with Benjin?"

Haldric stared at her, stunned into silence. She simply watched him, her expression kind. He knew he'd already taken far too long to stammer a response, but he tried anyway. "I-I'm not certain what you mean, my lady. Benjin is a trusted friend, nothing more."

"Forgive me my bluntness, Your Majesty, but you are a terrible liar."

He winced, expecting her to sound angry or betrayed. If anything, however, she seemed amused, her eyes dancing with mirth. Had she wanted their arrangement to fail? Or perhaps she relished this proof of Haldric's weakness.

"I suspected during your visit to Luxem," Katalin continued, studying his reaction. "But after seeing you together today and how you studiously avoided looking at each other despite clearly being aware of nothing else, I'm all but certain."

Haldric's stomach sank, his protests dying on his lips. Panic unfurled in him like a billowing sail in a storm. "Whatever you think you saw, my lady, I beg you to forget it. I'm committed to this alliance between our houses, and I'll do whatever it takes to make it work."

Katalin fixed him with a sympathetic look. Her hand stretched across the table, her cool fingers resting atop his. "It's all right, Haldric. I may not fully understand the burden of ruling an entire kingdom, but I do know something about political pressure. If you truly wish to marry me, I remain willing. But, first, ask yourself: is this really what you want?"

Haldric hung his head for a long moment. Doubts and hopes and fears played out in his head, each echoing in a dozen different voices. Then, clenching his jaw, he straightened his back and met her gaze.

"It doesn't matter what I want. I have to do what's best for Ilthabard. Now more than ever, we need stability. If this is the best means to achieve that, then I'll do it gladly."

Katalin squeezed his hand. "There is no weight greater and more terrible, no chains tighter and more constraining, than those of duty." Withdrawing her hand, she sat back in her chair. "Still, permit me to offer you some advice. For all that others might mean well, it ultimately falls to you and you alone to chart the course you think is best. So…again I ask, what is it you want?"

He surprised himself by chuckling. The rough sound quickly devolved into a half-sob, half-snort. There, alone with the woman he was supposed to wed, he confessed the truth aloud for the first time.

"I want him. I want Benjin."

Again, he braced himself for her rage. For her to accuse him of betrayal and declare their arrangement off. Yet once again, all she did was offer him a gentle smile full of compassion, even if it was also laced with a hint of disappointment.

"There. That's one issue solved. Now, tell me about whatever other political woes you face. After all, marriage isn't the only way to forge an alliance, and I have my fair share of training in courtly intrigue. Perhaps I can help you decide on the proper course."

Haldric studied her carefully. When he was sure her interest was sincere, he took a deep breath and haltingly began to speak. Starting with the death of his sister, he went on to discuss Ilthabard's current situation, from the unhappy commonfolk to the greedy governors.

He kept the details light at first, cautious of revealing anything too compromising to a foreign dignitary. The occasional leading comment from Katalin, however, made it clear that she already knew much about Ilthabard's woes. No doubt Khordan had been monitoring the situation closely.

The more he opened up, the more his thoughts whirled. His rushed remedial lessons in politics had left little opportunity for him to think critically about Ilthabard's situation. All this time, he'd remained focused on debating between the paths others tried to choose for him: his father, his aunt, Duke Westley, even Grand Magus Dexil. Yet as he spoke and Katalin listened, asking discerning questions and discussing how things were done in Khordan, the seeds of a new path entirely his own began to take root…