6. Haldric

six

Haldric

It was a surreal experience to walk through the elaborate suite of rooms Duchess Janelle had told him used to be his quarters in the palace. Any one of the half-dozen chambers could have fit his and Benjin's entire cottage within it. He had far more tables and chairs and sofas than he knew what to do with, not to mention heaps of unfamiliar clothes, a luxurious soaking tub, and a bed so massive he feared he might lose himself in it.

Flopping onto the plush mattress after his visit to see Benjin in the dungeons, a wave of homesickness washed over him. Goddess' mercy, how he longed for his simple life near Gerald's Spring, where his biggest concern most days had been coaxing Benjin out of bed or thwarting wild animals from ravaging his garden.

His life there had been perfect…even if it had all been some elaborate lie.

Exhaling a deep breath, he forced himself to rise, firming his shoulders and straightening his back. He would not spend any more time sitting here feeling sorry for himself. There'd been quite enough of that the past few days during the trip to Revesole and his arrival at the palace.

Tomorrow morning, Grand Magus Dexil would perform the ritual to undo the alleged curse, and Haldric would finally have the answers he craved. All he could do tonight was try to relax.

The tub seemed a good enough way to take his mind off things. He considered asking the guards to have someone bring water, but if he'd ever been used to such a thing, he certainly wasn't now. The thought of forcing anyone out of bed to come wait on him left him unsettled.

Instead, he drew upon his runeflame, relishing the buzz of magic along his fingertips. A simple Conjuration filled the tub with water while an Alteration heated it until wisps of steam curled from its surface.

He probably shouldn't waste his strength on such frivolous things when Goddess only knew what tomorrow might bring. But as he sank into the near-scalding liquid, he let out a contented sigh. If his lack of restraint cost him, it would have been well worth it.

Undoing the cord binding his long black hair, he set about washing off the grime from travel. As he scrubbed himself clean, an image of Benjin's dirty, forlorn form flashed before his eyes, and fresh guilt soured his gut.

While Haldric was here enjoying the lap of luxury, Benjin was suffering in some cell, all but convicted of a crime he had no recollection of committing. Staring into his familiar pale eyes tonight, Haldric was certain of at least that much. If Benjin really had cursed him, it was a different Benjin than the one he loved.

That was a small comfort though. Guilty or not, Benjin was suffering, and Haldric's inaction had put him there. He'd betrayed the person he loved the most.

The person you think you love the most, an insidious voice whispered in the back of his mind. He dunked his head beneath the water, intensifying his scrubbing. If only he could wash away his thoughts and doubts as easily as the grime from the past few days of travel. Tomorrow couldn't come soon enough.

Once he'd finished in the tub, he channeled more runeflame to clear away the used water and dressed himself in the simplest set of nightclothes he could find. Back in Gerald's Spring, the soft cloth likely would've fetched enough silver sestas to feed Benjin and him for a month or more.

Putting out the torches and candles lighting the room with a gust of wind, he settled into bed, doing his best to cast Benjin from his mind. Sleep proved slow to come, and when it finally did, it was plagued by half-remembered nightmares and forgotten memories, the two nearly indistinguishable.

Haldric awoke the next morning to insistent rapping on his door. "I'm awake, I'm awake!" he called irritably, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and stumbling out of bed.

"Glad to hear it," his aunt's gruff voice called through the closed door. "Make yourself decent. It's time."

Apprehension curled through Haldric, his pulse quickening as he grabbed the first set of clothes he could find. He went to tug on the awful blue dress tunic, then thought better of it and scoured his room for something a bit less garish.

Dressed in a respectable leather jerkin embossed with an acceptable level of swirling filigree, he emerged into the hall to find Janelle there along with Marshal Fendrel and a fresh set of guards he didn't recognize.

During the trip north to Revesole, he'd learned that Fendrel was the head of the palace guard. He seemed to have taken the prince's disappearance as a personal failing. Now that Haldric was back, the stern man rarely let him out of his sight.

"Is all this really necessary?" Haldric gestured to Fendrel and the guards. "Surely, I'm safe now here in the palace, and I believe I've proven by now that I'm not going to run."

"You are the prince and royal heir, not some backwater farmer," Janelle said. "There are those who might see advantage in harming you. And given your father's…condition…"

She stopped, trailing off. Haldric glanced at her, curious even as the mention of his father spiked his already frayed nerves. He dreaded meeting his parents and had been grateful the king hadn't summoned him the instant he arrived yesterday.

"Condition?" he asked.

Janelle pressed her lips together, refusing to answer. Both her and Grand Magus Dexil had been tightlipped during their return to the palace, fearful of overwhelming him before he regained his full memories. Haldric let it drop, focusing instead on the space around him.

He hadn't experienced much of the palace yet beyond his own quarters and the dungeons, but what he had seen put Baron Simmons' rural keep to shame. Though the Ilthabardian aesthetic was far more austere than the gold and marble preferred by the Khordanite nobles to the east or the colorful silks and intricately carved woods of the Sanjarkan merchants to the south, the simple stone adorned with banners depicting famous warriors and ancient battles possessed its own harsh beauty. Like Ilthabard itself, function generally ruled over fashion…his garish blue dress tunic notwithstanding.

"What will happen once we get there?" he asked.

They passed a tapestry depicting a man wielding two shields shimmering with pale soulflame fending off what looked like an entire army on his own. Such scenes were a relic of Ilthabard's glory days, when the martial schools of the Akkadia still trained new generations of soulflame warriors to defend the kingdom. But that had been centuries ago. Little remained of the Akkadia now except rubble and myth—just another symbol of Ilthabard's decline.

Janelle glanced at him, a notch appearing in her brow. "We've been over this. Dexil will perform the ritual to restore your lost memories so we can put this whole nasty business behind us."

"What will the ritual be like?"

"Honestly, Haldric, I have no idea. I'm not a mage like you or Dexil. My expertise lies in strategy and battle, not arcane rituals." Her annoyance softened when she glanced over and caught him chewing on his lip. "Though Dexil assures me it will be perfectly harmless."

Harmless was a far cry from painless, and somehow Haldric doubted that regaining a lifetime's worth of altered memories would be as simple as snapping your fingers. Still, he kept his doubts to himself.

"And what about after?" he asked, giving voice to his other growing source of concern. "What happens once our memories are restored?"

His aunt appeared taken aback by the question. "Well," she said after a lengthy pause. "I suppose you return to living your life."

She shared a glance with Fendrel that seemed laced with hidden meaning, though Haldric couldn't decipher what. Clearly, there was something—likely multiple somethings—that they weren't telling him about his former life as a prince. Yet again, he decided not to press. He was nervous enough as it was. His princely duties could wait until after he'd regained his memories.

"And Benjin?"

At the mention of his husband's name, Janelle's expression hardened. "If he's innocent, he'll be released. If not, he will stand trial for his crimes."

Haldric swallowed the heavy lump in his throat. He could guess what the likely punishment for cursing and kidnapping a prince would be. Whatever Benjin may or may not have done, Haldric had no intention of letting that happen.

I got us into this, Benjin, and I swear to the Goddess, I'll get us both out of it.

They passed a pair of royal guards dressed in more ornate armor than the others he'd seen, their gold and silver accents complementing the usual golden trim. Frowning, he glanced about the unfamiliar corridor. This section of the palace looked better suited for hosting nobles than performing magical rituals.

"Is this where the ritual's supposed to take place?" he asked.

"We have one quick stop to make first." Janelle's fingers twitched as though they yearned to grip her axes, a tell Haldric had come to associate with her feeling nervous. "Your father wishes to speak with you beforehand."

Haldric jerked to a halt in the middle of the hall. The rest of his escort halted a few paces further ahead. "You mean the king?"

"Very good," she said dryly. "I see you studied up on what it means to be an Ilthabardian prince during the carriage ride." When he still didn't move, she sighed. "There's nothing to be nervous about, Haldric. He knows your memories haven't returned yet. All he wants is to see that you're safe."

Her reassurances did little to soothe his churning stomach. Don't panic , he told himself when they reached a wide set of doors embossed with the royal seal and flanked by more guards. Inside stretched a long sitting room filled with a mix of guards and other attendants. Marshal Fendrel moved off to the side with the rest of their escort to wait as Janelle ushered Haldric through the room to a smaller door at its far end.

Then, there was no more time to think as they stepped into the king's private bedchamber. Curtains had been drawn over the windows to block most of the morning light. The cloying scent of incense and recent magic hung in the air. Several chirurgeons bearing trays of healing charms hovered beside a massive bed draped in crimson silk with a figure propped up in it.

Just like in my vision, Haldric recalled past his nerves, thinking of the hand he'd seen reaching for him. Unsure what else to do, he dropped to one knee and bowed his head. "Your Majesty. Um, it's me. Haldric."

"My son…" The rumbling voice from the bed sent a thrill of déjà vu skittering over him. "Go! Leave us."

Haldric blinked, momentarily confused until he saw the chirurgeons bowing and retreating from the bed. One by one, they funneled past Haldric out the door. Pale soulflame infused at least one, the white glow winking out as he exited. Janelle gave Haldric a supportive nod, then followed them out. She shut the door behind her, leaving Haldric alone with the king.

My father…

"Come," the king said. "Let me see your face."

Haldric rose uncertainly and shuffled forward until he stood where the chirurgeons had been. The man lying in bed looked less regal than Haldric had expected. His body appeared surprisingly frail given his booming voice. His lined face was pale and drawn, his skin sallow. Haldric didn't need to be a healer to tell that the king was not well.

Still, his bright green eyes, so much like Haldric's own, regarded him keenly. For a long moment, neither of them spoke.

"You look good," the king said. "When I heard you'd spent the past few months on a farm, I worried you'd return a starving husk of your former self."

To Haldric's shock, the king's face grew heavy with emotion. He stretched out a trembling hand. Not knowing what else to do, Haldric clasped it, the skin cool and clammy to the touch.

"My boy…" the king whispered, clutching weakly at Haldric's hand. "My beautiful boy… Thank the Goddess you've come back to us unharmed."

Feeling horribly awkward, Haldric managed a nod. It was surreal to know he was speaking to the king of an entire nation, let alone see him act so emotional. Haldric felt guilty for not being more affected himself, but it was hard when he barely recognized this man beyond the faintest stirring of memory.

Thankfully, it didn't take long for the king to recover. He let his hand drop to his silken sheets as his face grew more stern. "Your return comes none too soon. As you can see, I have little time left to me, and this nonsense has already wasted far too much of it. We must ensure nothing else happens to ruin your ascension to the throne."

He seemed to expect something of Haldric. Haldric cleared his throat, searching for anything to say. "They…they tell me that the ritual to restore my memories is to take place soon."

"Thank the Goddess for Dexil—I don't know what I'd do without him. Soon, you'll be yourself again. And that traitorous commoner who dared to kidnap you will learn the price of threatening the crown prince."

"We don't know for certain how Benjin was involved," Haldric protested. "He may be as much a victim here as I am."

The king snorted. "Unlikely. Regardless, what matters most is that you're all right. There is much to do once you've regained your memories, starting with solidifying our alliance to Khordan."

"Alliance? I hadn't heard anything about that in Gerald's Spring."

"Well, of course not." The king shifted atop his blankets, clumsily adjusting the pile of pillows he sat propped against. "The details still need to be ironed out, but you'd been assisting me with it prior to your disappearance. I only hope this debacle hasn't soured Lord Galax on the engagement."

Haldric blinked, certain he must have misheard or misunderstood. "What sort of engagement?"

Chagrin flashed across the king's drawn face. "Ah, forgive me, Son. I hadn't meant to bring up such things until after the ritual. We can discuss it more once you've recovered."

Haldric knew he should probably take the hint and let it go, but something in the king's expression compelled him to push. "Please, Your Majesty, tell me what you mean. I want to know."

King Roland studied him for a span of breaths before letting out a rattling sigh. "Very well. Prior to your disappearance, you were engaged to marry Lord Galax's eldest daughter, Lady Katalin."

The room spun around Haldric. He wasn't sure if he wanted to laugh or to weep. As if everything between him and Benjin wasn't already muddled enough, now he apparently had a secret fiancée to contend with as well?

Some of his distress must've shown on his face because the king reached for him, patting his hand. "Don't fret, Haldric. You can handle this. You're strong." He managed a feeble grin. "Just like your father once was. Obey Janelle and Dexil's counsel, and you'll be fine. As soon as the ritual's complete, come visit me, and we'll—"

A sudden cough racked the king's frail frame. His grip on Haldric's hand tightened as he doubled over, wheezing for breath. Fear choked Haldric when he saw the spray of blood left on the king's sheets.

"Someone, help!" he cried.

Guards burst through the door in an instant, trailed closely by the chirurgeons. The pale white glow of soulflame soon suffused the darkened room, shining like shimmering moonlight.

A strong grip fastened around Haldric's forearm, and he startled until he realized it was Janelle guiding him from the chamber. She shut the door behind them, cutting off the king's hacking cough.

"Is he going to be okay?" Haldric demanded. His frightened gaze flicked from Janelle to the door and back.

Worry creased Janelle's brow. "For now, yes. Dexil's potions have done wonders to slow the king's sickness, and the healers do what they can to bolster his flesh. But there are some ailments not even magic can fix."

"What's wrong with him?"

"We don't know—even the dawnflame priests we sent for from Khordan couldn't determine for certain, though they suspect he picked up some form of voidflame affliction during a long-ago expedition to the Void Peaks along our southern border. Whatever the cause, the reality is that your father is old and sick. He…he does not have much time left in the Mortal Realm."

For a moment, she looked close to tears, her face that of a sister afraid of losing her beloved brother. Then, she clenched her jaw and became the grizzled warrior once again. "Which is why it's all the more important we get your memories restored as soon as we can. Come!"

He followed without complaint as she led him out of the royal chambers toward the palace's western tower, struggling to process everything he'd learned. A father he didn't remember who was near death? A betrothed princess from a distant empire he was supposed to marry? It all seemed like so much—too overwhelming for him to handle.

Focus on the here and now, he chided himself as they walked. He took a deep, calming breath. You can't do anything about the rest of it right now anyway.

As they reached another sealed door, this one glistening with silver sigils Haldric recognized as various Protection glyphs, it occurred to him there wasn't much he could do about the curse either. There, too, his fate lay entirely out of his hands.

Fendrel and the guards remained in the hall while Janelle followed him into the hollowed-out interior of the turret. Shelves crowded with all manner of books and esoteric ingredients lined the walls, stretching from the floor all the way to the ceiling some forty paces above. Equipment that tugged at Haldric's memories had been shoved aside to clear the center of the room, where a large ritual circle glowed with azure runeflame.

He tried to trace the spellwork involved and quickly gave up. He might be more experienced than Benjin, but this level of magic was far beyond him. Still, something about the pattern of runes etched in the ground tugged at his memory. He couldn't shake the feeling that he'd seen something like it before.

For a brief instant, fragments of his recurring nightmares flickered before his eyes, revealing a vision of Benjin standing amid a raging storm of magic. Haldric sucked in a sharp breath. This was where it had happened—he was all but certain of it. This was the spot where he'd fallen under the curse.

From beside him, his aunt's concerned voice resounded as if from a great distance. "Haldric? Are you all right?"

He realized then that he'd stopped moving. Blinking back to the present, he shook his head to clear it and offered her a wan smile. "I'm fine. Just a little on edge."

She studied the runic circle with narrowed eyes. "I don't blame you. Powerful magic like this always unnerves me as well." Haldric stumbled and almost fell as she clapped him on the back. "But there's no need to worry. It will all be over soon."

That's precisely what I'm afraid of.

Two spaces had been marked on opposite ends of the circle, each containing a chair surrounded by a smaller circle of runes linked to the larger one that spanned the room. Haldric approached the nearest chair and eyed it, wondering whether he should sit.

Before he could decide, the door behind them opened again. Grand Magus Dexil entered first, resplendent as ever in a midnight blue robe embroidered with silver stars. Benjin followed closely at his heels.

Haldric's heart lurched at the resigned expression on Benjin's face. Heavy manacles shackled his hands and feet together, glowing with temporary wards against magic. To add insult to injury, a gag covered his mouth.

The sudden urge to grip his face and kiss him properly overcame Haldric, the impulse so powerful he took a step toward Benjin before his aunt caught his arm in an iron grip. Ignoring the look Janelle leveled at him, he clenched his hands into fists, watching as Dexil helped Benjin into the other seat.

As much as Haldric longed to hold Benjin and reassure him that everything would be okay, he couldn't—not when he didn't know if it would be a lie. Instead, he settled for calling out, "Whatever happens, I love you, Benjin."

Benjin's only response was a wavering smile that faded all too quickly.

"Good, you're already here," Dexil said to Haldric. He rubbed his hands together, his purple eyes glinting. Perhaps he was eager for the opportunity to work such an unusual spell. He gestured to the chair in front of Haldric. "Go on, Your Highness. Take a seat, and we'll get started."

His stomach churning with nerves, Haldric did as commanded. He wasn't certain if it was only his imagination, but he swore a faint jolt of electricity coursed over his backside when he sat.

"Before I begin, allow me to explain what you should expect." Dexil regarded both him and Benjin as he took up position in the center of the larger circle. "While the ritual itself should only take an hour or so to complete, for you, it will feel like far longer. The magic requires that you relive your most recent and poignant memories before the curse affected you. While I've never experienced such a thing myself, I'm told it can be rather…overwhelming."

Janelle scowled at the mage. "Can't you restore their memories bit by bit to ease them into it? The less risk there is to my nephew's wellbeing, the better."

The Grand Magus shook his head. "If only it were that simple. But this sort of magic can be finicky. Since a single spell suppressed their memories, a single spell must be used to restore them. Anything else risks causing irreversible damage to their minds."

Still looking dissatisfied, Janelle grunted in response. She shuffled to stand along the edge of the room well away from the runic circle while Dexil raised his arms. Runeflame spiraled along his fingertips.

He glanced at Benjin. "Ready?" When Benjin nodded, Dexil turned his attention to Haldric. "Ready, Your Highness?"

Swallowing his fear, Haldric took a deep breath. Gripping the arms of his chair as if for dear life, he looked across the room at Benjin and said, "Ready."

"Then, let us begin."

Haldric resisted the urge to bolt from his chair as Dexil's fingers danced through the air, leaving lingering runes traced in their wake. An accompanying incantation rose from the mage's lips, soft at first but growing louder and louder until the words of power boomed throughout the chamber.

The smaller circle etched in the floor around Haldric flared to life, columns of runeflame spiraling upward until they nearly blocked his view. Across the room, he saw that Benjin's circle had undergone the same transformation.

Their gazes locked. In Benjin's pale gray eyes, Haldric saw fear and hope along with a certain weary resignation.

He believes he's guilty, Haldric realized. He's accepted it as a foregone conclusion. Even as his chest constricted, Haldric refused to turn away. Let Benjin be the last thing he saw, their love the foremost thing on his mind.

He didn't know if they'd both still feel the same once they awoke or if the love between them would fade away like a forgotten dream. But as the Grand Magus' magic erupted throughout the chamber and engulfed both of them, he prayed the connection they shared proved real enough to endure.

And then, all at once, he remembered everything .