23. Benjin
twenty-three
Benjin
The moment they arrived at the palace, Benjin could tell something was wrong.
The courtyard was a beehive of activity.
Royal guards and servants rushed about with a franticness Benjin had only seen during the Summit.
Then, however, there’d been an undercurrent of excitement and anticipation.
This time, there was only a dull, ominous sense of dread.
“What do you think’s going on?” he asked Haldric.
Haldric stared out the window, his face as grim as those of the servants. “I don’t know.” Benjin’s heart fluttered when Haldric briefly squeezed his hand. “Whatever it is, we’ll deal with it. Together.”
Benjin nodded, relaxing at the prince’s reassurance. Last night had felt different from their first together at the Galax estate—less rushed and more tender. This time, there’d been no spur-of-the-moment decisions. They’d both known exactly what it meant.
Of course, it also helped that Haldric hadn’t fled the instant the sun rose. Even if he had insisted on slipping out early after waking Benjin with a good morning kiss.
Palace guards swarmed them the instant their carriage came to a halt. “Your Highness,” one of them said, her voice brisk. “You must come with us at once.”
Haldric’s courtly mask slipped into place, his shoulders squaring. “What is this about, Captain?”
The guard’s gaze flicked to Benjin. “I’m not at liberty to say, Your Highness. I’m to bring you straight to the king’s quarters. Duchess Janelle’s orders.”
Haldric paled. “My father. Is he—?”
“I don’t know, Your Highness.” A hint of sympathy bled into the guard’s expression. “Please, come with me. The duchess will explain more.”
Haldric nodded, allowing the guards to lead him from the carriage. Benjin hesitated on the bench, uncertain whether to follow until Haldric glanced back at him, his green eyes pleading.
Benjin snagged his satchel with the Grand Magus’ parcel and hurried to follow the prince. That earned him a few sideways glances from the guards, but no one stopped him. Prince Haldric visibly relaxed once he spotted Benjin, shooting him a grateful smile.
They passed Marshal Fendrel and the other soldiers, who appeared to be receiving their own debriefing.
Fendrel glanced at Benjin as he passed and gave him a nod.
Benjin nodded back, pride warming his chest. Apparently, fighting together in defense of the prince had finally earned him the marshal’s respect.
Haldric’s obvious tension grew as they navigated the palace corridors toward the king’s chambers. By the time they reached the entryway and found it abuzz with activity, Haldric’s back was so stiff that Benjin worried it might snap.
He longed to reach out and grip Haldric’s hand, to whisper words of comfort, but he didn’t dare—not with so many eyes on them.
Haldric could make whatever promises he wanted in the comfort of night and each other’s arms, but Benjin wasn’t a fool.
Whatever future they might find together could never be official or in the open thanks to his arrangement with House Galax.
The thought wormed a hole in Benjin’s belly, but he shoved it aside. He could worry about that later. Right now, he had to be here for Haldric.
Amid the activity, Benjin spied the Grand Magus speaking with a pair of chirurgeons. Haldric seemed frozen in place, so Benjin placed a hand on his back and gently steered him in that direction. The Grand Magus glanced over as they approached, appearing unsurprised to see them together.
“Ah, good, you’ve arrived. I’m afraid we’ll have to postpone discussing your trip. As you can see, things have been somewhat hectic here.”
“My father,” Haldric croaked. “Is he…?”
Benjin poofed out a breath when Dexil smiled.
“Alive, thank the Goddess. But he gave us quite the scare when a servant found him collapsed in his sitting room.” A hint of sadness crept into his smile.
He rested a comforting hand on Haldric’s shoulder.
“I’m afraid his condition has worsened, Your Highness. ”
“But…but the healers,” Haldric protested. His fingers worked uselessly at his tunic, as though longing to grip a sword or cast a spell. “Your potions! Surely, something can be done.”
The Grand Magus heaved a sigh. “We all knew this day would come, my boy. The corruption within him has run its course. There’s little else magic can do now except ease his pain.”
Haldric’s mouth worked open and shut, his expression lost. Benjin’s urge to wrap him in a hug was nearly irresistible.
“How long?” the prince finally asked.
“I wish I could say, Your Highness. Weeks, months…it’s impossible to predict. Such is the nature of the Void.”
“Thank you,” Haldric said. Unease gripped Benjin at the stiffness in his voice. Faced with his grief, he must be retreating beneath his veneer of formality. “You’ve ever been a loyal servant to my father, Dexil. And a trusted teacher to me. I won’t forget that.”
The Grand Magus’ violet eyes were pools of sorrow as he embraced the prince. Haldric didn’t return the gesture beyond an awkward pat on the back.
“Of course, Your Highness,” Dexil said. “I shall always endeavor to do what is best, for both you and Ilthabard.”
A fresh commotion rose across the room as the doors leading to the king’s bed chamber opened, revealing an exhausted-looking Duchess Janelle. Her hair was a matted mess, her armor dull.
“Where is he?” she demanded, peering about the chamber. “Is he here yet?” Her gaze settled on Haldric. “Ah, there you are!”
Benjin watched warily as she strode over. When she spied Benjin, her steps slowed, her eyes narrowing. “This is no time for a barely trained apprentice to be underfoot. Don’t you have other duties to attend to elsewhere?”
Before Benjin could muster a reply, Haldric stepped between them, his voice cold. “He’s here at my request, Aunt. I want him here.”
Benjin’s heart swelled. Though the duchess hardly seemed pleased, she jerked a nod. “In that case, both of you come. The king is awake and wishes to speak with you.”
Trepidation gripped Benjin as he followed Haldric and the duchess into the king’s chambers.
King Roland lay much as he had the other times Benjin had accompanied Dexil here to tend to him.
What little energy he’d possessed, however, had vanished.
His emerald eyes, so much like his son’s, were dull and distant, his face gaunter than before.
It was a challenge for him to even turn his head to look at them.
When he saw Haldric, he managed a faint smile, his distant gaze sharpening. “My son. You have returned from Khordan. Tell me, was your trip successful?”
“It was,” Haldric replied. He slid a nearby chair over to sit beside the bed, taking his father’s limp hand in his own. “Though not without its difficulties. I’ll tell you all about it if you’d like.”
“Very much so.” The king’s gaze flickered over to where Janelle and Benjin still stood by the doorway. A slight frown twisted his lips. “I wish some time alone with my son. Leave us and see that we are not disturbed before I’m done.”
Janelle bowed. “Of course, Your Majesty. Come along, you,” she barked to Benjin, ushering him out of the chamber.
He snuck a final glance at Haldric, hoping to convey what comfort he could, but the prince’s attention remained focused on his father. While Benjin understood, that didn’t stop a tiny piece of his heart from breaking at his inability to help.
Then, they were outside, Janelle shutting the doors behind them. Releasing Benjin, she seemed to forget about his existence entirely, striding forward and barking orders at the guards and servants.
Taking that as a dismissal, Benjin shuffled to the edge of the chamber where he’d be out of the way. Should he wait here for Haldric or return to his own quarters? What would the prince want him to do?
A hand on his shoulder startled him, and he looked up to find the Grand Magus there, wearing a serious expression. “Come with me. We have much to discuss.”
They walked quickly, Dexil setting a brisk pace. Once they were in his tower study, he sealed the door with a simple ward, then turned to Benjin, his voice eager.
“Tell me, how did your trip go? Were you able to speak with Percival and retrieve the package?”
Benjin settled a protective hand on his satchel, his gaze narrowing as he studied the Grand Magus.
So much had happened since the attack that he hadn’t had much time to dwell on the parcel’s contents.
Still, he had his suspicions. He hadn’t quite dared confide them in Haldric—not until he had the chance to confront the Grand Magus himself.
Now, that moment had finally arrived.
“I did,” he said, watching Dexil’s expression carefully. “However, we ran into some trouble on the road. A group of people claiming to be rebels attacked us and almost killed the prince.”
If the Grand Magus had known about the attack, he did an admirable job masking it behind a veneer of shock. “By the Void! Thank the Goddess you’re both all right.”
“Indeed,” Benjin said with feigned casualness. “It was very fortunate. Especially since they seemed to know precisely where to find us. They even had a hex prepared with the prince’s blood to block his magic.”
Dexil’s keen eyes studied Benjin. “Hold on. You’re not suggesting I had anything to do with this, are you?”
Benjin shuffled nervously but refused to back down. “You haven’t exactly been subtle about your political leanings. Haldric suspects one of the governors, but I can’t help but wonder if they really were rebels—ones with a powerful ally.”
The Grand Magus offered a derisive snort. “Preposterous! Why would I send my apprentice all that way to fetch something for me, only to orchestrate an elaborate ambush on the return trip? Have I ever given you any reason to believe I wish you harm?”
Some of Benjin’s determination faltered. “Well…no. But they seemed surprised to find another mage there. Perhaps you intended to spare me.”