30. Haldric #2
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.”