2. Haldric #3
It was Dexil who answered. “As the one responsible for casting the curse, his presence is required to break it.”
Haldric resisted the urge to defend Benjin again. What was the point when his words would fall on deaf ears? Instead, he posed another question.
“Why are you so certain this is the work of a curse?”
Dexil bowed his head, but not before Haldric caught his pained grimace.
“Because you were once my pupil, Prince Haldric…as was Benjin. Before your disappearance, he was like a son to me. Yet, I cannot deny the evidence before my eyes. A stolen ritual scroll, a vanished prince, my apprentice’s unusual behavior…
No, I have no doubt that Benjin is to blame. ”
“Nor do I.” Janelle’s hands twitched on the table as though longing to reach once more for her axes. “The boy is guilty—of that we can be certain. And once my soldiers capture him, we’ll be able to restore your lost memories and hear his confession for ourselves.”
“There must be another explanation.” The walls pressed in tighter around him. He shoved away the faint tendrils of uncertainty beginning to thread through him. “I know Benjin as well as I know myself, and while he can be brash and impulsive, he would never do anything to hurt me.”
Janelle looked ready to argue, but Dexil held up a hand to forestall her, peering closely at Haldric.
“Tell me, Your Highness, have you felt anything since coming here to the keep? A sense of déjà vu perhaps, or a faint tickle of recognition, like you’ve seen something before only to have forgotten? ”
Haldric’s breath caught in his throat. The edges of his vision darkened as the room swam before his vision. He forced a shaky nod.
“I thought as much.” Dexil gave him a kind smile. “It’s nothing to be afraid of, my boy. It is a symptom of the curse—a sign that your latent memories are fighting to reassert themselves and recover your lost truth.”
Memories flashed before his eyes from that morning. The warm glint in Benjin’s pale gray eyes when he looked at Haldric. The safe comfort of his arms wrapped around Haldric’s back. The familiar taste of his breath on Haldric’s lips.
Those events were real—they’d happened. But the love undergirding them, tying them all together, that couldn’t be fake…could it?
Haldric gave a desperate shake of his head, though he wasn’t certain if it was Dexil or himself he was denying. “Benjin is my truth. you say, I know that to my core. Even if you’re right, even if I really am who you say I am, he’s as much a victim in all this as I am!”
“I truly wish that were so, Your Highness,” Dexil sighed. “But deep down, we both know it’s not.”
“Enough,” Janelle said. “This conversation is going in circles.” She strode to the door and rapped on it, then turned to Haldric. “Some rest will do you good, nephew. We’ll discuss this more in the morning.”
Footsteps echoed outside. A moment later, the door creaked open to reveal Fendrel standing at attention. “Yes, Your Grace?”
Janelle gestured at Haldric. “Please escort Prince Haldric to the rooms we’ve prepared for him…and make sure that he stays there.”
Fendrel snapped a salute. “Of course, Your Grace.”
Haldric quickly gauged the distance to the door and how many guards likely remained stationed outside. The answer was too many. Even then, he might’ve attempted it if not for the Grand Magus’ presence. Another mage lowered his chances of escape from slim to nonexistent.
Janelle rested a gauntleted hand on his shoulder as he walked past her. He stiffened at the touch. “Everything will work out for the best, Haldric. You’ll see. Soon enough, you’ll be right back where you belong.”
His stomach churned as he followed Fendrel silently down the hall to a nearby door flanked by a pair of guards. The thought of leaving Gerald’s Spring and his life here behind filled him with a sick dread.
At least Benjin is safe…for now.
Fendrel ushered him inside and locked the door behind him. Though not as lavishly appointed as Janelle’s chambers, it was still far bigger and more luxurious than the bedroom in the tiny cottage he’d shared with Benjin.
Still, he’d have given anything to be back there again, safe in Benjin’s arms.
He went straight to the bed, though sleep was the furthest thing from his mind. Wrapping his arms tight about his chest, he curled up atop the sheets, his mind reeling.
It was difficult enough to believe he might be some cursed prince, no matter what the duchess and Grand Magus claimed. But to accept that Benjin of all people was the one who’d cursed him? It was absurd. Haldric refused to believe the love of his life was some evil warlock toying with his mind.
As the minutes dragged into hours, Haldric’s thoughts turning sluggish as they spun around and around in circles, he found his heart aching for Benjin.
anyone else said, Haldric would hold out hope as long as he could.
Benjin would never do anything to hurt or betray him—he had to believe that. He had to.
I miss you, Benjin, he thought as he finally drifted to sleep, hating the part of him that wondered if that emotion, too, was nothing but a lie.