8. Haldric #2
Triumph gripped Haldric at Benjin’s furious scowl. It morphed to shame, however, when his father’s rumbling voice filled the chamber.
“Come now, Haldric, there’s no need to be rude. I’m certain Dexil knew what he was doing when he selected his new apprentice. Give the boy a chance to settle in. It must be difficult to adjust to life in the palace. Isn’t that right, Benjin?”
Fixing Haldric with a final brief glare, Benjin faced the king’s bed and bowed. “Yes, Your Majesty. It’s, um, quite the adjustment. Forgive me if I’ve given any offense.”
Haldric bit his tongue while his father smiled at the insufferable brat. “None taken, lad. Now then, why don’t you and your master finish your work so that my son and I can eat before I grow too weary.”
Haldric crossed his arms and tried not to scowl as he watched Benjin assist the Grand Magus. He knew he should probably apologize for his behavior, but Benjin’s taunts had burrowed under his skin.
Besides, it was obvious the boy didn’t have the slightest idea what he was doing.
Dexil had to constantly stop his ministrations to explain each minute aspect of the potion he was administrating well enough for Benjin to replicate the simple process.
Haldric had to resist the urge to step in and do it himself.
It would’ve taken a quarter of the time.
Eventually, Benjin bumbled his way through.
Channeling a final burst of runeflame into the prepared liquid, Dexil gave it a quick stir before proffering it to the king.
From past experience, Haldric knew it contained an enchanted elixir to ease the king’s pain and help him sleep.
That was about the best anyone seemed able to offer his father these days.
Which is why it’s so important I excel at my studies.
Straightening his back and keeping his shoulders rigid, Haldric adopted the mask of cool indifference he’d been practicing—the face of a stalwart ruler. Still, he couldn’t help his soft wince at his father’s hacking cough when he downed the potion.
With a bow to Haldric, Dexil swept out of the chamber, an amused twinkle in his violet eyes. Benjin followed after, much more subdued. Haldric could feel the boy’s gaze on him once more but refused to give him the satisfaction of looking. Let Benjin realize how inconsequential his jabs were.
With Dexil and Benjin departed, King Roland called for his servants to bring in dinner.
Haldric assumed his usual place by his father’s bedside, thanking the servant who set a platter of bread and hearty meat stew before him.
Stews and soups had become his father’s favored meals—easier on his digestion.
“So, how are your studies going?” the king asked, slurping up a spoonful of soup. Haldric pretended not to notice the bits of it that dribbled onto the front of his pajamas. “Fendrel tells me you’re a natural at the blade.”
Though part of Haldric basked at the praise, a deeper part of him knew he didn’t deserve it. “The marshal honors me, but I fear he exaggerates my potential.”
“Nonsense!” The king crunched into a hearty bite of bread. “Fighting runs in your veins, Haldric, even if you never wanted to accept it.”
Haldric chose not to reply, sipping a spoonful of his stew.
They ate in silence for a few minutes, Haldric lost in his own thoughts. He startled, banishing a vision of judging gray eyes, when the king abruptly spoke.
“The Provincial Council meets in a few weeks.”
Haldric’s gut churned. Every year, the governors of Ilthabard’s six provinces gathered at the palace to negotiate treaties, discuss trade policies, and engage in political maneuvering.
His sister’s death had still been fresh enough last year, his own role as heir so new, that Haldric had been excused from participating. This year would be different.
“I look forward to attending at your side.”
The king took another bite of bread dripping with stew. “Not just at my side—in my stead.”
Shock gripped him. This was the first his father had mentioned such a thing. “What? I’m sorry, Father, but I don’t think I’m ready for that.”
His father snorted humorlessly. “You most certainly aren’t. Other than your aunt, the governors are a nest of vipers. No doubt they’ll attempt to take advantage of your inexperience for their own personal gain.”
“Then why send me to them? Surely, Grand Magus Dexil could assume some of the responsibilities this year on your behalf. Or Aunt Janelle.”
The king’s rumbling sigh rustled his blankets. “Both of them will be there to advise you, as will I. But it must be you that takes the lead.”
“But—”
“It’s the only way you’ll learn.” The king’s impatient tone urged Haldric to silence. He sagged back in bed as if the words had taken a lot out of him. Haldric started to rise to check on him, but his father waved him away. “By the Goddess, I’m fine. Or at least, as fine as I can be.”
“Sorry.” Haldric bowed his head. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
The king issued another heavy sigh. “I understand your reluctance, Haldric, but I won’t be here forever. We must do all we can to secure your position before I die and the other governors descend like carrion birds tearing into a carcass.”
Grimacing at the macabre image, Haldric shoved aside his half-eaten stew. “Ilthabard has survived for a thousand years and will stand for hundreds more.”
“I hope so.” His father chewed thoughtfully, his gaze growing distant.
“Yet, our kingdom is not as strong as it once was. The Akkadia has been gone for centuries, along with the soulflame warriors that once graced our ranks, and the governors seize ever more power for themselves while chafing at centralized rule. It’s only a matter of time before the Nalaxians to our west renew their conquests.
In our current state, we would make a tempting target. ”
King Roland’s grizzled face grew more stern, his emerald gaze intense as it fixed on Haldric.
“While I’ve done all I can during my reign to keep the peace and hold this crumbling kingdom together, it’s clear now that more is required…
which is why I’ve arranged for you to marry a princess from Khordan. ”
Haldric jerked in surprise. Had he not already set aside his platter, he would’ve spilled stew all over his lap. “Marry? A princess?”
His father nodded, remaining calm in the face of Haldric’s dismay. “I know it’s not ideal—”
“That’s an understatement,” Haldric scoffed. “Would you really sell your only son to the highest bidder?”
The king’s expression tightened, his eyes flashing.
“Watch your tone, Haldric. I may be an ailing old man, but I am still your father and your king. The Khordanite Empire has ever been our staunchest ally. With the Nalaxians nipping at our heels, strengthening our eastern alliance is the surest way to guarantee our survival. It will solidify your power against the other governors who’d seek to take advantage of you while ensuring Khordan’s continued aid and protection. ”
“But wouldn’t we just be trading one overlord for another?”
His father briefly closed his eyes, his face suddenly exhausted. Haldric had never seen his father look older than he did at that moment. “I’m sure many of the other governors would say so. But better the overly righteous paladins of Khordan than the brutal Nalaxian necromancers.”
Haldric’s chest squeezed. As if he didn’t have enough to deal with. As if he hadn’t already sacrificed everything for the sake of his position. Now, he was expected to give up his heart as well?
As if sensing the train of Haldric’s thoughts, his father’s stern visage softened.
“I know this isn’t how you expected your life to go, Son.
Believe me, I wish I didn’t have to place you in such a difficult position.
But such is the burden of rule. To lead requires making tough choices and sacrifices.
You will come to understand that more once you’re older. ”
Haldric wanted to protest that he understood now, but he held his tongue, allowing his father’s words to wash over him.
“At least agree to go and meet the girl,” King Roland continued. “If not for love, then perhaps you can still reach a suitable accord. Please, Haldric. All I want before I die is to be certain of your future.”
He reached out a trembling hand, and Haldric took it, swallowing down the lump in his throat. The skin was clammy to the touch, almost icy. His father’s grip felt far too weak, barely reminiscent of the great warrior who’d once commanded the battlefield from horseback, sword held aloft.
“I promise.”
The king relaxed back into his bed. His hand grew limp in Haldric’s as his eyes half-closed. “Your sister…would be so proud…” he murmured, barely audible.
Something constricted in Haldric’s chest. He briefly tightened his grip on his father’s hand, willing him to say more. But all that came out was a loud snore. Such was the way with Dexil’s nightly elixirs, the sleepiness often overtaking his father out of nowhere.
Letting King Roland’s hand fall gently to the blankets, Haldric rose and strode from the chamber, leaving his snoring father behind. He nodded stiffly at the servants and chirurgeons as he passed. Seized by a sudden, desperate urge to escape, he hurried down the hall toward his own quarters.
To his father, all this planning and preparing might be about securing Haldric’s future. Yet, if this was truly about seizing control, then why did Haldric feel more lost than ever?