Page 65 of The Prince and His Stolen Throne

“You are,” she replied with a flash of sharp teeth.

“Oh, yes, I am …” He wasn’t sure if he’d forgotten making that promise to her, or if she was simply lying to defuse the situation.

“No, of course not,” Brendon assured them. “They’ve gone to the Grimnight Forest to break the curse.”

“We need whatever information you can spare about the Lord of Grimnight—” Rick trailed off as Cyril burst into laughter. It lasted for a solid minute.

“I take it you’re familiar with him,” Brendon said.

Even Lucinda struggled to suppress her giggles. She pressed her hand to her lips, her eyes sparkling. “Oh, we’re bothveryfamiliar with”—the giggles won, and she could barely speak—“His Grimness.”

Cyril wiped tears from his eyes, his breath short as he said, “We both apprenticed under my old master. Brutus failed to earn a title while we were studying together, then one day showed up claiming to be the Lord of Grimnight.”

“Stealing titles isn’t uncommon,” Lucinda explained. “But it was such aquietaffair—no bloodshed or showmanship—that his claim has become a joke in the community.”

“I haven’t seen him in years.” Cyril’s gaze grew distant with thoughts of the past. “Not that I’m complaining.”

Rick pursed his lips. “He might no longer be the failure you imagine.”

“True,” Cyril admitted, “He’s certainly had time to improve. However, any son ofyourswould easily outmatch him. You would make a far better evil mage than Brutus, even without formal training.” The highest compliment he could offer a non-professional.

“Our main concern isn’t the lord himself,” Brendon explained. “It’s his apprentice.”

“Apprentice?” Cyril howled in outrage. “What do you meanhehas an apprentice?” In all his years as an evil mage, Cyril had never found the right person to become his apprentice. By the time he began looking in earnest, all the good ones had been snatched up. He’d offered the role to Rick once, but he’d chosen to stay in the Desolated Lands with Brendon. Yes, they were happy together, but it was a waste of evil talent.

Lucinda gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. “That’s right! I remember now.”

“What?” Rick asked, tensing in anticipation. He grabbed his husband’s hand for support.

“It was five or six years ago.” She shook Cyril’s arm to jog the memory loose. “That young man you all fought over.”

Cyril’s brow furrowed, then smoothed. “Oh yes. Came looking for a master and showed enough raw talent that he started a damnbidding war. Then he had thegallto choose Brutus. He had such horrible taste, I forgot all about him.”

“I didn’t,” Lucinda said with a beaming smile. “He was a pretty little thing, hair as white as snow and eyes as black as night, and a name to match: Wilde.”

They had a name, but it wasn’t enough. They needed a way to neutralize the apprentice without interfering with the children’s quest.

“Cyril, how would you encourage an apprentice to betray their master?” Rick asked.

Cyril looked at him with pure admiration, wishing once again that the prince had pursued a life of evil. “You make him a better offer.”

Chapter Nineteen

After Wilde joined us, the walk through the forest was almost pleasant. No ghost wolves, no random bug encounters, no traps triggered. I didn’t know if his presence kept the monsters away, or if it was a coincidence. The others noticed too, sending him curious looks occasionally.

“Did you cast a protection spell on us?” Delilah asked, skipping next to him.

“No.” He kept his answer short and simple.

“Then do you think the forest is afraid of you?”

His lips quirked. “Why would it be afraid?”

“Well, the curse comes from an evil mage, and you’re a good mage, and good always triumphs over evil, so naturally it would be afraid, wouldn’t it?”

I choked on her logic, coughing in shock. It might work that way in storybooks, but in the real world, evil often won. Evil mages earned titlesbecausethey’d triumphed. Sometimes they were defeated later, but a lot of people lost in the meantime.

Not that the forces of good were always altruistic. Countless wars had been fought with ‘good intentions’, and it was usually people in the middle—neither good nor evil—who paid the biggest price.