Page 108 of The Prince and the Ice King

At nightfall, as they set up camp, Reardon felt exhausted but couldn’t imagine curling up on a bedroll yet to sleep. He sat by a separate fire, asking the others to give him space, so he could study Barclay’s notes.

Something was missing from what they’d experimented on so far, but he couldn’t figure out what. More testing would have led them tothe answer eventually, but Reardon didn’t have that luxury on the road. Hopefully, Master Wells could help him.

“May I join you, my prince?” Lombard came over, prompting Reardon to tuck the parchment away. “I know you requested solitude, but—”

“It’s all right,” Reardon said, smiling as the general sat beside him on the blanket he’d placed before the fire. “I don’t mean to act like a brat and refuse the company of my own soldiers, I just needed time to think. I know I need to sleep.”

“You do, but there is something we need to discuss.” Lombard’s tone drew Reardon’s eyes to his face, the firelight flickering over his handsome features. “I wanted to be sure we had put at least a day’s travel between us and that… place, before I told you the truth.”

“Has something happened?”

“We weren’t sure what to think when you went missing. I sent soldiers to pick up your trail.”

“And I sent one back to explain that I was safe. Why did you not listen?”

Lombard turned to Reardon with greater worry on his face. “My prince, neither soldier ever returned. That is why I followed.”

“But I….” Reardon trailed off, realizing how foolish it was to send a lone man on such a long journey, especially one so young, armed or otherwise. “Something must have happened to him. You’re sure he never made it?”

“Master Wells didn’t report anything. They were meant to see him first upon their return, in case they had been enchanted.”

Then that was a second life Reardon felt on his conscience more than he would ever blame another. “There are highwaymen about, wolves. I should have gone with him.”

“I am glad at least thatyouare safe, but the fate of my soldiers is not all I need to tell you.” Lombard closed his eyes as if greatly pained. “My deepest sympathies, my prince, but your father has fallen ill.”

“What?”

“It seems to be very like what killed your mother, only working slower. We know that’s why the Ice King took you along with the other sacrifice.”

“No, I….” Now Reardon clenched his eyes in pain, because he had set all this in motion. “That is not what happened. I traded places with the sacrifice. I followed you that day and chose to go to the Ice King’scastle. He and his people have nothing to do with whatever is happening to my father.”

“You can’t know that,” Lombard said staunchly. “The Ice King’s power is vast. Has he bewitched your mind—”

“No,” Reardon said again, turning to face his mentor fully. “Bardy, I swear. That castle, that fallen kingdom, is not what you think. I wish I could tell you more….”

“Then tell me. If it is not dark magic cursing your father, then what?”

“I don’t know exactly, but it isn’t magic. It’s alchemy, and I’ve been working on figuring out the exact ingredients. If I can finish a copy of the potion, maybe I can reverse it to save my father and find whoever did this. And who first did it to my mother.”

So often was Lombard the voice of reason trying to pull Reardon back from his musings and the rants he used to throw at his father, but the furrow to his brow was contemplative now, not dismissive. “You’re certain? You’re close to having proof? Some sort of… potion caused it all, even without leaving traces?”

“There is no doubt in my mind. I should have stayed in the Frozen Kingdom.” Reardon lamented the distance between him and the castle now. “I was so close to finishing what I’d started. But I may be able to finish the potion at home, with Master Wells’s help. I must. My father….” He returned to Lombard in trepidation. “How bad is it?”

“He was bedridden when we left, but Wells and the physicians believed he had several more days, if not weeks, before the situation would be dire.”

Reardon sighed in relief. There was time. “Trust me, then, please? When this is over, I will tell you everything.”

Lombard scanned Reardon like he had upon his horse before accepting him as the prince he knew. “You look cared for, well-dressed and well-armed, and you don’t seem as though you’ve been bewitched. Yes, my prince, I will trust you, but you must know that no matter the truth, you are treading dangerous territory.”

“I know, but if I’m right—about a number of things—it will be worth it.”

Trusting in Reardon as he always had, Lombard nodded. “I’m glad you are well,” he said again and rested one of his cool bare hands atop Reardon’s between them, far more intimate than Reardon could ever remember him allowing before.

The contact made heat rush to Reardon’s cheeks, his heart beating rapidly despite himself, unable to deny the pull Lombard had always had on him. “I-I’m glad you’re well too,” he stammered.

Their eyes met, and in the firelight, with so much darkness around them, Lombard’s face and golden hair looked almost… white.

He pulled his hand from Reardon’s and stood, like he hadn’t meant to be so uncouth. “Sleep, my prince,” Lombard said, leaving Reardon with guilt stirring unbidden in his stomach. “If we ride hard tomorrow, we’ll reach Emerald before nightfall.”

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