Page 116 of The Prince and the Ice King

“Ahhhhh!” Reardon broke off his howl through clenched teeth. He’d call for the guards, but voices didn’t carry well through these walls, and he didn’t know if he could trust anyone.

Lurching up into a sitting position took much out of him, but he eventually got up, and moved with tears in his eyes the entire way, until he collapsed at his father’s side upon the bed.

“F-Father…?”

Henry did indeed appear to be in a fever dream, looking far worse than Reardon had seen earlier. The right transmutation for their final version of the potion was fire. Reardon would have come to that conclusion himself, but what made it undetectable? Conflicting transmutation would simply cause the potion to evaporate right away, which wouldn’t give it enough time to have any effect.

Sea of white.

Sea of white….

Wraith’s teeth!

Ice.

“Of course,” Reardon said, taking his father’s clammy hand in his, much as that movement and any utterance of words made him wince.

Other opposing elements would have a similar effect, but only ice could work latently, melting over time. Once everything mixed in thevictim’s bloodstream, it would eventually cancel out and vanish like vapor. In Henry’s case, Lombard must have been poisoning him slowly, with very little of the potion each time, to hide his tracks.

There was a cup beside Henry’s bed, and Reardon knocked it to the floor with a pained cry. Lombard might have poured more down Henry’s throat before he left. Reardon’s father may only have hours. Minutes. And now Reardon knew how to save him but had no way to make the cure.

Lombard must have enchanted the Fairy Queen to not speak of what kept her and her people behind a veil, but she’d tried to say all she could. She’d told Reardon to trust… something. Obviously not Lombard.

To trust something that Jack hadn’t….

Himself.

Reardon had to trust in himself as future king. Lombard didn’t think he could handle so much pain to be a threat, and oh, it did hurt, but Reardon had to act. He had to. He had to save his father and hurry on to save Jack.

Rising with a whimper, Reardon looked to where Master Wells and the physicians had been trying out possible cures. A handful of healing potion variants and herbs lay on a table. It wasn’t enough to make the potion Reardon needed or the subsequent cure, but it might be enough for something else.

Looking to his father once more, Reardon forced quiet words to pass his lips, “I love you… and I will defeat our enemy and prove my love for Jack is worthy.”

Jack

Jack had gathered his court in the throne room, as well as his best advisors—Barclay, Caitlin, Nigel, Shayla, and Oliver. There was little time, and the humans in their midst shivered to be so near Jack without having taken resistance draughts.

“None of us believe the Emerald Prince would betray us, but we know a traitor lives in his kingdom,” Jack declared. “Many of you have worked on the potion to prove it. If his presence returning home has not changed Barclay’s vision of a dire future, then that means Reardon is the one who has been betrayed. We must expect an army and a battle ahead that we might not win.”

“What should we do?” Josie asked, golden before Jack, and while she was always lovely, he kept picturing her true form, now that he’d finally had the honor of seeing it again.

He longed for her to be like that always. His friends too.

“Everything we can,” Jack said. “Prepare the people. Fortify the castle. Have lookouts at all times and keep our fortune-teller on hand to keep telling fortunes.” Jack looked to Barclay with reverent respect, who tensed nervously but nodded. “If the future begins to change, we must know immediately.”

“If they’re turning right around with reinforcements,” Oliver said, “we can expect Emerald troops within two days.”

Not everyone in the room was a fighter, but each person’s expression hardened as Jack gave the final order: “Then be ready.”

Reardon

Reardon burst out of his father’s room, and the pain was so blinding, he feared he would collapse, but he refused to lose faith.

“My prince!” a guard cried, taking hold of him. “What have you done?”

“General Lombard warned you were unstable,” another said.

“But tostabyourself—”

---