Page 9 of The Prince and the Ice King

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” a whispering voice said from nowhere and yet right at Reardon’s ear.

He jumped, leaning against his smaller friend again as something began to form at his other side, an outline around a figure that didn’t seem to be there but was, like an apparition.

The phantom appeared slight like Barclay and young, though Reardon knew most of the people here were well over a hundred, if not two hundred, years old. This new cursed creature was fully clothed, but his garments were all transparent.

“I’m Spymaster for his royal high-horse up there. Zephyr if I like you.” He grinned, his not-there eyes boring right through Reardon.

“What happens ifyoutouch someone?” Reardon asked.

“Poof,” he said with a pop of the P. “But don’t be too worried, pretty prince. There’s only one more of us, though he might be the mostshocking.”

Reardon frowned, suspecting hidden meaning in the word—but also not liking being called pretty. While once he’d found the compliment flattering, now it reminded him of those awful men in the alley.

“Go on, Barclay,” Josie said, “get him tidied up so we can return him to my brother. Everyone!” she shouted louder, since the crowd had started to titter again. “Make sure the cart is truly gone and that everything is sealed up tight. Nothing changes about the welcome feast unless the king deems it so, and so far, he has not made up his mind. Go!”

Everyone scattered, loyal to their princess, as any good servants would be. She then favored Reardon and Barclay with a warm smile.

Reardon was whisked across the large foyer of the castle with Barclay still holding his waist, leaving Josie behind and the wisp of the Spymaster, and then passing the smoldering Branwen. One more who was cursed, Zephyr had said, which made five in total with the king. What a lonely place this must have been before it was filled with sacrifices. No wonder they welcomed them.

There were so many rooms and corridors and staircases smaller than the one that led to the Ice King’s chamber, Reardon would need aguide for weeks to learn this place. At long last, having passed many of the bustling servants preparing for this supposed feast, they arrived at a long row of more closely spaced doors, and Barclay brought him to one that remained open.

“This was to be the new sacrifice’s quarters. It’s yours, I guess, until the king decides what to do with you.”

It was still spacious for a servant’s room, even with its own privy, bath, washbasin, and access to running water through a pump. There were clothes of varying sizes for men and women in an open wardrobe, and the bed had a beautiful patchwork quilt in bright colors and patterns.

“I feel like an honored guest in a noble’s house, not taking the place of a servant for an enemy king.” Reardon spun about to take it all in. “You all have rooms like this?”

“We do. Though they’re becoming less abundant. They’ve remodeled several old guardrooms and larders in recent years. We make do.”

We, because Barclay was part of this kingdom now, not Reardon’s.

As he turned to his friend, he could see how healthy and happy Barclay looked, maybe more so than he’d ever been in Emerald. He no longer had to pretend here, and he was clearly cared for. His clothes looked brand new, and there was an extra ruddiness to his brown cheeks.

“We should get you cleaned up,” Barclay said, indicating the bath, which someone had already filled with hot water. It looked very inviting, given the chill that had set in after meeting the Ice King and with Reardon’s clothes left damp. “Go on. I’ll find something in your size from the wardrobe.”

Reardon did as he was told, stripping off what he’d thought was his plainest outfit, though everyone had still recognized his station. He left it all in a basket near the bath. The water was absolute heaven after three days on the road and a brush with being frozen.

“What will they do with my weapons?” Reardon asked after he’d sunk his head below the surface to warm his chilled hair.

“I’m sure you’ll get them back. They only take such things until they’re sure there’s no threat. Branwen will oversee it all. He’s master of arms and used to command the king’s army—when they had one.”

“With Josie as princess and Zephyr the…. Spymaster? Sounds ominous.”

“It’s a more daunting name than the truth. Zephyr merely watches and listens to be sure there’s no unrest. He isn’t as sinister as he acts.Most of the time.” Barclay appeared from behind the bath, bringing a dry robe and some soap and oils that he set on a shelf within Reardon’s reach.

Reardon utilized the items to clean himself as his friend sat, close but keeping his eyes averted. “You’re all servants. Does that mean they force your labor?”

“Nothing like that. We just have our place. A place we got tochoose. I’m finishing my apprenticeship with Liam, the king’s wizard, and Widow Caitlin. She was sacrificed a decade ago.”

“Did you say wizard? Magic instead of alchemy?”

“Liam uses everything. I’ve learned so much this past year, Reardon. Magic is a wondrous thing that can work alongside alchemy to create and heal, not only destroy. You’re right to challenge your father.”

“I know, I just wish challenging him was enough. Does all this mean you have no desire to escape with me?”

Barclay looked up at him fearfully.

“We can go,” Reardon whispered, resting his arms on the edge of the bath. “Right now. Convince my father together. Tell him everything about this place.”

---