Page 106 of The Prince and the Ice King

The earnest admission made Reardon smile. He had been lucky; the only reason he hadn’t frozen on the spot the other morning was because the king hadn’t been fully transformed when he pulled away. If it hadn’t been for Oliver and Caitlin, and Zephyr who fetched them, Reardon still might have died from the shock or been far worse off than merely scarred. Then Oliver had saved Reardon again when he carried him from the edge of the wood after being stabbed.

“You won’t fail that promise,” Reardon swore to him, gripping his forearm in kind. “Lombard would never hurt me.”

“Reardon, wait.” Barclay grabbed after him, not gasping at the contact but taking in a deep breath as a new vision appeared to wash through him.

No, not new, Reardon realized. The resignation on Barclay’s face said it was one he had seen before.

“I don’t know what it means, or how to prevent it, but what I saw yesterday, and what I just saw again… was everyone in this castle dead.” Barclay let the weight of that sink in, twisting Reardon’s insides with nausea. “It was carnage, everything completely razed, but you… you had a shadow over you, like the future is not yet set. I saw your father, Lombard, and Master Wells. Wells was making a potion….”

“The counter potion?” Reardon pressed. The High Alchemist was gifted. Perhaps, with his help, Reardon could finally succeed in solving his mother’s death.

Barclay didn’t answer, seeming unsure, but Reardon felt more resolute than ever.

“That’s why I have to go.” He pulled Barclay in tight against him, embracing his friend like he had the last time he saw him in Emerald before the guards took Barclay away. “If I don’t, they’ll storm in and prove that vision true, but I can stop it.”

“Open the gates!” Lombard’s voice rang from the castle entrance. “We know you have our prince! You were given your allotted sacrifice! Now, release the prince at once!”

“You see?” Reardon squeezed Barclay once more before pulling away. “It’ll be all right. Lombard thinks I’ve been kidnapped. He’ll see reason if I go out there. I was always going to have to go home to explain, to change my father’s mind. Please, don’t stop me.” Reardon gazed imploringly at Barclay, and then at Oliver.

Oliver nodded.

“Wait,” Barclay said again, but when Reardon readied a protest, all his friend did was push a piece of parchment into his hands. “Take this. It’s my notes on the last version of the potion. It’s not finished. We know we’re still missing something, but if you don’t come back….”

“I will come back,” Reardon promised but still took the parchment, tucking it into his cloak.

He looked up at the castle. Much as he longed to see a familiar hulking form, he knew it would be foolish for the king to be up on the ramparts. There was the brief blur of movement anyway, but that was others staying hidden while readying bows on Oliver’s orders, no doubt. The king was nowhere to be seen.

Reardon hoped Jack understood.

With his swords, dagger, and cloak, Reardon didn’t need to return to his room, and there wasn’t time if he’d wanted to. He believed, however, as he finally made for the gates, that someday soon, he would return.

Jack

Staying out of sight when strangers were within eyeline of the castle was one of the Frozen Kingdom’s most important tenets. Let all who would look upon their prison from afar think it a mystery too terrifying to breach.

Jack followed that rule now, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t watching from his throne room, remaining carefully in the shadows, as Reardon marched to the castle entrance.

Jack hadn’t slept at all the other night, just cleaned what he could of his chambers and turned his bed into kindling, so that now he had nothing in that spot anymore where a bed had once been. He didn’t need sleep, after all, and he hoped he never dreamed again.

“Zephyr,” Jack said low beneath his breath, “carry their words to me.”

Without turning to see Zephyr appear or obey, Jack felt the rush of a bitter breeze, and with it came the distant voices of those at the gates.

Reardon was a smart prince, ensuring the entrance closed behind him quickly so that none of the soldiers outside could catch too much of a glimpse of the castle grounds—though the ice sculptures were difficult to miss.

Jack saw many of the men shift uneasily on their horses.

“General Lombard!” Reardon called to the armored man at the front, who wore a full helmet that obscured his face.

Lombard.

“There’s no need to go any farther. I am not a prisoner, and I will return with you. We shall retreat now, for I have much to discuss with my father.”

The soldiers shifted once more, only Lombard holding firm as he looked down on Reardon from his horse.

“This place is known for dark magic,” Lombard said, “and you have been gone for weeks. Prove you are our prince.”

Not a fool, Jack thought, and Reardon wisely nodded, understanding Lombard’s cynicism.

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