Page 113 of The Prince and the Ice King

It was like all Reardon’s adolescent fantasies come true….

Butno—this couldn’t be real! Lombard was the one who found the city’s deviants, who locked them away or made sure they were banished.

“Stop!” Tearing his lips away, Reardon pushed at Lombard’s chest. “I-I… I’m imagining this or… or I’ve fallen asleep!”

“No, my prince,” Lombard whispered, so close despite Reardon’s wriggling, still holding his chin and smiling. “You are very much awake and seeing nothing but the truth.” He tried to kiss Reardon again.

“It’s against the law!” Reardon sputtered, shaking Lombard’s fingers from his face. “I’ve watched you cart people away who were caught with another as we just were.”

“I know,” Lombard said with pain in his expression, relenting finally and pulling back. “I am a hypocrite. I would never, ever have acted if you hadn’t confessed first. You’re like your mother and wish to do away with the old customs, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Reardon said softly.

“Then know this, my future king.” Lombard lifted his hand slowly, allowing Reardon to deny him if he so wanted, but when those cool fingers touched Reardon’s chin again, he stayed frozen within their grasp. “I will not condemn you if you do not condemn me.”

It was everything Reardon had ever wanted. “Never,” he said, and had his breath stolen when Lombard renewed their kiss with an eager lunge.

Passion was easy to feel springing to life inside Reardon with the tightening of Lombard’s grip, his other arm looping around Reardon’s waist to hold him close and his tongue boldly seeking Reardon’s own. The worktable they leaned against shook from Reardon sagging more weight against it, and he heard the vials he’d been working with clink in their holders.

He’d only ever known one other man’s mouth and tender touch, and this felt… different.

Lombard’s hand at his back tugging his shirt from his trousers, his whole body encompassing Reardon’s as he kissed him deeper, felt different too.

It feltwrong, with a twist of shame in Reardon’s gut.

The vision could mean Lombard. It could mean anyone. Lombard’s face had looked so white last night, and his eyes were beautifully blue, but that was when Reardon realized the truth, as his stomach bottomed out at the mere thought of his love being anyone else.

Because, deep down, the vision didn’t matter. All Reardon cared about was how he felt, andhe loved Jack.

“I can’t.” Reardon tore away once more, more harshly and certain in his dissent.

“You can—”

“No. I can’t.” Even held tight in Lombard’s embrace, a place Reardon had once longed to be, he pulled his head out of reach. “Not because I think it’s wrong. I don’t. I never did. And please, please forgive me, but… I’m in love with someone else.”

Lombard stared, not seeming to understand. “Barclay?”

“No! Barclay and I are merely friends.”

“Then someone else at the Frozen Kingdom? One of those monsters?”

“They’re not monsters!” Reardon defended. “They’re… not what you think. I swear, Bardy, I found my love there. I’m sorry.”

Lombard drew back, the hand that had held Reardon’s face so sweetly falling to the table, though his other remained loose around Reardon’s waist. “I never expected this. No matter, though.”

Reardon meant to apologize again, but his words caught in his throat as Lombard continued.

“I only thought to do something nice for you before the end.”

The pain was so abrupt and cloying, Reardon’s mouth fell open in a silent scream.

“Shhh….”

Lombard’s hand on the table had claimed the dagger and stabbed it into Reardon’s heart.

“I know it hurts.” He used his grip to twist the dagger hard, springing tears to Reardon’s eyes. “But it won’t kill you. Yet. This dagger is special. It will keep you very much alive, until I’m ready to use you.”

Reardon stared, and within Lombard’s clear blue eyes, a darkness seemed to swirl, cold and terrifying.

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