Page 11 of The Prince and the Ice King

The Ice King was far more potent.

“Come.” Josie appeared, floating in the doorway. They all floated in their own way, Reardon had noticed, except the king, who made everything quake with his steps. “Jack grows impatient.”

Reardon looked to Barclay, but he’d barely opened his mouth before his friend pounced upon him once more for a tight embrace. Then Barclay gasped, a common enough occurrence when he touched someone, but Reardon hadn’t heard that sound in a year.

“A vision?”

“I… I don’t know how to explain….” Barclay pulled back, stunned but difficult to read.

“What did you see?”

“I can’t say.”

“Barclay—”

“I can’t say!”

It was then that Reardon realized… he was going to die here. Barclay was never good at hiding his emotions. But if Reardon was headed to his execution, then he vowed to make his time here count.

“It’s all right.” He coaxed Barclay to return to him, and when he didn’t move, Reardon breached the space between them and hugged his friend again. “I love you, and I am so glad I got to see you again. I’ll be back soon.”

Without waiting to hear Barclay’s response, Reardon moved for the door, past the lightning wizard and his sharp-eyed assistant, to follow Josie back through the castle.

Reardon paid less mind to the servants they passed, moving quietly behind the golden princess, lost in thought. He could salvage this, even if he was destined to decorate the Ice King’s garden.

“Your hair’s still damp, sweet prince,” Josie said once they returned to the grand hall that connected to the main doors of the castle and the bottom of the staircase that led to the Ice King’s chamber. “That won’t do around Jack, even if Liam and good Widow Caitlin gave you some protection. Bran!” she called to the fiery man, who was as large as any normal soldier Reardon had ever met, though not as looming as the Ice King.

Branwen seemed to stomp as he moved toward them, but he too floated, flames pulsing from his body when he came to a halt. “What? Can I turn this brat to ashes yet?”

“No. Just a small little puff, dear, to dry his hair.”

Did she mean—?

Branwen snarled like an angry dragon, and Reardon jolted backward as a burst of heat nearly licked his hair with flames, leaving his face hot and his hair completely dry.

“Using me like a bloody barber,” Branwen grumbled as he walked away.

“Not quite. We’ll need Zephyr for that,” Josie said with a scrutinizing frown at Reardon’s dried locks falling into his eyes.

“At your service.” Zephyr’s voice preceded his appearance again, right at Reardon’s side, where he puffed a breath, like blowing him a kiss, and the madness of Reardon’s hair was suddenly tamed.

“Much better.” Josie turned to the wall behind them and touched a dull stone with the tip of her finger, turning it to shimmering gold and reflecting Reardon’s image back at him as clear as a calm pool.

The finest barber in all the Emerald Kingdom couldn’t have done better.

“No following us the rest of the way now, Zephyr,” Josie said, continuing toward the side staircase they had descended before. “You know Jack hates it when you stick your nose where he hasn’t ordered it.”

Zephyr’s translucent face pouted, and then he vanished on the spot.

The ascent to the Ice King’s chamber seemed longer than the way down, as Reardon’s stomach filled with encroaching dread. “Jack can’t be his given name. What is it short for?”

“Crowned King John of the Sapphire Kingdom, but that was a very long time ago.”

Sapphire. Reardon had never heard this place referred to as anything but Frozen.

Their journey ended abruptly before Reardon could ask any of the questions that had arisen within him. He’d felt the increasing cold as they drew closer to the frosted doors, but it wasn’t as unbearable thanks to the wizard’s potion, even with only a simple doublet instead of his furs. Once inside, he found his feet didn’t slip as easily either.

At the very end of the large room, the Ice King sat with a door on either side behind him. Reardon wondered where they led. The throne the king perched on was magnificent, covered in crystals of ice, yet he lounged in such a carelessly human way.

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