Page 13 of The Prince and the Ice King

“Yes, I can see your calendar is quite full.”

He rumbled with laughter like a brewing winter storm.

For a long stretch of minutes, he stared at Reardon with his uniquely human eyes—different from his companions. The Ice King was more tied to his humanity, even if he’d lost the feeling of it in his heart, and more cursed and tortured because of it, perhaps.

Yet still he said, “Fine. But make no mistake, little prince, if you prove unworthy or attempt to betray me, I will not hesitate to turn you into frozen rubble like that thief.”

All Reardon could do was return his stare and wonder—What was this curse? Why had it been cast? And what had the king been like before it changed him and his kingdom? He had to know, even if a mysterious and frightening future stretched out before him.

Love, death, and blue eyes in a sea of white.

Whatever that might mean.

“You have a deal, Your Majesty.”

Jack

After the prince left, Jack rose from his frozen throne and lumbered toward the door behind him at his right. The path there led throughout the castle, to intricate passageways only meant for the royal family. Thesepassageways were also frozen due to continued use, but they allowed him to keep watch without forcing his cold on those who served him.

Branwen kept the castle warm and bright. Liam kept everyone healthy. Josie kept them happy. And Zephyr kept Jack informed of all he ever needed to know. Still, sometimes he preferred to see for himself.

He went to the servants’ quarters, where he knew they had set aside a room for this year’s sacrifice. He did not have doorways into every area, but it was easy enough to remove a small stone brick somewhere unseen to spy on Prince Reardon and young Barclay.

Barclay was… fine. Jack had barely spoken to him in the many months since his arrival. He barely spoke to any of them. That was for his advisors to attend to. But Josie liked Barclay, and he hadn’t raised any fuss or trouble with the others. He’d been learning the ways of alchemy and magic from Liam alongside the healer, Widow Caitlin, making a fine addition to their community, a simple man who was unfortunate enough to have been gifted something the Emerald Kingdom feared: visions. His powers required touch, however, and for that, Jack was grateful.

He didn’t want to know anything of his own future, spanning endlessly before him.

Watching Reardon and Barclay talk, alone in Reardon’s quarters, all he overheard them discuss at first was Reardon’s deal with Jack, and then what each of them had been up to during their year apart.

“You see. Just two friends happily reunited.”

“Maybe.” Jack didn’t bother turning to face his sister, who’d come from the other end of the passageway. “Barclay is inconsequential, but that prince….”

“What are you thinking?”

“In the end, he’ll try to kill me again. If he does, I’ll kill him first.”

She laughed, softly so as not to be overheard.

Reardon was beautiful, energetic and bold, and not as afraid as many others, even some who’d been in the castle for decades or more. Jack could admit that he found him captivating, but his heart was as much a block of ice as the rest of him. That wouldn’t change. That would never change. And neither would the hard-heartedness of others, the Emerald Kingdom included, even if their prince proved soft.

No, nothing would change, but whatever happened when Jack and Reardon began their “audiences,” he hoped the end he foresaw did not come too quickly.

Chapter 2

Reardon

Reardon was a prisonerof the Ice King until he earned his freedom. He might die here, or his fate could be worse, but the people of this place and its curse might finally give him the answers that could change the hearts and minds of the Emerald Kingdom forever.

His father would know he was missing by now but not where he had gone—it could take weeks or even months before they realized the truth. That was all the time Reardon needed. He was on a desperate mission that could doom or save countless lives now and into the future. As prince and future king of Emerald, it was his duty to see this through—even if it was the last duty he ever performed.

Despite all that, his current preoccupation was staring at his reflection in the glass above the water basin in his room, fretting over his appearance for a welcome feast.

His hair was still well-coifed, his new clothes an attractive color combination, though he never thought he’d look so good in red, so used to wearing green. But how was he supposed to face all those people downstairs?

“I don’t need a feast. I’m hungry, but… this feels wrong. I’m not really one of them. I’m not the sacrifice.”

“But youareone of us,” Barclay insisted. “You don’t have to hide any part of you here. Magic is used freely. People love freely. You could stay forever here and be happy.”

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