Page 131 of The Prince and the Ice King

Oliver had Amelia in his lap, both warmed by ale and telling some story or another to elves from the Mystic Valley. The fletcher hadn’t been the same spoiled rich boy who first darkened Jack’s doorstep in decades, but Jack could see the added ease in his expression at the thought of being able to visit his home city again someday.

It was as raucous as any party Jack and his court had thrown when they were squandering the kingdom’s wealth for their own pleasures, only this was how it should have been,forthe people and earned.

Jack even spared a kind eye for Raphael, dancing with Wynn, who he’d snatched up as soon as Wynn took a break and let someone else play the harpsichord for a while.

The Fairy Queen and her prince were dancing too, as if they were the only ones out there—though when the prince caught Jack’s eye, Jack couldn’t help winking, and the handsome blond laughed and lost his footing.

To think, once Jack would have chased after a man like him, after any man who caught his eye without care or consequence, yet now he couldn’t bear the thought of being with anyone but the man beside him.

When Jack finally turned from the crowd, Reardon was gazing back at him. His sweet Emerald Prince reached a hand toward him to wipe away a tear that Jack hadn’t even realized had formed. It was a happy tear, because this was what his kingdom should have been from the beginning, but it had taken a long time for him to understand what being a good king meant.

“You are so beautiful,” Reardon said, “but I thought as much when the scars remained.”

“I know. It was a thoughtful gift.” Jack nodded at the Fairy Queen. “Since she caused more scars than she intended. But my hair is still white.”

“Perhaps that is a gift for me.” Reardon coiled a finger through a fallen strand. “It was the first thing I ever saw of you, just a glimpse over my shoulder when we were in the bath. Now I could look upon you forever.”

“That… is an option.”

“Well, the queen did call this an engagement party.”

“She did. And you, Reardon, would you be my king and I yours to unite our kingdoms? Do you think they could handle that?”

Reardon shifted to look out at the others. “If you’d asked me that before I spent those few days at home, I’d have said no, I don’t think my people are ready. But when I spoke the truth to them and begged their aid against Lombard, they answered my call. Not all of them, granted. There will be dissenters, but we have to start somewhere.”

With a gentle touch at Reardon’s cheek, Jack drew his attention back to him. “Then I’ll ask again: Would you be my king and I yours?”

“Yes.” Reardon’s smile brightened.

“And would you want forever, truly, as the Fairy Queen could offer it?”

“I… I think so, knowing that should we ever grow weary of this world, we could simply wander to new lands and begin a different adventure. What say you, then?”

“Yes,” Jack answered, “I would like nothing better.” He kissed Reardon, and the music and loud chatter dimmed like a distant background swell.

They kissed so long and deeper by the moment, that when they finally parted, Reardon was panting.

“Would you… care to dance, my king?”

“Yes, but elsewhere.”

Jack didn’t give Reardon time to ask what he meant. He took Reardon’s hand and stood, and instead of dropping down to the main floor to join the others, he pulled him into the tunnels.

Reardon

Reardon marveled at the throne room when they reached it. Jack had melted, the court members all flesh and blood too, but he hadn’t thought the places once touched by the Ice King would melt as well.

The room was cool, for it was still vast and made of stone, but it was a soothing cool instead of chilling. The throne wasn’t a throne anymore without a coating of ice to make it imposing, simple in design like Jack’s chair in the hall, instead of the grand throne in Jack’s chambers.

Jack took a breath and surveyed the room as if he hadn’t truly taken it all in when he came up here to change. “I suppose it’s time to move my true throne out here again. Although, if you’re going to be king with me, we’ll need one for you as well.”

Reardon moved into Jack’s body and took his hands. “I think we can both fit. Shall we test it out?”

“I thought you wanted to dance,” Jack teased.

“True.” Reardon encircled Jack’s waist with his arms, feeling Jack encircle him in kind, and led them into a slow sway. “In the place we first met.”

Jack pressed his cheek to Reardon’s. “Indeed. But we haven’t any music.”

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