Page 16 of The Prince and the Ice King

The Ice King looked so smug, his eyes piercing as he hushed the crowd. “There you have it, little prince. But I suppose you think yourself a hero anyway, hoping to prevent persecution of thecorrupt. He claims he wants to know me,” he returned to his people, “know us and our ways, our curse, to bring an end to the Emerald Kingdom’s follies. Maybe he is honest. Maybe he hopes to overthrow me.”

“Wait—” Reardon tried.

“He is the future king of our neighbor, after all!” the king cried louder. “I wonder what to do with him….”

“Kill him!” someone shouted.

“Stop the Emerald Prince!”

“Freeze him now, Majesty!”

“No!” Barclay burst up from his seat, drawing the angry eyes of his fellows. His friends had not erupted with such words, but many others had. “Please. He means well. Truly. I know he means to help. He’s not like the others. Reardon has been my friend for years with no hope of gain for himself.”

“No?” Widow Caitlin said, cool and expressionless. “He did not know of your visions or benefit from them?”

“He… did, but… but I offered my visions, he never asked—”

“Sounds like a charlatan to me!” Nigel cackled.

Shayla laughed, and many nearby laughed with them, leaving Reardon certain that his death was imminent, but the Ice King quieted the crowd once more, as Barclay sat with a distressed frown.

“Let the prince speak,” the king said. “Go on, tell us. What makes you not like the others of your land?”

With all eyes on him, as pointed as the tips of pitchforks, Reardon hesitantly stood. The seats Barclay had chosen for them were almost perfectly in the center of the room, making him feel surrounded and very aware of the peril he was in if they called for his death.

“I don’t believe in corruption,” Reardon said, causing an uproar of fresh murmurs. “I don’t! Not like they say. Not for loving someone or having magic inside you. I only wish to understand to be able to better convince my father.”

“He’s not one of us!”

“Kill him anyway!”

“How can we trust him?”

The voices of dissent returned, and Barclay looked to Reardon pleadingly to say more, to say the truth—that hewaslike those who the Emerald Kingdom would call corrupt if they knew his secret. But Reardon had held that in for so long, he didn’t think he could admit it here, like this, in the middle of a crowded room.

The voices rose higher, and Barclay’s stare grew more insistent. Reardon had to speak to save himself, and as much as it shook him, he readied himself to do just that, when the Ice King hushed the crowd like before.

“I hear you, good people, but I also hear disagreement, and not everyone has spoken. Let us take it upon ourselves to make the Emerald Prince prove himself. We will have our feast, but as the days and weeks pass, I will look to all of you to help me decide what to do with him.

“Make sure the prince pulls his weight and that he is worthy of whatever fate he earns.”

There were stomps of feet and a clatter of dishes as people pounded the tables with their fists like some tribal ritual, a promise between them that cast even more menacing stares Reardon’s way. The king had painted a target on him, ensuring Reardon’s time here would not be easy.

“To the feast!” The Ice King clapped, and the resonance of his large clawlike hands cast an extra chill through the room that spurred his people to attack the hot food before them.

Everyone started filling their plates, but as famished as Reardon was, his stomach churned at what had transpired. He was in enemy hands and had no idea how to gain their trust.

“Relax. No one will dare touch you now.” Shayla smacked his back so hard, his chin nearly collided with his empty plate. “They’ll leave that to the king.” She snickered, smacking him again before reaching for a large leg of juicy game meat.

“At least it’ll be quick.” Nigel snickered in kind.

“Stop,” Barclay pleaded. “They’re only joking.” He filled his own plate and then started to fill Reardon’s, nudging him to eat.

Maybe Shayla and Nigel were only joking, but Reardon could feel eyes on him from all sides, and Widow Caitlin kept passing him her frosty stare. She might as well have had the same powers as the Ice King for how chilly she appeared.

“Eat.” Shayla nudged him as Barclay had. “You’re no good to anyone sulking. Make friends! Get the people on your side and the king will have no choice but to spare you.”

“How do I do that?” Reardon muttered. “Everyone hates me.”

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