Page 21 of The Prince and the Ice King

“I’m sorry. I can’t say,” Barclay whispered. “I’m welcome here in ways only you ever welcomed me back in Emerald, and for that, no one will ever replace you in my heart as friend and brother, but….”

Reardon shook his indignancy away as he saw his friend’s pinched frown. “I understand. I’m meant to earn learning the rest, and I will. I will change things like I promised, even if you never want to come home with me.”

Barclay took Reardon’s hands beneath the table, like a silent apology for wanting to stay. “Eventually we’ll be able to talk about everything, and then I can explain why I’m so happy this is my home now.”

Reardon supposed he’d never envisioned what a place where he could be himself would feel like. He wasn’t sure he knewhowto be himself. Barclay knew his secret, but Reardon had never been able to tell anyone else or openly express romantic affections for another man. He saw men and women express it to each other all the time, but….

But here there was so much more to be amazed by.

A pitcher held aloft at the end of the table caught his attention, and when he looked, he saw that no one was holding it. Itfloated, moving down the table to the waiting hand of an elf.

The elf was broad-shouldered and handsome, with black hair and an unruly curl hanging across his forehead. He poured water for himself, and then some for the human woman next to him, who sat close, clinging to his arm.

They were clearly a couple, something that would have condemned the woman too, just for that—lying knowingly with someone of mystic blood. Perhaps that was what had happened, him sent here, discovered as an elf, and her following, called corrupt, right behind him.

Fewer eyes were on Reardon now, and it afforded him the sight ofcasualmagic being performed all around, as well as other mixed couples showing affection. More items floated rather than having to be handed down. There were simple transformations, like bread becoming cakes and the white meat of the game birds becoming dark for those who preferred it. Even mending could be done at the wave of a hand, fixing a stain from an overzealous wine drinker or a button that had fallen off someone’s tunic.

Reardon stared at it all in awe, but maybe more so at the couples, so comfortable and unafraid together, whether elves and humans or half-elves and—

His heart jumped, all other focus draining away, as he looked back to the muscled woman beside Nigel, who had a beautiful dark-haired half-elf beside her. She was cupping her cheek, whispering sweet words that had them both smiling. Then shekissedher, simple but bold, right there at the table for everyone to see.

No one else seemed to care or even looked their way. And they weren’t the only ones. At other tables there were other such couples, just as brazenly holding each other or enjoying brushes of their lips—women together,mentogether. Suddenly, Reardon noticed all of them and couldn’t look away.

“You’re safe here,” Barclay whispered, noticing his diverted attention with a soft smile.

Reardon smiled too, because these daring couples gave him hope, even if he wasn’t ready to sing his own secret to the rafters like he had the thief’s tale.

He shook his head when Nigel tried to fill his empty water goblet with wine, but Nigel insisted. “It’s your party, even if much of the room is being poopers about it. Have one glass or you will deeply offend me.”

Reardon had two, enough wine that, combined with his exhaustion, his eyes soon started to droop, and his head nearly slumped into a pudding.

Barclay coaxed him out of his seat to lead him from the hall, assuring him that he could go to bed whenever he wanted now that the king was gone, even if there were a few jeers thrown their way as they left. Barclay’s friends had all departed too, though he wouldn’t have pegged them for early retirees.

“Where’s your room?” Reardon asked, waking up more as they walked, alone now in the corridor to Reardon’s chambers.

“Right next door,” Barclay said. “People change rooms sometimes, but generally, each new sacrifice is next to the previous year’s. Easier to expand that way.

“Nigel and Shayla aren’t so bad, right? And Caitlin will warm to you. She just doesn’t talk much until she gets to know someone.”

“And here I was taking it personally,” Reardon joked. “They’re lovely, really, but an odd match for friends, especially since you’ve all been here a different amount of time.”

Barclay wrinkled his nose.

“It just surprised me!” Reardon amended.

“They all have other friends too, and so do I. Everyone is friendly here. They will be to you too, I swear. But the four of us have… a lot in common.”

“Caitlin also works with the wizard?”

“And Shayla. She collects most of the supplies we use. I’m sure you’ll see for yourself. They’ll all think of ways to put you to work.”

“Is that what they did to you?”

“To start. To gauge what sort of person I was but also my interests. It’ll be fine,” he reassured him, taking both hands again. “How can it not be when you were nothing but honest in there?”

The knot in Reardon’s stomach twisted to remind him that he wasn’t as certain as he pretended. “Do you think we offended the king with that story?”

“He isn’t easily offended or I wouldn’t have started it.”

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