Page 30 of The Prince and the Ice King

“Magic simply means learning to harness the power within you so that alchemy isn’t necessary to cause the same results. I can cast a spell that has the same effect as one of these potions, but it takes a toll, has a price, energy that needs to be replenished. Understand? That is magic, though there are a few exceptions, people who have special abilities unique to them that may or may not have a similar cost. Like Barclay.”

Reardon edged around the table, moving cautiously closer to Liam. The Emerald Kingdom only taught its people to fear magic, not how it worked. “Do you have one? A unique ability?”

The bite to Liam’s gaze softened as he looked at Reardon. “In the spring, when it’s been too long without rain, let’s just say… sometimes there is a suddenstorm.”

The thought of all that power made Reardon light up with excitement. Control over weather. That explained why he’d become lightning. “How wonderful.”

“See,” Shayla said. “I told you he was a good kid.”

Liam shifted, like he’d once again been caught doing something he didn’t want others to see, but his crackles dimmed, and the comradery between him and Shayla bloomed once more as easily as the awkwardness had withered it before.

These people weren’t monsters—not the king’s court or those who had been sent here. The elementals were frightening, the Ice King most of all, but whatever their curse, even the king was more than what he seemed.

Like with Liam, there was also something aboutJack, something soft and entrancing within his jagged, frozen lines, that Reardon swore he would suss out.

The king’s eyes proved it.

Blue eyes in a sea of….

A jolt of anxiety shot up Reardon’s spine, as if he’d been struck by Liam’s lightning. He’d had the thought once before, but the old vision couldn’t mean the king… could it? It involved Reardon being here, clearly, but either he would only know true love through his friendship with Barclay or, if romance was in his future, then maybe with someone else within these walls.

It couldn’t be the Ice King. That was preposterous!

But it made Reardon really want to talk with Barclay.

“Barclay, do you have time to—”

“He’s working,” Liam said shortly, though perhaps a touch less menacing than before. “You did your duty, now go bother someone else. Bottling these potions is delicate work, as I’m sure you know, if you’re so knowledgeable.”

“I can meet up with you later,” Barclay said without taking his eyes off the careful ladling of potion into one of the vials. “We can have lunch. I’ll meet you in the hall at noon.”

“All right….”

“Let’s leave these wily wizards be.” Shayla moved from her vigilant post, leaving her bag on the table. “We have laundry to attend to. Or did you plan to skip that part of today’s labor?”

Reardon felt marginally better about his standing here, having gotten a little on Liam’s good side and being productive, even if Caitlinstill wouldn’t meet his gaze, and he did appreciate Shayla being his unofficial guide. “I’ll help.”

“And don’t worry,” she said, patting his back, firm but affable. “Liam’s only 95 percent asshole.”

“Shayla…,” Liam called as she tugged Reardon toward the exit.

“Till next time!” she called back and kept on walking.

Reardon could ask about the vision later—the old vision, not the more recent one that Barclay was unwilling to talk about. Reardon knew there were more important things than his love life, but oh, wouldn’t it be something to finally know another man’s touch? If ever he was going to find romance, it had to be here, where love wasn’t limited by law.

“You’re safe here,”Barclay had said. There were others like him in this castle, many others, who loved without fear.

Reardon tried to pay attention to the route Shayla took him on to better map the castle, but his thoughts strayed—especially when he caught the attention of a passing elf. Most people he came upon cast him wary glances or avoided him, but this tall, lanky figure smiled like he hardly knew how not to, handsome in a pointy-featured sort of way, with dark hair and red-and-purple accents in his clothing.

As Reardon and Shayla moved past him up another set of stairs, Reardon couldn’t help staring at the elf, who scanned down Reardon’s body with a stretch to his smile and a funny little wiggle to his nose—and then winked.

Reardon slammed into the banister, whirling his head around to grab onto it and keep from flipping over the railing and dropping the very long distance down to the main floor. Shayla didn’t notice, but when Reardon glanced back, the elf was still smiling.

Wouldn’t it be something?he thought again—as long as it didn’t cause him to plummet to his death.

Looking away with his face flushing, Reardon hurried after Shayla. Although the elf’s grin had been attractive, all Reardon could think was….

He didn’t have blue eyes.

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