Page 35 of The Prince and the Ice King

His treks with Shayla through the castle had taught him a few new routes, so he took a shortcut to make his way to the kitchen, swiped meat and a chunk of bread that one of the workers he’d befriended in the tailoring room allowed with more of a smile than yesterday, and then took another new route toward the king’s staircase.

On this path, he passed a row of paintings, some of landscapes and animals, but others of well-dressed nobles. Former royalty, he supposed. He came to a glaringly empty spot on the wall before reaching the last—an elegant brunette woman with sharp blue eyes. It took him a moment of staring at her remarkable beauty to realize that, while the hues had changed, the face remained.

It was Princess Josephine.

“I hated sitting for that portrait.”

Reardon spun around, surprised yet again by a court member, always so good at sneaking, given that their feet didn’t touch the ground. “Princess.” He bowed his head. “You are as lovely now as you were then.”

“Josie,” she reminded him, floating closer, but not too close. She was truly ravishing in monochrome gold, but the painting added depth that she clearly missed as she gazed upon her portrait. “And you’re sweet. It’s a wonder this ever got painted. I get restless sitting still. Jack too. Even when he lounges like a contented cat, he’s always shifting or fidgeting his hands.”

That drew Reardon’s eyes to the empty space where another painting might have hung. “Are there no portraits of the king?”

“None that survived.” She turned to him, offering a melancholy smile. “He won’t look at himself anymore, who he used to be. To him, he’s only the monster.” She gestured down the corridor for them to walk. “You’re getting to him, though. I can tell.”

“It didn’t seem that way yesterday.” Reardon barely had the king’s ear for half an hour.

“Give him time.”

There were other members of the castle up and about, but not many, giving them solitude to speak, yet there was only one thing on Reardon’s mind as the puzzle remained unfinished. “Josie… would you tell me about the curse?”

“You’ll have to get the story from Jack if you want to win him over. Some things will reveal themselves in time. What I’m sure I don’t need to tell you is that he blames himself, but we all deserved what became of us.”

Ice and gold, the royals of this cursed kingdom were both made of seemingly unfeeling things, yet they lived as vibrantly as anyone, and neither was truly cold, not even King Jack for all his attempts to act that way.

They were sad more than anything, and for that, Reardon wished he could reach out and place a comforting hand on Josie’s arm.

“He told me he earned the curse,” Reardon said as they began winding up the staircase he’d climbed many times now. “Says he’s a villain.”

“The king before, our father, was the real villain. He was a true tyrant, and his reach was vast. Our kingdom is only this castle now but growing again, almost more than we can contain within these walls, and we’re happy here with what we have.

“We’re not heroes, Reardon, but I like to think we’re not villains either.”

“And before?”

A sigh passed her golden lips, accompanied by a faintly derisive chuckle. “We might as well have been a gallery of rogues.”

While each member of the court was unconventional in their role compared to what Reardon was used to for a kingdom, he didn’t think any of them roguish.

But then, just as they reached the door to the Ice King’s chamber, Zephyr appeared to block their path, causing Reardon to lurch backward and wonder if at leastonemember was a rogue.

“Sorry to interrupt.” Zephyr grinned, though he kept a safe distance. “The king would like to take today’s audience in the back courtyard.”

“You mean the training yard,” Josie said with a frown.

“Same thing.”

“What is Jack plotting?”

“I couldn’t begin to imagine. But he did say he’d prefer that I show the young prince the way.”

The Ice King was getting rid of his sister, the only member of the court who’d been truly kind to Reardon. Liam had seemed tolerant yesterday but not exactly friendly, and the rest… well.

Reardon didn’t trust the look on the Spymaster’s face.

“If he gets hurt, whoever does the maiming will answer to me,” Josie said, her golden sheen practically glowing as she projected the same aura of authority that her brother commanded so well—not that it softened use of the word “maim.”

“Don’t worry, Reardon.” She shifted seamlessly back to a benevolent princess. “He simply hopes to test you and push you into a corner. You push him right back.”

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