Page 39 of The Prince and the Ice King

“Making up for past mistakes does not absolve them.”

“Perhaps not, but if you were a bad king, you wouldn’t care to make up for anything.” Reardon shifted closer, too close, only a foot from certain death, despite how close he’d come to it down below. “Please, Majesty, tell me of the curse. Have I not proven myself enough?”

Not enough for everything, but there were layers to this tale.

“Do you know whom you will marry?” Jack asked, watching the expected reaction of Reardon’s cheeks flushing and his eyes going wide.

“I… no. My father has not yet chosen anyone or introduced me to candidates. I expect it will be soon, though.”

“When my father introduced me to mine, I told him to marry them himself, for I’d sooner see his decaying corpse on the throne than ever rule.”

“You did not wish to be king?”

“I did not wish to be beholden to anyone but myself. As prince, I had everything I wanted. Money, power, prestige. I could do whatever I chose, and no one questioned me. But if I was king, I would have responsibilities.

“My father was a traditionalist, like the worst of those from your kingdom. He didn’t scoff at magic, as long as he controlled those who wielded it, but he believed elves should only lie with elves, men only with women, and the lands must always be ruled by a firstborn son of our line—married and with at least one heir on the way before they took the throne.

“I wanted none of it. Least of all a queen.”

“What did you do?” Reardon asked with rapt attention.

Jack leaned his massive head down to him. “I fucked all the stable boys.”

“R-really?” Reardon sputtered, face flushing as scarlet as his doublet.

“Not only the stable boys,” Jack amended. “More so as many men as I could. Out of desire, certainly, but also to spite my father.”

“And—” Reardon reached for the stone wall as if to steady his footing. “—did they want to be taken by their prince?”

“Are you asking if I forced myself on them?”

“I-I wouldn’t presume—”

“Rest assured, little prince, it was always mutual want.”

The tension in Reardon eased, but his mind was clearly working through the implications. “Is that what cursed you?”

“You think lying with men could curse a whole kingdom?”

“No! I don’t agree with the teachings of my kingdom that it’s wrong. Ican’t, not when I—” Reardon snapped his mouth shut before the truth could escape him.

“Not when you lust for no queen either,” Jack finished.

The tension returned tenfold, Reardon’s blush draining away to leave him pallid. “Am I so obvious?”

“No, but I’ve seen enough. You’re used to hiding yourself.” Jack steeled his gaze on Reardon sharply. “You will not hide from me. If you wish to know me and for me to know you, then you will be as transparent as Zephyr. Do you understand?”

“Y-yes, Majesty.” Reardon regained his composure with a stalwart breath. “I did not mean to hide my… wants. I’ve just rarely spoken of them. Barclay is the only one who knows. But you are right. I have no desire for a queen.”

“Then what do you desire?”

Epic tales could have been written with the many thoughts that played behind Reardon’s eyes, his gaze clouded as he considered his answer. “A choice.”

Jack turned back to look upon the landscape beyond them. “So did I.”

“What happened?”

“My father died, and I became king anyway.”

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