Page 51 of The Prince and the Ice King

“Then I look forward to tomorrow.” He bowed, and only after Jack nodded did he turn to take his leave.

Jack had almost made it to the entrance into the secret passages when he looked back and, realizing he was indeed—again—alone, decided he would stay and read, and maybe the title of that long-forgotten book would come to him.

Reardon

Reardon was hungry but also distracted as he left the library and contemplated all he’d learned. One phrase from the story of the Fairy Queen stuck with him, though he hadn’t dared mention it aloud.

When his heart melts….

The curse could be broken. The Ice King didn’t believe it, but Reardon knew it could be. He just had to figure out how to melt the beast the king believed he’d become.

He may have gotten a little too distracted and excited, because he didn’t know this part of the castle, and he was definitely lost now, with no one else anywhere around. Looking behind him, he wasn’t sure he knew how to get back to the library either.

“Left unattended, pretty prince?”

Reardon jumped at the appearance of Zephyr, fading into existence at the end of the hall. “I don’t like that name,” he said, harsher than intended as adrenaline tore through him.

“Oh? Which part?” Zephyr’s grin gave its usual teasing twitch.

Either, Reardon thought, but then he’d started to think that he did want to be prince if he could make his time as one count and become a good king.

“Strange you wouldn’t want to be called pretty,” Zephyr went on when Reardon didn’t answer. “Do I sense a story there?”

Reardon’s cheeks flushed with shame, and his instincts were to deny it and keep that memory to himself, but Zephyr’s transparency reminded him of what he’d promised.

Relaxing, he walked toward the invisible steward. “After Barclay was sent here, when his next birthday passed, I drowned my sorrows at the tavern. A couple of men tried to take advantage when I was alone on the street.”

Zephyr’s expression slackened.

“Our master of arms came to my rescue before anything happened, buttheycalled me ‘pretty prince.’ Now it just makes my skin crawl.” He shuddered to think of it and wrapped his arms around his middle as he came to a stop before Zephyr.

“For me it was ‘darling,’” he said, causing Reardon’s eyes to bulge, “though we were still indoors. I was drowning my sorrows over my parents kicking me out of our home. The brutes who had me wouldn’t let me out of the corner. Had me boxed in at the least visible part of the tavern, blocking any view to freedom or a savior.

“Thenourmaster of arms saved me, long before he was made of flames. Funny, isn’t it?”

“Funny?”

“How different people in different lands at different times can still have the same story.” Zephyr smiled. He always smiled, but there was sadness to the expression now and the slightest sweetness that Reardon realized was the real Spymaster beneath his sharp-tongued guise. “So…. Reardon it is, then, even if you are still pretty. Come, I’ll show you to the dining hall.”

As Reardon followed, he realized he hadn’t seen Zephyr since yesterday—since the argument he’d witnessed between Zephyr and Nigel. “Did I… say or do something yesterday morning that I shouldn’t have?”

“Meaning?”

“You and Nigel seemed upset. Was it something I did? Or maybe something I can help with?”

Zephyr paused. “You didn’tdoanything, and you can’t do anything to fix what’s wrong. I’m… maybe not the most tactful person in the room most days.”

“You hurt Nigel’s feelings?”

“When you’ve pushed people away all your life—” Zephyr glanced over his shoulder. “—it isn’t easy keeping them close, even after years of practice. Who we were in the beginning….” He trailed off, lifting the palm of his hand to stare at it. “Haunts us.”

“And who were you?”

Zephyr smiled, and while he was still an imp, the comradery that had been missing before shone brightly in his clear eyes. “Anass, couldn’t you tell? Hurry up now. I can hear that lovely lean stomach of yours growling. Nigel’s headed to the dining hall too, wondering if one of usateyou.”

Reardon chuckled as he continued to follow. He forgot sometimes that the Spymaster could hear all that went on in the castle. Smoothing a thumb over one of his own palms, he thought back to yesterday again, which brought his eyes down to his sword belt.

The smaller sheath for his dagger glared emptily back at him.

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