Page 53 of The Prince and the Ice King

“He needs to learn, doesn’t he?” Zephyr continued. “As it turns out…Reardonisn’t completely useless.”

“He isn’t?” Nigel prompted.

“Not entirely. But don’t you have lunch to get to?” Zephyr blinked away again, as quickly as he’d come.

Reardon wasn’t sure he understood what had just transpired, but at least the expression on Nigel’s face now was a pleased one. “Just you wait,” Reardon promised. “I’ll get that dagger back yet.”

Jack

Jack was so engrossed in his book, calmer than he remembered feeling in a long time, that it was almost sundown before he realized the day wasover. He retired, finding himself thinking of the young prince again. He didn’t need to spy, but he still felt the urge to, if only to see Reardon for as long as he could.

Which he didn’t think would include sharing their audiences with others.

“There are certain places in the castle I don’t go,” Jack said when Reardon requested he accompany him to the tailoring room the next morning.

“I know, but I also know that you have ways to get anywhere in the castle, so that is not an excuse. As long as we take the tunnels, the cleanup won’t be too bad. Don’t you miss spending time with your subjects?”

Jack sensed a trick, but he couldn’t figure out what it was. “We don’t have enough potion—”

“What do you think this is for?” Reardon hefted the rucksack he’d brought to Jack’s chamber, which clattered with an obvious collection of potion bottles. “Caitlin helped. We’ll choose one room a day. She said she can keep up with that demand. Today we’re going to the tailoring room. Go on.” He motioned Jack toward the entrance into the tunnels. “I’m sure you know the way.”

Jack stomped his foot in irritation, being told where to go in his own castle, but no gust of bitter wind or show of strength affected the prince—not anymore. Jack had no other recourse but to obey.

No opening of the tunnels went directly into the tailoring room, but it took only a few steps from an exit to reach the tailoring room door. Reardon went ahead of Jack then and knocked before entering, warning all inside that they had a guest, before Jack slowly ducked in after him.

The small group of people inside bowed as Reardon went around, handing out potions. None of those gathered seemed surprised to see Jack. Reardon must have told them ahead of time, and Josie, in the corner, looked so smug, turning spools of thread into glittering gold.

“You realize I can’t touch anything,” Jack grumbled at Reardon.

“I know. But I believe you have a keen eye.” He returned to set his now empty rucksack aside. “Shayla and Josie are helping me with two doublet designs, and I’d love your thoughts, Majesty.”

Shayla was indeed there, one of Jack’s most capable hunters, foragers, and artisans, and one of the first who’d become taken by Reardon. She brought over two swaths of fabric, one a beautiful emeraldand one a deep sapphire blue. She also held a square of practice cloth with various embroidery samples.

“I taught our Emerald Prince this one.” She showed Jack a square embroidery stitch like the links of a chain. “And he taught me the other.” Then she showed one in a diamond pattern.

“Josie can do two types of gold thread,” Reardon said, snatching up a couple finished spools. “Aren’t they beautiful?”

One was her usual yellow gold, but the other was silvery white. The way they glittered was quite enchanting, and Josie glowed with pride in a way Jack hadn’t seen in years.

“Very beautiful,” he admitted.

“I was thinking yellow gold for the green, and silver for the blue,” Reardon said, “but which style for which? I’d like to practice both.”

“I don’t have the skills—”

“It’s not skill I’m after. It’s your opinion, which I value very much.”

That rare warmth filled Jack’s chest. He considered the fabrics, the thread, the embroidery styles. “Squares in gold. Diamonds in silver.”

“I thought so too.” Reardon beamed. “Do you want to see how each is done?”

Jack sat in the corner of the room, slowly frosting the stones beneath him, but those with him didn’t seem to mind. While Reardon sat close to show Jack his embroidery, Shayla chatted with him as well, as did others, bringing their creations over for Jack’s commentary.

A bitter part of him wanted to say that his opinion didn’t matter since no one had seen him in clothes in two hundred years, but he held his tongue because they all looked genuinely pleased to have him there and appreciative of his responses.

After Josie turned a small pile of thread into dazzling additions to their trimmings, she whispered, “Still waiting two weeks?”

“Yes,” Jack said without falter.

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