Page 56 of The Prince and the Ice King

“Oh gentle hearth that crackles warm,

Others’ care is who you’ll be.

Consuming pyre or saving grace,

The choices made save you and me.

“Hark! The fire in all,

The fire in you,

The fire in me,

“The fire in all who long to be.”

Reardon chuckled and took another gulp from his goblet.

“You just made that up?” Branwen gawked. “Right now?”

“I did. Drinking must agree with me,” Reardon said with the start of a hiccup.

“Reardon!” Barclay exclaimed, rushing down the stairs with Josie close behind. “Where have you been? They suddenly remembered in the kitchen that they sent you down for wine, and you never came up.”

“Bran!” Josie scolded, seeing the state of Reardon when he turned to his friends with a wide, rosy grin. “What did you do to him?”

“He’s the one who wanted to drink with me,” Branwen protested.

“I made a new song!” Reardon said too loud at Barclay’s ear, when he hurried over to heave him up from the table. “It’s about, um… fire! I think…. Yes, definitely fire!” He burst into giggles, and Branwen chuckled with him.

“You’re not so bad, Emerald Prince.”

“You too, Sir Bran! A true de-light.” He giggled again, all semblance of sobriety gone.

Barclay looked exasperated but mostly amused, and Josie smiled too, sharing the warm expression with Branwen.

“Come on.” Barclay hefted Reardon toward the stairs. “It’s almost nightfall. Josie, can you get someone to grab a couple bottles for the kitchen?”

“I’ll do it!” Reardon broke away, bolting for the back-cellar door.

“No!” Josie cried.

Reardon almost had it open before Barclay, the only one who could stop him without turning him intoanotheraccident, slammed the door shut again. Only the barest hint of gold had been seen, but Reardon didn’t seem to have noticed.

“Notwhere we keep the wine,” Barclay said. “Someone else can do it.”

Josie and Branwen shared soberer looks, but a true spiral from the current merriment had been averted, and while Barclay brought Reardon upstairs to feed him water and bread and whatever else he could get into him, Jack decided not to follow.

Instead, he headed for the library. There was a mere twenty minutes before sunset, but although he still didn’t know where to find his favorite book, now he knew its name.

And he was determined to find it.

“Zephyr!”

Reardon

Sobered and not at all sick or miserable-feeling thanks to water, nourishment, and some combined healing from Nigel and Caitlin, Reardon slogged upstairs to bed. Everyone had adamantly made sure he was okay before taking their leave of him, but he’d assured them he was fine.

Branwen was one of the few remaining in the castle who he hadn’t spoken to at length before that evening, and while Reardon didn’t fully remember everything about their hours together, he was confident he’d made headway.

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