Page 8 of The Prince and the Ice King

And it was grand, so grand and beautiful, with tapestries and archways and furniture that belied what Reardon had seen upstairs. Only the Ice King lived in drab darkness. The rest of this castle was a wonder—as were its people.

“There he is!”

“Josie brings him!”

“Oh, he’s handsome!”

“Andarmed! Relieve him of all that immediately!”

Reardon was swarmed, feeling the onset of panic, even if he had discovered a different sort of kingdom than expected. Some of the faces were familiar, from the last twenty years or so, a few even looking at Reardon in recognition as well, but there were also elves and half-elves. He’d heard that in ages past elves lived hidden in his kingdom, but he’d never seen anyone of elven blood before, the race most known to be born with magic in their veins.

It was said they’d hidden their ears with magic too, for it clearly gave them away, the full-blooded elves slimmer, with long, tapered ears stretching away from their heads, and the half-elves closer to humans in appearance but still with prominent points to their ears and an extra shimmer in their eyes.

Reardon was so stunned, taking it all in, that he didn’t think to fight back as he was divested of his sword belt.

“Are they sending us nobles now?” A woman with dark skin and intricately pinned hair sneered at him as she inspected his sword. “What’s your crime, darling? Bugger a few boys?”

“No,” Reardon exclaimed, stricken by her coming close to guessing the crime that would have condemned him had he been the real sacrifice. “I’ve never—”

“Reardon!” a familiar voice shouted, and Reardon’s head snapped around so fast, he didn’t care that some wild-looking half-elf with very strange clothing had just snatched the bejeweled dagger from the sheath on his ankle.

“Barclay!”

The others parted, Josie watching from a safe distance up the staircase, as Barclay appeared, barreling toward Reardon to throw himself on him with enough force that Barclay’s feet left the ground. The embrace felt more sound and secure than any Reardon had experienced since Barclay was taken.

“Oh, my friend, I’ve missed you.”

“I told you not to follow me,” Barclay chided once he’d finished squeezing Reardon. “But today is the day of the offering. Does that mean you did it? You finally convinced your father to stop?”

Reardon looked down in shame, holding tight to Barclay’s forearms to keep him close. “I tried so many times, but he wouldn’t listen. I traded places with this year’s sacrifice to come free you.”

“What is going on?” a new voice boomed over the din of the crowd.

The other voices stopped, and anyone who hadn’t slunk away did so now, all save Barclay, who kept an arm around Reardon’s waist and turned to face outward as if to ward off some great threat.

Then Reardon saw why, because what came forward through the wide berth the humans and elves of the castle had created had to be another creature of the curse.

Just as the king was made of ice and Josie of gold, this man, big and burly and menacing, was made of flames. He seemed mostly nude like the Ice King, but a long vest hung from his shoulders, made of his element just like Josie’s garments.

Reardon leaned into Barclay. He’d rather turn to ice or gold than be burned.

“Why are you clinging?” the flaming man demanded of Barclay. “Who is he?”

“This is Reardon, Branwen. My friend.”

“Not the sacrifice?”

“Not technically, but—”

“Then what is he doing here?” Branwen demanded like the roar of a forest fire.

“Calm down,” Josie spoke over him. “Prince Reardon replaced the sacrifice. Your temper doesn’t have to be as fiery as your face, you know.”

Reardon didn’t think he could ever get used to reading expressions in elements, but Branwen looked like burning fury. “Jack knows about this?”

“He does. I’ll take the prince back to him once he’s had a moment to collect himself. Maybe we can clean and clothe him too, make him more presentable. Jack’s temper isn’t any better than yours these days.”

“How many cursed are there?” Reardon asked in wonder after Branwen grudgingly backed off.

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