Page 98 of The Prince and the Ice King

Beyond Caitlin, Reardon thought he could tell where they were now, in a back corner of the alchemist tower, on a healer’s bed that was almost never used, since no one in the castle ever fell ill.

“He won’t go into his chambers,” Oliver continued, “even with the bed destroyed and so much of it iced over already. It was strange being there. Besides Zephyr, first on the scene, Caitlin and I are the only ones to ever enter those rooms since before the curse.

“Well, besidesyou, Emerald Prince. If Zephyr hadn’t fetched us so swiftly—”

“But Iwasswift,” Zephyr’s windswept voice interrupted whatever Oliver might have said. “And now I can tell the king that his fretting is for naught. His little prince is fine.”

“Wait,” Reardon croaked, turning his head the other way, though it took much effort, his mind as sluggish as if he’d drunk a bottle of wine. He wasn’t certain if Zephyr’s ghostly form floated before him or not, but he said, “Tell the king it’s okay. Not just me.We’reokay. Nothing has to change. I know how he must be blaming himself, butIdon’t. I have no regrets, not a one, about being in this castle or with him. Promise you’ll tell him?”

Zephyr was quiet, and Reardon feared he’d already vanished until he whispered, “All right,” and then he did vanish, removing some of the haziness from Reardon’s eyeline.

“There are others who are worried,” Oliver said, a strong hand patting Reardon’s ankle. “I’ll let them know. Heal well, Emerald Prince.”

“Thank you.”

The combination of treatments Caitlin provided were more than enough to soothe Reardon, and while some of the numbness might be as permanent as the scars he hadn’t yet seen, the pain eventually ebbed. Soon he could sit up and look around, confirming where he was, though Caitlin insisted he rest and avoid lying on his back until evening.

It was annoying, staying on his front or side, but Reardon wouldn’t have minded if the hours hadn’t ticked by without Zephyr bringing any return message from the king. Eventually Reardon was able to stay sitting up for longer periods, and did so in the company of good friends.

Liam had come in by then too, since it was his tower. He feigned lack of concern, but Reardon knew him well enough now to notice the relief in his voice when he said, “If you can sit up and chat, I hardly believe you can’t be useful and work.”

“Liam,” Shayla warned, sitting at Reardon’s bedside with Barclay and Nigel.

Reardon smiled, but his heart wasn’t in it. Although he was grateful for his friends, he ached to see only one face today.

Nigel had tried a few new tales to cheer Reardon up. Shayla had tried jokes. Barclay had excitedly told Reardon of the day’s most recent experiments. None of it lifted Reardon’s melancholy.

Wynn visited too, among others, even Raphael, who’d peeked his head in with a wiggle of his nose. The visits from the court members,however, made Reardon sadder, because they and his other closest friends all made up couples that he envied.

Liam and Shayla ribbed each other ceaselessly but always managed to share a warm smile that spoke of their deeper connection.

Zephyr and Nigel were lighter in their teasing and often fell into somewhat vulgar—yet adorable—promises for when night fell.

Josie and Barclay were sweet and affectionate, even during daylight hours when they couldn’t touch.

And Branwen and Caitlin were just as sweet, however subdued, now that Reardon had seen them together more often. Branwen would grumble like usual, but then call her “Caity” so offhandedly, and she’d smile in a way Reardon hadn’t seen any signs of his first week at the castle.

It just made Reardon more aware that one person hadn’t come to visit him like the rest.

“Nigel, can you call Zephyr for me?” Reardon asked.

“Call me yourself.” Zephyr appeared. Even now, Reardon forgot sometimes how easy it was to catch the Spymaster’s attention.

“Are you sure the king didn’t have a message for me?” Reardon asked in a small voice, feeling exposed with such a vulnerable question spoken with an audience, but then, most of his visitors had stopped by before someone finally brought him trousers.

Zephyr’s features pinched, unmistakable no matter how transparent his face was. “He didn’t say anything, not a word, even after I passed on what you’d said. I’m sorry.”

It had been a fool’s hope, knowing the king as he did now, but one mistake was not going to ruin what they had found together. “Caitlin!” Reardon called. Even tucked back from the main part of the tower, he could still see the edge of the worktables and Caitlin and Liam’s bustling forms.

She leaned around the corner with an inquisitive brow.

“I feel fine. Sore and tired, but I’ve rested enough. Please, may I have your blessing to leave?”

“I suppose.” Her brow pinched like Zephyr’s. “But if you feel unwell or notice any returning pain—”

“I will come right back here. Zephyr, tell me where he is.” Reardon tossed the sheets aside. He was meagerly dressed in trousers and a simple untucked shirt, but he didn’t care how unkempt or casual he looked.

Shayla and Nigel both scooted back their chairs to give him room, and Barclay jumped up to help Reardon stand. Barclay’s eyes widened when their skin touched.

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