The Prince and the Ice King by Amanda Meuwissen

Chapter 14

REARDON FELTthe way Jack tensed at the arrival of the Fairy Queen—Mavis—in the center of the battlefield, or rather, what had been a battlefield, but that Jack had diffused into a peaceful standoff.

None of the Emerald soldiers looked likely to take up arms again, though a good many looked nervous or at least in wonder at the great queen of elves proven as real as the Ice King in their midst.

What exactly had transpired, Reardon couldn’t say. He’d known only what he had to do and had kissed Jack boldly in goodbye upon his icy lips, but what he’d expected to be as excruciating as the dagger once pierced into his chest had proven to be a peaceful chill that overtook him like falling into a deep sleep.

Then, in what had seemed like moments, he woke again, the cold turned to soothing warmth like that of a summer sun. The dagger was gone, and the pain with it, which meant, especially with Mavis’s arrival, that Lombard must be gone too. Reardon would mourn him eventually, but for now, all he could feel was joy to have the curse lifted and the battle ended without further bloodshed.

Even if Jack was stark nude in the middle of it all beneath Reardon’s borrowed cloak.

“You dare show yourself the moment we earn freedom!” Jack roared. He wasn’t in as delighted a mood and pulled Reardon behind him as if to shield him from her power.

“Jack—”

“I won’t let you touch him or any of my people again!”

Mavis clucked her tongue, walking toward them with her indigo gown fluttering elegantly as she moved and everyone in her path giving a wide berth. “Such a temper—for a barefoot man in the snow.”

Reardon couldn’t help but notice that she was barefoot again too.

“You did this,” Jack seethed.

“I did some of this, and for the part I played in a too long and lasting torture, I beg forgiveness.” She bowed, and whatever smugness had donned her face fell away.

Jack didn’t seem to know how to respond.

“My love,” Reardon tried again, moving to stand beside Jack and taking hold of his hand, “her curse may have been cruel, but she has not been idle watching, laughing at your struggles. She couldn’t do more than watch because of Lombard. She didn’t close off her lands, hidden in the Mystic Valley to mock you. She was a prisoner just as you were.

“And… well….” Reardon glanced down, marveling at their connected skin in the sunlight, though that paled in comparison to being able to look up and see Jack’s face in the day. “Are you really angry to be here now with subjects and friends who are more like family? Are you angry over the lessons you’ve learned and all you have gained?” Like me, he thought, though he already knew that answer.

Jack’s human face, however scarred, his white hair falling in windblown strands across his forehead, was so beautiful to Reardon with sweet resignation and fondness upon it.

“I won’t take back what I did or why.” Mavis drew their attention back to her. “But I swear I would have been kinder had I the chance.” She took another step closer and extended an arm to Jack. “Can you forgive me, Sapphire King?”

Even with so large an audience, all the air seemed to escape Jack in one great sigh for how everything had led to this one exchange between monarchs.

“If it hadn’t been for our curse, my fellows and I wouldn’t have all we do.” Jack looked to Reardon first, tightened his hold on Reardon’s hand, and then returned to the queen. “What say we forgive each other?” he said and reached his free hand to clasp her forearm.

Reardon expected a cheer, but all went silent, because Jack began to glow.

The light lasted only a moment, but when it faded, Mavis pulled her hand away, and Jack stood there, free of all his scars. He noticed immediately, because his outstretched arm was bare outside the cloak.

“You didn’t need to do that,” Jack said, turning his hand in the sunlight. “I—”

“You don’t have to play martyr,” Mavis said. “We all carry enough scars. Accept the gift. And try not to flirt with my husband this time.”

Reardon laughed, and as he turned to look where the queen inclined her head, he could see them. A caravan approached from the Mystic Valley, and at its head was her handsome human Prince Consort.

“I’ll try my best,” Jack joked, and then cleared his throat as if to shake away whatever sentiment was cloying there too tightly. “Come! All are welcome here. Let us get inside to be warm and clean and freshly fed. I am sure we all have much to tell each other.”

Reardon was glad to see that the Emerald soldiers didn’t hesitate, perhaps too weary or too stunned by all they had seen to imagine slinking away. It was an easy task to move for the Frozen—no, the Sapphire castle.

As they went in through the gates, and Reardon saw how spacious Jack’s garden looked with no ice sculptures to adorn it, he remembered where Lombard had been standing and wondered if that was where he had fallen, though there was no trace of him save the melted ice.

“What of Lombard?” Reardon asked, turning to Mavis, walking in step beside him and Jack. “He seemed a twisted and cruel man, but all he wanted was what you have.”

“Do you blame me for his corruption?” she asked.

“No, I… I just wonder if all this could have been avoided if he’d gotten what he wanted when he asked.”

“Or perhaps it would have been much worse. All I did was tell him no and look where it brought him.” She gestured to the same cold ground beneath their feet. “If people can take immortality with them, it changes them. Surely, the people here changed, but they could have left their immortality behind and traveled beyond these lands. Choice is key, Reardon. People choose whether they want to be better or worse versions of themselves every day.”

“With the curse gone,” Jack said, as though a sudden weight sunk within him, “this place will no longer keep everyone alive.”

“But children can flourish again,” Mavis said. “Or I could compromise the power here to allow children without anyone losing their immortality, like my own lands. Or, if you’d prefer this place stay untouched by such magic, yet some of your subjects aren’t ready to give immortality up, they are welcome in the Mystic Valley, same as before.”

Reardon saw how the unknown future ahead weighed on Jack, so he pulled in closer to his lover’s side, feeling the firm lines of him through the cloak and how he shivered in the snow.

“I will have to think on it and pose it to my people,” Jack said. “I have lived a long life, but I don’t know if I’m ready for it to be shortened.” He leaned against Reardon in reply. “Many of my subjects from the start of my reign are in your valley, aren’t they?”

“Some. Some moved on to live simpler lives before our lands were locked. Those who stayed might even want to return here.”

Barclay and the rest of the court were ahead of them but had slowed their gait upon nearing the castle doors. Reardon knew they had done so to listen in, because Zephyr would no longer have his ability to spy anywhere he pleased.

Since they had overheard, however, Liam rushed toward them at those words. “Do you know if….” He trailed off, his face pinched with uncertainty, yet still, he tried. “I… had a daughter.”

“Children age in the Mystic Valley until they are grown,” the queen said. “Her mother is gone, not one to live forever, but the girl chose to stay. Quite lovely now, isn’t she?”

Reardon watched Liam turn to look at the arriving caravan pouring into the courtyard, one young woman clearly catching his attention, though she must look so different from when he’d last seen her.

She was beautiful. A half-elf with dark hair and large almond eyes.

When Reardon looked back at Liam, Shayla had joined him, and she held his hand as he stared in awe until his eyes met those of his daughter. She must have recognized him, her expression placid at first, tense, but when she—Joslyn, Reardon remembered—smiled in hopeful encouragement, Liam and Shayla went to see her.

“Reardon?”

Reardon turned back, realizing he’d been left at the bottom of the steps, and hurried inside the castle after Jack, who was picking at the edges of the cloak. “Oh! Of course. You need to dress. I’ll run to my room as well and meet you in the hall?”

Jack nodded and drew Reardon in close to kiss him. Mavis was gazing at Reardon fondly when Jack headed away.

Everything was as it should be, Reardon’s friends all around him, embracing and talking happily, still waiting to pounce and embrace him once he ventured from the Fairy Queen’s side. They tried to pounce on Jack, but while he accepted a few half hugs on his way to his chambers, he begged to be allowed to get clothes on first.

Reardon smiled, but one question still plagued him before he could leave the queen. “Lands can be cursed with immortality. Could you give that to a person, but you simply refused Lombard?”

“I could,” she said, taking him by the elbow and leading him away from the entrance that would soon be filled with others, “but nothing comes without a price.”

“But you are immortal no matter where you tread?”

“Yes.” She smiled cryptically.

“Other elves only live forever if they are on your lands. What makes you different? Just your type of magic?”

“I’ll tell you a secret, Reardon.” She leaned in especially close to whisper, “I’m not an elf.”

Reardon jerked back. “You are a fairy!”

“No.” She laughed. “There are other things in this world—and outside of it. Does it matter what I am if this is who I want you to see?”

She clearly had no intention of divulging what she truly was, but Reardon couldn’t help a wave of curiosity. Maybe someday he would learn the truth, but regardless, with the promise of all he had ahead of him, he bowed and answered plainly, “It doesn’t matter what anyone is, only who they choose to be.”

JACK TOOKlonger than he should have getting ready, dirty from being outside naked in the snow and wanting the warmth of a hot bath before he changed. It was surreal, knowing the sun shone outside.

For once, he wished his private chambers had windows.

Part of him kept waiting to wake from a long dream, and it would be that morning all over again, only Reardon wouldn’t heroically come to his rescue and change everything with a kiss.

But Jack never startled awake. Reardon had changed everything and ended the curse with the simple press of sweet lips and a love he had chosen to embrace against all odds.

Jack dressed in the blue-and-silver doublet Reardon had made for him, donning his crown and heading through the secret tunnels at last, where he could hear much merriment the closer he drew to the hall. He was last to arrive at the head table. Additional chairs had been added to accommodate every court member and their consort, including a seat beside Jack’s for his prince.

“You found it,” Jack said, taking in what Reardon wore. He had almost forgotten he left the green-and-gold doublet in Reardon’s wardrobe.

Reardon flew into his arms as wholeheartedly as he had when they were first reunited.

Then everyone else did too.

“Oh Jack!” Josie embraced him next, as radiant as ever in a golden gown.

Barclay was dressed rather princely himself, in clothing that bore more of Josie’s previously spun gold thread, but he was more reserved toward his king and merely clasped Jack’s forearm.

Liam and Zephyr held no such reservations and clobbered Jack from either side. Zephyr looked like a true courtier again, prim and stately, and Liam wore robes of opulent purple.

Shayla was there then to bow and kiss Jack’s cheek, in matching purple to Liam’s, though she remained in trousers instead of a skirt. Nigel didn’t bother with a bow or curtsy, wearing even more varied colors for his mismatched clothing than usual, but he kissed Jack’s cheek all the same, to which Jack laughed.

He expected Branwen to do no more than pat his shoulder, but his master of arms drew him in for a crushing hug, pulling Caitlin along with him to crush Jack further. They were dressed grandly too, taking this as the celebration it was, with Caitlin’s brunette hair done up in pinned curls.

Reardon returned to Jack’s side after he had been thoroughly accosted by everyone else. Jack took his seat and tugged Reardon onto his lap.

“Jack!” Reardon said with a blush, but Jack kissed him—his cheek, the side of his mouth, his lips directly, and willed Reardon’s embarrassment away.

“My prince may do as he pleases, but his king would like him to stay right here.”

A smile from Reardon still lit up the hall like no candlelight ever could.

The others took their seats. There was an extra-extra chair beside Liam.

For his daughter.

The lovely half-elf looked overwhelmed to have been invited to join them, but then, Liam looked overwhelmed as well and happy for it.

Jack realized that who he had expected to be at the table was not.

“What of the Fairy—” he began, but as soon as he looked out at the hall, he saw her.

Moving through their great gathered masses, she floated like her namesake, creating extra tables and chairs with mere waves of her hands, until the room was near bursting with people from all three kingdoms, yet there was room enough for everyone.

Her consort sat amongst the people, not at all put out that there wasn’t room at the head table. There was feasting and drinking as grandly as if it were evening, though it was barely midday.

Reardon wriggled to get out of Jack’s hold when food was served, but Jack clung to him stubbornly.

“Jack!” Reardon protested again with a giggle. “This is very sweet, but I can’t eat here, and I’m starved. I’ll have you know that dying is very hunger-inducing.”

That shouldn’t have been funny, but Jack laughed and let Reardon go. “Fair enough.” It still warmed him and his melted heart whenever Reardon cast him a loving gaze.

As they were settled now, Barclay reached over to pat Reardon’s shoulder—and immediately let out a gasp. Anxiety cloyed at Jack’s chest where his thawed heart was far too tender to take bad news.

“Anything I should know about?” Reardon asked, the twitch of his smile betraying that he was wary too.

“Yes,” Barclay said, smiling without guile. “You are going to be a great king. Your father awaits you back home for coronation.”

Reardon’s face lit up even more brightly, learning truly that his father was well despite Lombard’s scheming. Then his expression dropped. “I’ll have to leave… won’t I?”

“True,” Josie interjected, “but kingdoms join forces through marriage all the time. A few days travel isn’t too far between homes.”

“I think that means we have ourselves an engagement celebration!” the Fairy Queen declared.

She had finished making room for everyone in the hall and approached Jack and his court as though gliding on air.

“Perhaps for more than one wedding.” She cast her conniving gaze down the full length of the head table, until she caught the eye of a madly grinning Nigel. “Bard! Let me teach you something new for the occasion.” After striding closer to where he sat, she leaned over the table and tapped him on the nose, causing his eyes to light up as if he had been given a great gift.

Nigel jumped to his feet and leapt right up onto the table. “Shall we hear of immortal love between two unlikely souls?”

The room hushed abruptly, and then someone cheered, and an echo of encouragement followed from the Sapphire subjects, who knew Nigel’s talents well. Zephyr, beside him, looked equally exasperated and admiring.

Nigel began a steady beat upon the tabletop, and others stomped or pounded their tables in kind to lead him into his verse.

“Our tale begins, alas, with strength, which many seek to gain,

but sometimes power births its spawn before it’s split in twain.

“A creature born of magic wild may seem corrupt et al,

but aren’t we all wild magic born when set upon our call?

“Our hero, almost villain told, fell madly into love.

Not once did this wild creature think of happiness thereof.

“Tragedy did follow thus,

love’s road is tough for all,

but a hero knows no right or left,

only forward toward their fall.

“Into love,

into tragedy,

but all we ever need.

“The hero called defeat and vowed to make a great amends,

assuming love would never rise to mend their heart again.

“Yet oh, the fates have other plans for those who beat the odds,

and love will find its way again when power finds a cause.

“This power might have culled the lands but chose to be a balm,

and in their worthy sacrifice, they found a brighter song.

“In their love,

in their destiny,

who finally came to be.

“So, heed this tale

for where you fall

may not be all they sing.”

Nigel ended with the usual flourish and deep bow, sending the room into uproarious applause. Once he jumped back down from the table, he blinked as if he had been in a sort of trance but smiled and took his seat to a sweet kiss on the cheek from his love.

“Was that your story?” Reardon asked the Fairy Queen, who remained standing in front of their table. Reardon had seemed enamored but also clearly affected by the depressing nature of the tale that eventually led to a happy end for a creature not quite human—or elf or otherwise.

“Perhaps,” she said, “but the best fairy tales are not told merely once.” She bowed, and then turned to descend back to the people, taking a seat beside her prince.

She was certainly enigmatic, but what mattered to Jack was his own happy end seated beside him.

They feasted and enjoyed themselves, seeing so much warmth and comradery between everyone. The harpsichord was still against the wall, and before long, music filled the hall as well. When the food was gone and only wine and ale poured, the tables were pushed aside to make room for dancing. Eventually, even the members of the court went down to dance with the others.

Jack hesitated, not because he would ever deny himself the opportunity to hold Reardon close, but because he wanted to look upon his people, mingled with others he never thought he would see here.

When Reardon pulled him from the head table, Jack went with him but sat them down at the edge of the elevated stage to survey the merrymaking.

Branwen, who had once been thought too brutish to be a kingdom’s master of arms, was delicately twirling Caitlin, a woman who had been preceded by the title of “widow” for so long, Jack never would have thought he’d see her smile with the rosy glow of new beginnings in her cheeks.

Shayla was dancing with Liam’s daughter, though they snatched Liam by the wrists to force him to join them. He had a chance to make up for what he had once neglected, and Shayla, a starving thief, would never go hungry from lack of food or love again.

Zephyr was as drunk as Jack had ever seen him. Although once he’d been exiled by his parents simply for wanting the company of another man, now he was starting to untie Nigel’s shirt right there on the dance floor. And Nigel didn’t need to use his tricks or bardic tales against others, he needed only to make them smile.

Jack’s own sister, Josie, who had followed him in his selfish ways, now cared far more for her people and the man on her arm than she ever had for fancy dresses and jewels. Barclay would make a fine addition to their family, the seer who’d lost his own only to find another in his banishment. The pair was taking a break from dancing to talk with some of the Emerald soldiers.

Oliver had Amelia in his lap, both warmed by ale and telling some story or another to elves from the Mystic Valley. The fletcher hadn’t been the same spoiled rich boy who first darkened Jack’s doorstep in decades, but Jack could see the added ease in his expression at the thought of being able to visit his home city again someday.

It was as raucous as any party Jack and his court had thrown when they were squandering the kingdom’s wealth for their own pleasures, only this was how it should have been, for the people and earned.

Jack even spared a kind eye for Raphael, dancing with Wynn, who he’d snatched up as soon as Wynn took a break and let someone else play the harpsichord for a while.

The Fairy Queen and her prince were dancing too, as if they were the only ones out there—though when the prince caught Jack’s eye, Jack couldn’t help winking, and the handsome blond laughed and lost his footing.

To think, once Jack would have chased after a man like him, after any man who caught his eye without care or consequence, yet now he couldn’t bear the thought of being with anyone but the man beside him.

When Jack finally turned from the crowd, Reardon was gazing back at him. His sweet Emerald Prince reached a hand toward him to wipe away a tear that Jack hadn’t even realized had formed. It was a happy tear, because this was what his kingdom should have been from the beginning, but it had taken a long time for him to understand what being a good king meant.

“You are so beautiful,” Reardon said, “but I thought as much when the scars remained.”

“I know. It was a thoughtful gift.” Jack nodded at the Fairy Queen. “Since she caused more scars than she intended. But my hair is still white.”

“Perhaps that is a gift for me.” Reardon coiled a finger through a fallen strand. “It was the first thing I ever saw of you, just a glimpse over my shoulder when we were in the bath. Now I could look upon you forever.”

“That… is an option.”

“Well, the queen did call this an engagement party.”

“She did. And you, Reardon, would you be my king and I yours to unite our kingdoms? Do you think they could handle that?”

Reardon shifted to look out at the others. “If you’d asked me that before I spent those few days at home, I’d have said no, I don’t think my people are ready. But when I spoke the truth to them and begged their aid against Lombard, they answered my call. Not all of them, granted. There will be dissenters, but we have to start somewhere.”

With a gentle touch at Reardon’s cheek, Jack drew his attention back to him. “Then I’ll ask again: Would you be my king and I yours?”

“Yes.” Reardon’s smile brightened.

“And would you want forever, truly, as the Fairy Queen could offer it?”

“I… I think so, knowing that should we ever grow weary of this world, we could simply wander to new lands and begin a different adventure. What say you, then?”

“Yes,” Jack answered, “I would like nothing better.” He kissed Reardon, and the music and loud chatter dimmed like a distant background swell.

They kissed so long and deeper by the moment, that when they finally parted, Reardon was panting.

“Would you… care to dance, my king?”

“Yes, but elsewhere.”

Jack didn’t give Reardon time to ask what he meant. He took Reardon’s hand and stood, and instead of dropping down to the main floor to join the others, he pulled him into the tunnels.

REARDON MARVELEDat the throne room when they reached it. Jack had melted, the court members all flesh and blood too, but he hadn’t thought the places once touched by the Ice King would melt as well.

The room was cool, for it was still vast and made of stone, but it was a soothing cool instead of chilling. The throne wasn’t a throne anymore without a coating of ice to make it imposing, simple in design like Jack’s chair in the hall, instead of the grand throne in Jack’s chambers.

Jack took a breath and surveyed the room as if he hadn’t truly taken it all in when he came up here to change. “I suppose it’s time to move my true throne out here again. Although, if you’re going to be king with me, we’ll need one for you as well.”

Reardon moved into Jack’s body and took his hands. “I think we can both fit. Shall we test it out?”

“I thought you wanted to dance,” Jack teased.

“True.” Reardon encircled Jack’s waist with his arms, feeling Jack encircle him in kind, and led them into a slow sway. “In the place we first met.”

Jack pressed his cheek to Reardon’s. “Indeed. But we haven’t any music.”

“Well then….” Reardon cleared his throat.

“And the thief cried on,

Swallowed up by greed,

But the hungry maw

Had enough.

“So, beware the vice that will feed the story’s end,

for the next year comes again too soon….”

Jack pulled Reardon out in front of him and sang the end, “And the Ice King sings the final tune.”

Reardon laughed. “I suppose we’ll need to change the words, since only that last line is true.”

“I’m sure you and Nigel are up to the task. Now come—” Jack backed them toward his private chambers. “—let’s see if we can fit on that throne.”

Reardon didn’t think Jack was being serious—Reardon hadn’t been serious when he suggested it—but once they entered the chambers, Jack led them straight to his desk and to the ornate throne behind it.

Which afforded Reardon a clear view into the bedroom.

“You don’t have a bed!” he exclaimed.

“I’ve been sleeping on yours. We’ll have to end there all the same tonight, but first….” Jack sat Reardon down, which confused him, until Jack squeezed in between the desk and Reardon’s legs and dropped to his knees in front of him. “We can worry about fitting in that chair in a moment.”

Seeing Jack in the dark of Reardon’s bedroom their last night together couldn’t compare with seeing him now, in a room fully lit, as his beautiful hands untied Reardon’s trousers and pulled him out right there on Jack’s throne. There was reverence in the act but also want, deep and fully focused on Reardon with Jack’s eyes on him.

Blue eyes in a sea of white.

The white was more a frame around his handsomely tanned face now. The truth of Barclay’s vision had been what Reardon chose for himself to save his love.

A love whose soft lips parted now, drawing Reardon in between them, a king on his knees for Reardon, licking and sucking on Reardon’s length and spurring him to hardness.

Reardon’s instinct was to flutter his eyes closed at the warmth, but he didn’t want to look away now that he could truly, fully see Jack.

He watched his handsome king swallow him down until Jack’s nose touched the base of Reardon’s curls. Reardon reached with his own reverence to run his fingers through Jack’s hair. A crown of white gold and sapphires sat upon Jack’s head, glittering from the many lamps in the room.

“Perhaps it should sit upon your head, my little prince,” Jack husked with warm breath on Reardon’s tip, and then licked slowly up his length to make him shiver.

Reardon felt like he could melt. Neither of them had enjoyed more than a few sips of wine, the flush inside him building from something far better.

He plucked the crown from Jack’s head and set it upon his own, heavier than the gold diadem he sometimes wore at home. This freed him to dig his fingers that much deeper into Jack’s hair, soft as silk and white as the winter snow, encouraging Jack in his careful work bobbing up and down Reardon’s cock.

It had been too long, Reardon wound as tight as an artisan’s clock about to burst its gears. He’d been nothing but a bundle of anxiety, and now, finally, here was salvation.

But he didn’t want to be saved too soon.

“Jack,” Reardon panted, feeling Jack’s warm hands at his hips, holding him steady.

Jack seemed to understand and pulled away, but continued to lightly lick at Reardon between words, while also undoing the ties of Reardon’s doublet and sliding his hands up beneath his undershirt as if desperate to touch him. “I am going to worship you as you deserve. You kept your word.” Jack kissed Reardon’s belly, Reardon’s doublet falling open and his shirt drawn up by slow, precise hands. “You saved me, came back to me, even sewed and sang for me.” Jack rumbled a laugh before licking up between Reardon’s pecs, and then leaned in to kiss his lips.

He soon dropped back to his knees, returning to Reardon’s trousers to pull them down his legs. Reardon lifted his hips to allow it, watching his boots get removed, then the trousers, but not expecting Jack’s sudden return to swallow Reardon down—once, twice. Then Jack slowed to gentle sucking, as he brought his fingers to Reardon’s lips and prodded for entrance.

Reardon opened his mouth to pull in Jack’s fingers, rolling them across his tongue. He coated them wetly, enjoying the feel of them in his mouth, while simultaneously being sucked on with slower and slower bobs.

“Jack,” Reardon whined with a plaintive drop of his head against the throne when the fingers fell from his lips.

“As you wish,” Jack said and tilted Reardon’s hips so that his feet left the floor, finding purchase on the edge of the throne and presenting Reardon boldly before Jack, where he brought those wet fingers down.

Reardon trembled at the first tease of a fingertip circling him, slick only from his own mouth but enough to ease its way inside. The hums and moans that left him as Jack sought to stretch him open were impossible to stifle.

“I’ve missed those sounds filling this room.” Jack pressed a kiss to Reardon’s thighs, licked around the heavy drop of his balls above his entrance, and when Reardon tightened at a deeper thrust of a finger, Jack added a lick and sweet suck at Reardon’s tip.

Reardon tightened again, and then relaxed and opened further at the prospect of what came next.

“Does my little prince want more?” Jack flicked the tip of his tongue at Reardon’s head, twisting a second finger inside and spreading them apart in tandem.

“Please….” Reardon quaked.

At last, Jack pulled away and stood, leaving Reardon shaking with his feet propped. The ties of Jack’s trousers were deftly undone, the garment dropping and being kicked away, and his boots kicked away as well, but while he also untied his doublet, he merely let it fall open, his thick and heavy cock bobbing just beneath the line of his shirt and dripping at the tip.

Jack stroked it, smoothing the wetness up his length, and jutted his hips toward Reardon in offering. Reardon righted himself on the throne, feet dropping down so he could suck his king’s cock as eagerly as he had sucked his fingers.

While the taste was the same, the view made it so much better than when Reardon only had darkness as a guide. He could swallow Jack down and look up his smooth, firm chest at those beautiful eyes looking down at him. Jack’s lips had the most mesmerizing curve with a tiny, smug smile, shimmering with wetness.

Reardon sucked and sucked and opened his throat to bury his nose as deeply as Jack had with him, loving the fullness it gave him and the promise of being further filled in due time.

“And how… would my king… like to have me?” Reardon spoke between teasing licks.

“Together on our throne, of course.” Jack halted him and left the close quarters of being behind the desk. “I’ll be but a moment. Stand, remove your doublet and shirt, but keep the crown.”

A tremor pulsed through Reardon at the order. His footing wavered when he stood, but by the time Jack returned, Reardon had complied. Jack’s shirt and doublet were gone now too, and he held one of the bottles of bath oils.

Reardon made room for Jack to sit this time and accepted the oil when Jack handed it to him. Like this, Reardon could see all of Jack, naked and full before him, and had the pleasure of coating his love while touching him anywhere he wanted.

Reardon didn’t waste a moment, pouring the oil on Jack’s tip to dribble down his cock and coating it with a swift hand, while exploring with the other. The feel of Jack’s skin was different without the scars. Reardon had mapped the feel of him in his mind, and now the terrain was new, but no less beautiful, no less desirable, and all his.

He wanted Jack to know how stunning he found him and took his time tracing every muscle, curve, and divot, stroking Jack all the while, until he could handle it no longer and had to have Jack inside him.

There were no arms to the throne, so climbing atop Jack to join him was a simple act. Reardon spread his legs to straddle his king and used one hand on Jack’s cock to guide him in where he had already been slicked and open.

The scent of a forest clearing with a field of flowers, the feel of Jack tight and devoured within Reardon, the connection of their thighs and Reardon’s hand pressing to Jack’s chest over his heart to a steady, warm beat, were but a prelude to experiencing this with their eyes locked.

“You see… my king,” Reardon huffed, sheathing himself completely and basking in the fullness of being with his love, “we fit.”

YOU DON’T deserve this, tried to chorus in Jack’s mind, but damn those thoughts, because Jack did, and he would do everything in his power to continue proving it.

He thrust up into the heat of Reardon, not feeling any of the shame or self-hatred he always thought he would to have someone’s eyes on him, and he knew that, even if his scars remained, he would feel the same. He wanted Reardon’s focus, his adoration, his lithely moving body rocking atop him on their throne.

Reardon kept touching him, a hand over his heart, on his cheek, in his hair. He was no amateur any longer, but moved slowly, muscles tightening in tempo, his thighs wide and clamped around Jack’s hips. He used the hold he had on Jack’s hair to tilt Jack’s head and kiss his neck with an open mouth, licking and biting lightly enough to fill Jack with tremors.

Holding Reardon around his waist as they rocked in synchronization, Jack enjoyed the minutes ticking by with neither of them hurrying toward an end. That slow rhythm couldn’t last, however, and when Reardon drew close, his pace increased, and he leaned back enough to grasp one of Jack’s hands at his waist and bring it between his legs.

Jack gripped Reardon hard, pumping through the wetness already leaking down his shaft, and with each increased breath and added whine released to the air, Reardon hastened and clenched and finally cried out a beautiful litany of praises.

When, after several moments, Jack had yet to follow him, Reardon lifted Jack’s soiled hand to his lips and licked his own release from Jack’s fingers.

Jack came almost instantly, feeling and seeing the filthy slide of that silver tongue. Barbed at times too, Reardon’s tongue had charmed him as much as it had scolded him. Jack kissed the taste of Reardon right off that tongue and wrapped Reardon in his arms.

No stable boy had ever made Jack’s heart flutter with the same intensity. This young prince would be Jack’s king, the one who’d saved him, who’d believed he could save himself, and who never lost hope no matter how many times Jack pushed him away.

“I love you,” Jack said, whispering against damp lips.

“I love you,” Reardon echoed, still panting. “And loving you, my dear Jack, is more than enough.”

The words were almost chiding, as if to say, I told you I’d be right, but Jack didn’t mind. It was enough, and he was glad to have been proven wrong.

He might not have a bed, but he did have his bath, and once they had grown tired of their sticky embrace with lazy kisses having passed between them, he coaxed Reardon to get up so they could clean themselves and soak.

“Are we going to while away the rest of the day here?” Reardon asked.

“For a bit.” Jack no longer needed to keep Reardon faced away from him, but he still held him against his chest, arms wrapped around him from behind. “Then we can rejoin the others in their merriment.”

“And if they ask where we got off to?”

“We’ll tell the truth,” Jack said, grinning when Reardon turned to him with a wry expression. “We were consummating our engagement.”

REARDON KNEWthe road ahead would not be without its challenges. Finally returning home afforded him many a dark, wary, or disgusted look from his people, some even daring to spit at the feet of his horse. But those were the minority, for most cheered to see their prince alive with no disaster following in his wake.

He did, however, have a king riding beside him, whose white hair despite a young face made whispers spread quickly. Once they reached the palace, it was clear that everyone knew their prince had returned with the Ice King.

Let them stare and whisper and wonder, Reardon thought. All he cared about was seeing his father.

He leapt from his horse and rushed to meet him, embracing his father tightly on the palace steps. Master Wells was there amid the court physicians, for Henry did appear weak, however revitalized.

“It will take some days yet for the poison to fully leave me, but I am well, my beautiful boy, all because you are a sweet, stubborn prince who refused to admit defeat.”

Reardon laughed, because he couldn’t deny that he had made it this far largely due to stubbornness. “Father, this is King John of the Sapphire Kingdom,” Reardon introduced when Jack dismounted and came to join them. Henry bowed, as did Jack, but Reardon did not mean for this meeting to be formal. “He is also Jack, my betrothed.”

Henry looked startled, though not dissenting as Reardon feared. “That is… truly what you want, my son?”

“It is. I will accept my responsibilities as king, but I also have a responsibility to our neighbors, to our people shunned and wrongly called witch or banished, and to my love and all the friends I made. Don’t think too terribly of me for being selfish that I want a love as potent as what you had with Mother.”

“Never,” Henry said with a weak but caring smile. His hand quivered slightly as he reached for Reardon’s face. “I missed her so much, I didn’t think of what my mourning cost. I fought for nothing but the voices of the loudest, forgetting that those without a voice need their king too. Now that you are home, I can rest easy.

“I am guessing you both have much to tell me. Come. Let us leave prying eyes and ears to themselves.”

Not once did Henry rebuke Reardon when he explained all that had transpired and what he wanted for the future. It was only the three of them in Henry’s private rooms, with Jack having been welcomed in like any neighboring king should be.

“This is your kingdom, Reardon,” Henry said, “and I know your mother would be proud of what you wish to do with it. I only wish I had been brave enough to do more myself, but know how proud I am as well that you will be a far better king than I ever was, no matter who is by your side or how you fight for what you believe in.”

It was all Reardon had hoped to hear, and he grasped Jack’s hand as they sat before his father united. “That warms me greatly, but I was hoping you would continue to be King Regent when I spend time in the Sapphire Kingdom, as Jack’s sister will be Queen-Regent when we are here.”

“If you so wish it,” Henry answered with a smile.

“Should the time come when you no longer want that title, we will let the people decide who will be regent and who might one day succeed us. It is all going to be very different, and some might speak against us, fight or rally, even simply leave. I am no longer going to fear that. This is my kingdom—ours—” Reardon squeezed Jack’s hand. “—and we’re going to make it a better one.”

The surrealness of having Jack with him in Emerald, human and vibrant, was almost like a dream, seeing him speaking with Henry and getting along easily, or showing him around the city to many stares that eventually became excitement.

Elves and half-elves were no longer hiding themselves, and many, after a time, came up to Jack to ask the truth of his story and his castle. Those that heard it looked relieved to know that no one undeserving had died since the first sacrifice was sent to Jack’s door. Reardon was even able to watch the lost soldier who Liam had zapped from existence reunite with his mother, though Reardon wished the younger soldier that Lombard killed could have had the same homecoming.

It was a start, despite the less hospitable glares and whispers that followed them, and nothing would change that Reardon and Jack’s kingdoms were going to be joined with the marriage of king and king.

Once, Reardon thought he’d loathe his future royal wedding. Now it filled him with joy, penning invitations to send throughout Emerald, in Sapphire, the Mystic Valley, and other lands beyond, for all were welcome if they chose to celebrate the joining of the two Gemstone Kingdoms.

Reardon and Jack didn’t stay in Emerald long, however, for Reardon wanted their wedding in the castle where they met.

“Shall we go, my little prince?” Jack asked the morning they planned to depart. Henry and many others would traverse to Sapphire for the wedding, but for now, it was a small party setting out.

David, the castle guard, had insisted on being Reardon’s personal escort, though this time his Robert would be joining them.

Wells was joining the caravan as well, partly to meet Liam and trade alchemy secrets, but also to see Barclay and apologize to him in person.

Perhaps Barclay’s family would venture to Sapphire someday, when it was his wedding to attend. Reardon hoped they would, though he knew Barclay was plenty fulfilled with the family he had found.

“I suppose I should start calling you my little king,” Jack amended.

“Do you know what I realize standing close to you?” Reardon pursed his lips. “I’m taller. Not by much, but that name only worked when you towered over me. I am hardly a ‘little’ anything compared to you now.”

Jack leaned in close to whisper at Reardon’s ear, “Little king it is.”

Reardon would have laughed if Jack didn’t steal the sound with a kiss—right there in the streets of Emerald. It was freeing to no longer be afraid of that.

They were about to mount their horses when something caught Reardon’s eye. The carriages from the Shadow Lands were in the square. They had already been unloaded, and the merchants were finishing reloading trade goods for the trip back.

“One moment,” Reardon said to Jack and hurried over to one of the carriages before it could depart. He wasn’t afraid of the black horses or lack of visible drivers. He had learned well that nothing was as it seemed.

So he placed one of the wedding invitations with the goods being sent off and penned a quick note in addition, asking if the young man he had sent there had arrived safely and been welcomed. Perhaps, someday, they could finally learn the truth of their other neighbors as well.

“I’m ready now.” Reardon rejoined Jack and their convoy with a smile. “For whatever happens next.”

SEVERAL WEEKS EARLIER

LEVI HIDhis face with the hood of his cloak before entering the market. He didn’t think himself ugly, but compared to everyone else here, surely he was almost…

Ordinary.

He crept down the stone steps into the market square. Behind him was the entrance archway, covered in a black glittering awning with two glowing crystals in silver sconces on either side. These crystals were warm orangey-red, though light sources throughout the Dark Kingdom could be many colors. Crystals in lampposts along the market path were green, blue, even violet like the Source Crystal in the town square at the center of the market.

Farther behind where Levi came from, someone ascending the steps could turn left toward the residential area or right toward the trees. The long road through the townsfolk’s houses eventually led to the Shadow King’s castle. The other direction passed by Braxton’s tower at the edge of the wood, where Levi lived.

Braxton Leviathan was Levi’s master. His creator. It was difficult sometimes being only a few weeks old, but Braxton insisted that Levi’s shyness would one day fade. That’s why Braxton had tasked Levi with doing the shopping, and because using steps was difficult for the enigmatic inventor.

As Levi descended the long stone staircase, the voices of the bustling people below were welcoming, as if it was a midday bazaar. But there was no day in the Shadow Lands. Eternal night shone above, with ever-present stars and a never-waning full moon.

Levi didn’t know what day looked like. Many people who lived in the Dark Kingdom had never seen it, and those who existed before the curse that had changed these lands barely remembered what the warmth of the sun felt like. Levi only knew “sun” and “day” existed because he had been told.

“Newest silks from Emerald!” a man at one of the first stalls shouted as soon as Levi reached the bottom. The merchant had the appearance of a fish with bulging eyes, though his fins were still shaped into something like webbed fingers, and he had legs, as well as gills on his neck to prove he could leap right into the Black Lake and not resurface until he wished it. “Who knows if the next carriage will contain more! Get it while you can!”

Levi pulled his hood lower and scurried away. He was meant to engage the sellers, for how else could he conquer his shyness, but did they have to be so loud?

“Careful!” a woman with a forked tongue hissed at Levi when he nearly ran into her. Unlike the fish-man, she had no legs but moved like an upright snake, a naga with slit eyes and hair plaited as though made of scales like the rest of her.

“S-sorry!” Levi hurried onward, trying to keep his face hidden while taking more care with where he was going. He liked the people, the swarm of them here, all so different, never two exactly alike, but it was also overwhelming when any of them paid attention to him.

He’d start with Daedlys’s shop like usual to calm himself. Daedlys spoke in a naturally pleasant whisper—as long as he wasn’t screaming, but he didn’t scream often since it could be painful to others, being a banshee. Plus, Daedlys was friendly and had doted on Levi ever since he first ventured out of the tower.

“If it isn’t our sweet Stitches,” Daedlys said like an echo on the wind when Levi entered the shop. As a general store with many various wares, it was one of the few businesses inside a building rather than a stall.

Levi threw his hood back when he saw that no one else was inside, revealing his red hair, wavy and messy, that curled around his slightly pointed ears.

Daedlys could see through things anyway with his pit-like black eyes. The banshee had long white hair, his face gaunt and body thin, fading where feet should have been to a wisp almost like the tail of the naga woman outside, though Daedlys floated, translucent, wearing an equally translucent black robe. Daedlys could wear anything, but whatever he put on his body became as see-through as he was.

“Hello, Sir Daedlys. I have a list today,” Levi said, carefully pulling it from his cloak. Usually he kept his hands hidden, too, while trekking through the market, afraid that someone might find his blue skin or the stitches holding his parts together off-putting, but Daedlys had called him “Stitches” with a smile ever since they met. It made Levi less self-conscious of his appearance while in this shop.

“Lyssy, my love?” Daedlys’s husband, Klarent, called before entering from the back.

Klarent almost seemed to float too, though that was because his tentacles carried him across the floor. His arms were also made of tentacles, three each that worked in tandem like large fingers. Tentacles made up what might have been hair as well and covered his face like a beard. Levi distinctly heard a voice, however, not one in his mind, so he knew a mouth had to exist beneath the tendrils somewhere.

“Levi!” Klarent exclaimed when he saw him, loud perhaps but cordial, and not so loud that Levi shrank back or regretted removing his hood.

Levi remembered how surprised he’d been to discover the two were married, given the vast difference between their species, but then, everyone in the Dark Kingdom was a different species.

“Perhaps you can offer your opinion as one untainted by too much life experience.” Klarent approached Levi, holding out a beautifully bound tome edged in gold with a depiction of the Source Crystal on the front.

“Tainted, he calls me,” Daedlys scoffed.

Klarent waved at him in dismissal, focusing on Levi. “What do you think?” He coiled a tentacle toward the cover, and the painted picture of the crystal glowed with violet light like the real thing. “Too ostentatious?”

Not everyone in the Dark Kingdom could cast magic. Levi could only minimally, being a construct. Even fewer understood alchemy the way Braxton did, but enough were attuned to magic to keep the crystals glowing so that it was never dark in the land of night.

Levi might have guessed that the Source Crystal itself gave illumination to the other crystals, but the great amethyst was the source of the kingdom’s curse, not its magic or light.

That was another reason why Levi kept his face hidden, because his eyes glowed violet like the crystal.

“It’s lovely, Sir Klarent,” Levi said. “What does this one chronicle?”

“Why, the story of the Source Crystal and the curse that afflicts our lands, of course, and how King Ashmedai rallied the people when we might have descended into chaos. I think this shall be a gift for him come Festival Day.”

“Suck-up,” Daedlys muttered fondly.

Klarent turned on him with a huff that upset his mouth tendrils. “I am the official chronicler of our history!”

“Which you appointed yourself a few hundred years ago. And we have endless accounts of the night of the curse, my love—most by you.”

“Am I not allowed to make improvements over the years? After all, some things get better with age.”

It was only playful banter, Levi knew, for he had experienced the pair many times now and was not surprised when Klarent coiled his arm tentacles toward his husband, slithering them up and around his ghostly form so that Daedlys seemed to emanate bits of mist wherever he was touched.

“Darling! Not when we have a customer.”

Klarent laughed. “What are your thoughts then, Lyssy? Too much?”

Daedlys shivered with a ripple of his form that almost made him disappear. “I think the glow is a nice touch.”

“Thank you.”

They were like one being for a moment, not kissing or embracing exactly, but something unique to them and equally as intimate, before Klarent released Daedlys.

That sort of closeness seemed such a precious thing to Levi, and he wondered if he’d ever get to experience it.

“Gather whatever you need, sweet Stitches.” Daedlys returned his attention to Levi. “I know Braxton is good for any trades. What’s he have for me today?”

Levi removed the item from his pack and set it before Daedlys and Klarent on a nearby table. It was a black crystal that Braxton had crafted with alchemy.

“Brace yourselves a moment,” Levi warned. He touched the crystal, and all the other crystals inside the shop went dark, plunging them into shadow. Levi touched the crystal again and the light returned.

“Fascinating!” Klarent declared.

“Master Braxton said he can make more for you to trade at the shop if you like it,” Levi said.

“A master switch to dim every crystal in a room?” Daedlys carefully studied the black crystal, which was no larger than a goblet.

“Within the walls of any building, more than just a room.”

Daedlys stared until the black of his eyes mirrored the black brilliance of the crystal. “Every home will want one,” he said breathlessly. “You bet I’ll take more. Pick out something for yourself while you’re at it. This is the best invention yet!” He snatched the crystal up, though touching it this time did not sink them into darkness.

“You must will the lights to darken, so there’s no risk of setting it off accidentally,” Levi explained, refilling his pack with the supplies on Braxton’s list and then hoisting it over his shoulder again as he began to look around the room with more scrutiny.

There were always wondrous things in this shop, but food and supplies were plentiful elsewhere. What caught Levi’s eye were fabrics and jewelry and all the ways he might make himself look more like a denizen of the Shadow Lands instead of a newborn creation.

“I should chronicle this,” Klarent said, watching Daedlys inspect the crystal, and then setting his tome aside to gather paper and a quill and sit at the desk where he did the shop’s bookkeeping. “Braxton invents so much, I can hardly keep track.”

Only half paying them as much mind, Levi tentatively touched a violet tunic on display. “Is this silk from Emerald?”

“Indeed it is. Don’t listen to Gordoc at the steps,” Daedlys said. “There’s plenty of silk yet and more likely to come with the next carriage. You go right ahead and claim that, darling. It would look lovely on you.”

The tunic was far more ostentatious than anything Levi had worn before, with long sleeves edged in silver thread. It was slightly longer on the left and right sides, where it would drape near his knees, almost like a skirt, bound together at the collar with deep purple cord, and bearing a hood with similar silver embroidery as the sleeves.

“Claim a belt as well,” Daedlys added.

“Oh!” Levi snapped back from touching the tunic. “I can’t actually take this. Master Braxton—”

“Can let you indulge if I’m offering. He treats you too much like a servant. Honestly, just because he made you in his lab.”

But Levi was a servant. It was his place. He owed his life to his maker.

He wasn’t planning on taking the tunic or a belt, but at the last second, he shoved both into his bag, just as the shop door opened to admit someone new.

On instinct, Levi drew up his hood. Everyone knew about him, he just… didn’t like the way most people stared.

“Ash!” Klarent proclaimed. “We were just talking about you.”

Levi’s eyes snapped to the man who had entered.

Ashmedai.

The Shadow King.

Every time Levi saw him, it was as if his stitched-together limbs were about to unravel, and he felt both unable to move and as if he might collapse to the ground in pieces at any moment.

The king was just so beautiful. Levi didn’t even know if he understood beauty, but to him, Ash was it.

His skin was white as bone, his hair long, straight, and ebony black, with black in place of the whites of his eyes and white irises. He had long nails, almost like claws, all his teeth were razor sharp, and he had pointier ears than Levi’s subtle tips, like Levi had read about elves.

Like Daedlys, Ashmedai wore all black, but with deep purple stitching and accents in purple and gold. He looked so royal, with a brocade tunic and long cloak. He wore no crown, but when he moved, the shadows moved with him, as if drawn to his regal presence.

Levi could relate.

“Daedlys, my friend, I’m afraid my sword belt is in need of mending, possibly replacement, before next week’s hunt. What do you recommend? And what’s this about talking about me?” He turned with an amused smile toward Klarent.

Ashmedai’s voice was deep and penetrating, so much so that Levi could feel it rumble through his chest. Ashmedai was king, yet he acted toward his people as though they were all equals, allowing anyone who wished it to call him “Ash” and consider him friend. From what Levi had been told, Ashmedai had always been that way, for hundreds of years, since the start of the curse, when the once Amethyst Kingdom’s prince brought calamity upon the people and Ashmedai became king in his stead to save them.

Levi watched Klarent try to inconspicuously hide the book he meant to gift Ashmedai, rising in the same motion to draw attention elsewhere.

“Why, we were saying how much you’d enjoy learning of Brax’s newest invention. Show him, my love.”

Daedlys did so, touching the black crystal he’d already set on display with intent this time and briefly shrouding them in darkness. When the lights returned, he said, “Can you imagine how convenient it will be to turn out all one’s lights at once before going to bed? Tell you what, my king, I’ll give you a deal on the first one, so long as I can keep it on display until Brax sends me more.”

Ashmedai approached the crystal, eyeing it with the same subtle smile and a curious tilt of his head. He didn’t float like the others but carried such a commanding presence in his steps, Levi’s breath was lost again and again while looking at him.

The white on black eyes Levi was staring at suddenly turned toward him, likely having felt the weight of his gaze, and all at once, Levi could move again—because he had to.

“Th-thank you, Sir Daedlys,” Levi stuttered, half muffled by the fabric of his hood. His feet reacted before he’d consciously considered running, because the panic of being perceived by the king made him desperate to get out from under those eyes.

“Hang on, Stitches, have you met—”

“Another time!” Levi all but shrieked and ducked his head to scurry from the shop, and then just as quickly fled from the market.

But that is another story.