Lord of Snow and Ice. Heather Massey

Lionel said, leaning forward. Intrigue made his heart beat faster. “Can it be… You are the Dark Prince? We’ve heard so much about you for years, but quite frankly I didn’t know if you truly existed. Amazing! Strange tales are whispered about you, my friend, not to mention your wintry kingdom.”

      Stellan paused midchew, then shrugged.

      “Nevertheless, it’s an honor to meet you.”

      Stellan nodded and then resumed eating.

      “So tell me about that, er, the mons–”

      “A moment, Lionel, if you please!” The voice cutting him short belonged to Edward, who gripped him tightly by the uninjured arm and pulled him up.

      “Uh, yes, hmm…pardon me,” he muttered, confused at the sudden interruption. Edward dragged him out of their guest’s earshot.

      “I wouldn’t advise you to get too friendly with that…with him,” Edward stated, his features locked in a troll-like scowl.

      Lionel arched a well-manicured brow. Whenever Edward bandied about phrases such as “wouldn’t advise” it was actually code for “This is an order.” Lionel, however, was no servant. “Really? On what grounds?”

      Edward’s gaze darted to their guest, who was still feasting away. His furrowed countenance left no doubt as to how he felt about their visitor. “How do we know the rascal did not guide that monstrosity here?”

      Lionel snorted. “Ha! That’s ludicrous and you know it.” He swept back a lock of hair from his face. “I had just begun an interrogation when you so hastily interrupted. Did you know he lives in Vandeborg Castle? Stellan is the very Dark Prince himself. Remember when Old Man Griffin used to tell us stories about him? ‘A magician with powers most macabre!’ And to think, you used to doubt his existence as a child.” Lionel grinned. “I seem to recall how you once wagered a full week’s chores against ever laying eyes upon him. Well there he is!” He stroked his chin. “I fear my larder has grown frightfully dusty of late. Do you think you can start on it tomorrow?”

      Edward gave Lionel a rough shake. “This isn’t a game. Think, man! Why is he here? His behavior is suspicious. Don’t forget–he’s trespassing on the King’s lands. My father will not be pleased.”

      Lionel flashed his eyes. “Is that how you plan on reporting this to the King? That he’s hunting on–oh, dare I say it?–on hunting grounds?”

      “Rubbish! The beast was cursed. This ruffian is not hunting for pleasure. I say we arrest him now and transport–ack…what?”

      Lionel had gripped Edward’s collar with his good fist. He drew him closer until they were nose to nose. “You will do nothing of the sort. This ‘ruffian’ saved my life, and probably the whole lot of us.” He gave his cousin a flabbergasted look. “And you want to arrest him for it?” Lionel shook his head. “That’s bad politics…very bad politics.” He sneered as his competitive streak reared to life again. “Let’s see how many of the men support you on this.”

      Edward pried open Lionel’s grip and took a step back. “Fine,” he retorted. “Play with your little friend if you must. But I’ll be watching his every move, and if he trespasses again, he’s mine!” With a final warning look, Edward stalked back to his seat.

      “Not if I invite him first,” Lionel called after him.

      Edward shot back his most withering glance, but Lionel merely laughed. Straightening his tunic, he resumed his seat next to Stellan.

      “He doesn’t have to like me, you know.”

      Lionel wasn’t surprised Stellan had so accurately discerned the topic of their conversation. He waved a dismissive hand. “Edward may be the King’s son and heir, but he can also be incredibly boorish and shortsighted. Don’t worry about him.”

      “I wasn’t.”

      “That makes two of us.” A yawn seized Lionel as the day’s events suddenly took their toll upon his tired body. He clapped Stellan’s shoulder and regarded him kindly. “I fear exhaustion claims me. Here we must part. Once again, I am incredibly grateful for your help today. I am in your debt, and I always repay what I owe.”

      Stellan put down his empty goblet. “It was nothing.”

      “So says you. Listen, we hunt here the last two days of every month. I invite you to join us whenever you wish as my guest.” Lionel then leaned in with a smile and added, “And as my friend.”

      Stellan nodded in thanks. “You should get some rest.” As he stood, his horse emerged from the surrounding darkness. The steed’s flowing dark mane whipped about burning blue eyes. Lionel stood in awe of its gargantuan size as Stellan deftly mounted it.

      The Dark Prince turned to Lionel with a thoughtful look. “One other thing, mind what you hunt. A scourge is upon the game you seek, and it’s quickly spreading.” After delivering his warning, Stellan whispered something into his horse’s ear. Then rider and horse took off–faster than candlelight snuffed out in a cold winter’s wind.

      Lionel, perplexed, now stood alone with his thoughts. “Scourge?” Now what exactly did he mean by that?

      

       Chapter 3

      “Thanks for inviting me.” Sarcasm dripped in torrents from the woman’s statement and seemed to slide down Lionel’s bedroom walls only to congeal onto the floor below.

      Lionel started; he hadn’t realized anyone was in his room. He pulled aside the nearest blue velvet curtain. Late afternoon sunlight rippled across the interior, revealing a petite figure propped against the matching brocade pillows on his bed. She wore a shimmering gold gown, but her mood didn’t match the luxurious fabric. Her arms were crossed and she stared petulantly up at the ceiling.

      “Fancy meeting you here, Clarysa.”

      “You know why I’m here,” she growled.

      Lionel smirked. “Well, fair Princess, like I explained before, you can’t come along on every expedition. It’s for men only. We do a lot of, you know, manly things and such.” He tossed his cape onto the bed and opened his mahogany wardrobe.

      Clarysa scrambled into a sitting position. “But you promised! You said not the next time, but the one after.”

      Lionel studied the wardrobe’s contents. “I did not.”

      “Fibber!”

      He swept his good arm into a dramatically wide arc, as though a performance artist. “And so it shall be! You’ll accompany us…the following expedition after the next.”

      Clarysa’s eyes narrowed. “That’s exactly what you’ve been saying for the past five outings! I–what happened to your arm?”

      Lionel had removed his vest and was struggling with the buttons of his shirt. “An attack. A wicked creature appeared, the horse spooked, and I fell…confounded…Johann!” he said, summoning his valet. “In my bedchamber, if you please!” Lionel sat on the bed and began to remove his boots.

      Clarysa tugged at his sleeve. “What kind of creature? Did you kill it? Is it here?”

      He eyed his cousin, an audacious woman of nineteen years. Vivid hazel eyes stared back, voyeuristic and eager. “It’s kind of involved. Do you really want to hear it?”

      Clarysa slapped him playfully on his uninjured shoulder. “Of course! What else do I have to amuse me around this incredibly boring place? Yet more lessons in etiquette and stitching?” Clarysa beat the goose-down mattress with rapid fists. “Ugh!”

      Lionel grinned and then glanced toward the door. Johann had arrived. “Oh, there you are. Help me off with this shirt, will you? And then heat some water for a bath, please.”

      “Yes,