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Perhaps his voice was a little rougher than usual; an ice goblin might have been able to hear the edge of pain or fatigue in it. To Gytha, he sounded as confident as any king. The gray blood that streaked his shirt had already frozen, so that the thin fabric stuck to his skin around the dark, ugly wound.

“Javethai the Usurper is my aunt.Wasmy aunt.” He looked down at her.

She lay sprawled upon the ice, her eyes glazed with approaching death.

“I knew she would not give up the throne she stole without bloodshed, and I thought that by letting her have the throne she coveted, I would save you, my people, a bloody war.

“I was wrong. She called me a coward, and perhaps she was right to do so. But I will be a coward no longer.

“I waited and hoped for her to change, but she only grew more wicked. I determined at last that I would be no prince at all if I did not oppose her.”

He looked down at her again. Her fingers twitched, and her lips moved, but no one could hear what she said.

Eshkeshken took a deep breath and let it out slowly, looking more regal by the moment. “The winds froze my heart,” he said at last. “A unique protection against the lance the winds also provided.

“I did not recognize it at first, but look.” He held the lance high above his head, and the broken ice that had encased his heart fell to the ground and shattered. The tip of the lance shifted and glittered, catching the starlight. “The magic kept itwhole until you could see it, even as it passed through the usurper’s body. Do you see this?”

Eshkeshken moved the lance a little, letting the light catch the tip of the lance again. His thin lips lifted in a faint smile. “It is the lost scepter of my grandfather, the king. Javethai never wielded all the power of the ice goblin monarchy. The winds kept it safe for me, even as I shrank from my duty. But no longer!”

He threw back his head, tossing his gray hair out of his eyes. Then he looked toward Alexander and Gytha, who crouched together some distance away. Alexander’s fingers were white and nearly frozen, but he held them against his bruised throat as he watched everything unfolding.

Eshkeshken strode over to Alexander, who looked up at him with wide, dazed eyes. The ice goblin extended a hand to him. “Stand, bear prince.”

Alexander reached for him, and when their hands touched, a great crack like thunder rocked the world. Gytha cried out.

The goblin prince gripped Alexander’s hand, steadying him as he staggered. “That’s better,” he said under his breath.

A grinding roar swept over the crowd, and only with effort could Gytha make out that it was goblin voices clamoring for answers. Some sounded angry. The ice goblin king offered Gytha a hand, and he pulled her to her feet, too.

Eshkeshken’s silvery eyes focused on Alexander a moment longer. Then he turned to the crowd.

“The North Wind whispered in my ear that if I waited too long, my heart would stop forever. Only the lance could break the ice, and only the ice would save me from the lance.

“Without Dakjudr’s courage, all would have been lost.

“The lance pierced my heart, breaking the ice and the queen’s hold upon the royal magic at once. The power the queen had stolen poured into me, filling me with life despite the wound,and I now hold what is rightfully mine, the full might and authority of the ice goblin king!” His voice rose, sharp and strong.

“My first act as king is to free the bear prince, unjustly enmagicked and held captive for two and a half centuries. We ice goblins are more than petty tyrants! We will not be defined and known only by Javethai’s cruelty.” With his head high and proud, he turned to look at Alexander. “On behalf of my people, I beg your forgiveness for the misdeeds of the usurper, and if it is in my power to make some recompense, I will do so.”

The ice goblin king, slim and hard and gray, his chest darkened by his own blood, bowed before Alexander.

Trembling and pale, the young man said, “It wasn’t your cruelty that kept me here.”

“No, but it was my hesitation to act that prolonged your suffering.” Eshkeshken straightened. “Be our guest now, and we will aid you to return to your home, when you are ready.”

A voice cried out from the crowd, “What of the dead queen?”

Eshkeshken turned to look for the speaker. “Bring your complaints about the usurper’s rule to me, and I will seek to do justice.”

“What of the body?” Arenenak had made his way to the front of the crowd, and he looked up at Eshkeshken with grave eyes.

“Feed her to the sea. Perhaps the kraken will want her.” Eshkeshken’s voice was hard.

Other arrangements were made, but Gytha lost track of the voices. She focused on Alexander, who stood motionless as the new king continued to answer questions and direct his allies, of which there were many.

Dakjudr remained kneeling where she had presented the lance to the new king. Her shoulders moved with jerky breaths, but she was otherwise motionless and silent.

When Eshkeshken had answered another question, he turned to look at her. He frowned.