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One morning, the ice goblin king stepped into their room. His grey eyes flicked over them thoughtfully as they stood to greet him.

“Are you well, Gytha? Alexander?” he asked.

“Yes,” they answered.

Eshkeshken bowed gravely to Alexander. “It is my honor to offer you a small token of my regret for what you havesuffered here.” From behind his back, he produced a bag large enough to hold a brace of hares and proffered it to Alexander.

The bear prince accepted it cautiously, obviously startled by its weight. “What is this?”

Eshkeshken bowed again but said only, “Look, and tell me if you can forgive me.”

Alexander put one hand into the bag and drew out a handful of glittering diamonds and rubies. The facets caught the lantern light and threw gleaming points of color around as if by magic. Alexander’s dark eyebrows drew downward and he looked at Eshkeshken again. “Gems? Why? This is a king’s ransom.”

The ice goblin prince bowed even lower. “It is intended to be.” His voice had a harsh edge, but it seemed to betray grief and regret rather than anger. “You were a prince in the human lands before you were imprisoned as a bear. You were deprived not only of family, friends, and companionship among your own people, but of your rightful place as king over them.

“No riches can truly repay you for what was taken from you, but perhaps this is enough to show you the depth of my sincerity when I say that no human will be stolen again, not while I am king.”

Alexander swallowed. He looked down at the bag again and then back at Eshkeshken.

Eshkeshken added softly, “It is more than I have kept for myself, Alexander. I use your name, because I acknowledge the life you once had and have lost.”

Alexander hesitated and finally nodded once. He bowed. “You are generous, Your Majesty. No jewels can pay for what I have lost. Yet you were not my captor, and nothing but your own honor compelled you to give me anything at all. I am without complaint against you.”

Eshkeshken hesitated and then said, “I have no standing to offer you advice. You have borne your trial more graciouslythan I bore mine. But if you will hear me, I would offer one word of counsel.”

“What is it?” Alexander’s dark eyes were steady on the ice goblin’s face. His face was a mask of stillness.

“You are still a prince, even if your people no longer remember you. It is in your blood and your character. You have a duty to your people to ensure that they are not subjugated under an unjust ruler as my people were.”

Alexander’s face, already pale and drawn, grew even paler. “My brother Tobias would have ruled in my place. He was a good-hearted boy; he would have been a just and gracious king.”

“And his son? And his?” Eshkeshken’s rough, gravelly voice was soft as Gytha had ever heard it. “I have no right to speak to you of duty; I shirked mine long enough. But I can tell you that this guilt is heavy, and I would spare you that if I could. My advice is to go first to your own country, to take your rightful place if you want it and if you must serve your people by ruling justly. If you see that your country is ruled well, then take your place there as king regent and live in comfort in your own home, or leave and live in anonymity with Gytha’s family if you prefer.”

Alexander swayed as if he would faint, and Eshkeshken gripped his arm for a moment, steadying him.

For a moment, they locked eyes, and time seemed frozen.

“How will I get there?” Alexander croaked. “It is hundreds of miles away.”

“I have the magic of the royal scepter now. I can make you a bear for as long as you want.”

Alexander shuddered convulsively. “No.”

Eshkeshken tilted his head and opened his mouth, but then apparently reconsidered his words. A tense moment passed, and then he said, “It is an offer. Your clothes will keep you warm enough to walk safely, and I can provide enough food for thejourney. I can provide an escort to take you safely to the edge of the human lands with all speed.” He bowed again. “Think on it.”

Then he withdrew from the room, leaving them alone in the fraught silence.

For a full day Gytha and Alexander rested, but Alexander said not a word for many hours.

At last Gytha said gently, “Have you really recovered enough to walk several hundred miles in the snow?”

Alexander buried his face in his hands. “No,” he admitted at last. “Not as a human. I doubt I could even with the king’s escort. Nor could I keep you safe.”

In her heart, she knew she could have pressed him to a quicker decision. She could have asked him to become a bear, to take her home, to do anything at all.

He would have done it for her.

But he had been hemmed in, his honor used as a weapon against him for so long, that she merely waited patiently. He was a man, and a prince, and though he had been imprisoned and tormented for generations, he was still, somehow, not entirely defeated. With quiet kindness and patience, she would help him remember who he really was.