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B efore Gytha was ready to be interrupted, there was a preemptory knock on the door and Iphreshken entered. “His Majesty has used his magic to make you food you might prefer. He commands you eat and be strengthened.”

At the sound of the goblin’s voice, Gytha felt Alexander tense almost imperceptibly. But he said only, “Thank you,” his voice raw and exhausted. The tension remained in his shoulders as Iphreshken put an enormous platter in front of them.

Fresh bread, a pot of creamy herbed butter with a tiny knife, slices of raw fish, a pile of cooked greens, and pieces of steaming, savory sausage filled the air with delicious scents.

The ice goblin nodded to them and retreated without another word.

This spread seemed to recall both the familiar tastes of Gytha’s home and the more exotic tastes of the magically-procured food of the underground prison.

“You should eat,” Alexander said, and his voice was strange and rough with emotion.

Gytha withdrew a little and studied his face. “You should, too,” she said gently.

Alexander’s dark eyes searched her face, and finally he nodded. “If you wish it,” he murmured.

For several moments there was only silence. Finally Gytha said, “Eat a bite, Alexander.”

Her heart twisted with grief and compassion as she watched him eat. He said little, only looking up at her several times questioningly.

At last, when he had settled with his elbows on his knees and his head hanging down, she said softly, “You must be tired. You can sleep if you need to.”

“I am tired,” he admitted reluctantly, and he straightened with effort he could not hide. “But I am troubled. I brought you here to the end of the world, and I do not know how to return you to your home.”

“I am sure the king will help us. For now, we should rest, so that when the time comes, we are ready to travel.”

Soon the goblins brought them more thick furs, both to use as blankets and already sewn into clothes that would keep them warm in the cruelest blizzard.

Once they were wearing this attire, they slipped beneath the furs and slept, together but not touching. To Gytha, this seemed like the only familiar thing in the world. Alexander slept like the dead, and if he trembled at times in his sleep, she knew it was not because he was freezing.

The goblins invited them to explore the city, promising that they would be safe and treated with utmost courtesy.

Nevertheless, Alexander and Gytha stayed mostly in the one relatively warm room.

Alexander volunteered little of his story to Gytha over the following days, and so eventually she began to probe, little by little.

“Nothing I say can make your life better,” he said, his dark eyes holding hers. “Why are you so kind to me, when I have brought you nothing but pain?”

“I wish you would not scorn yourself so easily,” Gytha said fiercely. “You brought my family hope in our despair, and you brought me the opportunity to do what was right and good in the face of my own fear.”

Alexander swallowed and looked down for a moment before meeting her eyes again. “You have not repented of that kindness and courage yet? Even now?”

“Not at all.” Gytha bit her lip as she studied his face. He was still gaunt and hollow-eyed, with a strange, haunted look that made her heart turn over with sympathy.

When he looked away again, she said, “We cannot stay here; this place is too cold for us, and it is neither your home nor mine. So when shall we leave, and shall we go to your home or mine?” She wanted to go to her home, of course, but she could not bear the thought of telling him what to do.

He had been a prisoner for so long that she felt it important to give him a choice, even in this.

“I have no home anymore.” His voice was bleak. He took a deep breath and smiled, the expression somehow both sad and hopeful. “But I would count it an honor to see your family again, and if you still have not repented of your decision, to marry you in the sight of all whom you love.”

The sweetness of his smile caught at her heart, and she said, “I will not repent of it.”

For quite some time, they stayed with the ice goblins.

Though they had more furs, it still seemed reasonable to sleep on the same pallet, though neither of them was bold enough to touch the other once they turned down the lamp.

They did, however, talk in the darkness, and their conversations had a careful, hope-filled sweetness that left Gytha smiling as she drifted into dreams. Time was as strange and unmoored from dark and light and sleep and waking as it had been in that unground prison, only there was no need to even attempt to count the days.

It might have been a week or a month; neither of them could tell, and they did not try.

Neither did Alexander develop much interest in exploring the icy city.

He said he had seen the streets before and had no wish to see either the streets or most ice goblins again.

But he did accompany Gytha out several times to a secluded courtyard where they watched the ephemeral ribbons of color dance across the sky, streaks green, gold, pink, and blue.

Eshkeshken came several times to speak with them, to apologize for the slowness of his opposition to Javethai the Usurper and to offer his assistance in their return to the human lands.

The goblin king did not change his simple attire much with his new status; his clothes were less threadbare but no more ostentatious than what he had worn as a servant.

The only visible sign of his royalty was a thin silver circlet upon his head.

The metal was unpolished and set with only a single white gem, and the dull metal was so close in color to that of his hair that the crown did not draw much attention.

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 have suffered 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 graciously than 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 the journey. 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.