Page 29 of The Autumn Prince

“I’m never going to be cold again.” I looked to Incendis. “Do the fire thing,” I whispered.

Immediately, he was ablaze in flames, but this time they were way more like real fire than the hazy version he’d produced before. I gasped, and the princes all backed off with words of warning.

“Watch out!”

“Careful!”

“I’ll put you out!” The snowflake threatened with an arm out. “I swear I will!”

“Hey, okay!” I hollered, stepping in front of Incendis. “He’s fine. Calm down.”

“I’ve been known to start a few fires,” Incendis said with clear regret. “But I can also control the flames.”

“So it is fine.” I reached for him, and he extinguished the flames to take my hand. “And you’re still nice and toasty, so I’m happy.”

I passed around some stink-eye, but none of them said anything else about it.

“How about some introductions,” Bridge suggested. “I’m Bridge Flint, and this is Prince Hydris of the Spring Court.”

“Are flowers your power?” I asked.

“Growing things is,” Hydris said.

Bridge was grinning as he said, “The flowers are a bonus.” He stuck his face into the big pink flower and came out with pollen on his nose. Hydris giggled and brushed it off before Bridge stole a kiss and made him laugh again.

“I also grow things,” the prince with antlers said. “I’m Solaris, the Summer Prince, and this is my Wallace Crowne.”

“My Wallace?” Wally whispered with a smirk.

Solaris whispered back, “Shut up.”

Wally grabbed him, and they tussled for a moment, before Solaris laughed and let himself be kissed.

“Milo Hawkins here, and Prince Flurry of⁠—”

“Flurris.”

“—the Winter Court.”

“My name is Flurris.”

“Yes, dear.”

Before I could ask if Flurry—because I was totally going to call him that—had the power to control snow and ice, Milo gasped and pointed.

“Is that Lars?” he asked with clear alarm.

I could’ve explained who it actually was, but I couldn’t believe Milo knew him, too. “You know Lars?”

“He was the dungeon master.”

“The what?!”

“No,” Bridge said, “he’s a butler.”

Wally frowned hard. “He’s a pub owner.”

“Oh, my god,” I said, disbelieving all over again, “he visited all of us?”