Page 1 of Wicked Prince of Frost

CHAPTER ONE

VIOLET

I have a broken heart,and one day soon, it will kill me.

The steady ticking of the clock on the mantel is an ever-present reminder that I am living on borrowed time.

Blinking my gritty eyes, I rise from my seat and stretch. My muscles are stiff and aching after hours of bending over a book, taking meticulous notes as I dissect each sentence, looking for any possible hidden meanings.

Despite the fire burning in the hearth, the early spring chill clings to the air in the study. I cross over to the window and gaze past the frost-rimmed glass to the street beyond the drive. Night gives way to twilight, and the outside world quiets with the dying howls of wild demons as they go into hiding. Pale, watery light leaks over the edge of the horizon, signaling the approaching dawn, and silhouetting the forest west of the city’s border.

Determination and desperation have kept me going long past the time I should have gone to bed, and throughout the night. It would be easy to crawl under the warm blankets andstay there until midday. A few pages left to go over, followed by a full day’s work ahead of me. Sleep will have to wait.

I glance back at the book open on the desk. It’s not a particularly thick text, but it’s from a time when language still held traces of a more archaic style, and medicine was believed to be magic that only the fae could perform. Any human practicing it either learned it from the fae themselves or stole that knowledge. The pages are yellow with age, and the leather binding is dry with flourishes of cracks. The title itself is innocuous:A History of Winter’s Flora.

Other than needing a rebinding within the next few years, nothing about its appearance hints that it’s special in any way. Let alone that it’s one of the forbidden fae texts.

Taking it from the archives was a risk. It should have been returned centuries ago when the fourth king divided the fae and mortal lands, and along with it, he created the Old Laws.

No human shall possess one of the ancient fae texts.

No human shall trespass onto fae land uninvited.

No human shall take from the fae what is not given.

A human found in violation of any one of these laws is to die at the hands of the fae.

The fae may come and go as they please without consequence, though few do. Save for the Crown Prince with a heart made of ice, who they say is as handsome as he is wicked and cruel.

I’ve never met anyone who has personally seen him. It’s always a friend of a friend of a friend who has. While the truth of his looks is unknown, there is not one person in all of Arum who is not familiar with his cruelty.

The likelihood that someone will discover it in my possession is minimal. They would have to know it existed and go looking for it first.

And if I don’t find a cure, I’ll be dead soon anyway.

With renewed purpose, I return to my seat and get back to work.

The remaining pages are a mix of passages written in ink that is too faded to read and entries on common plants or those that haven’t been seen in ages.

When I am finally satisfied that I’ve gleaned every potentially useful word, I gently close the old leather-bound book. I read over my notes that barely fill a small handful of pages in my journal.

It has been over a year since I came across a promising lead. One entry in particular stood out to me while reading, holding a glimmer of hope.

Excitement races along my spine as I study the sketch from the book that I copied along the edge of my notes. It’s a simple white flower with six rounded petals and long, slender leaves.

The frost bloom is a rare species, found as a small cluster that produces one to three flowers per plant. The period from the first sprout until full maturity is approximately a decade, followed by three to five years between viable harvests. It is said to have the ability to hold the effects of a curse at bay.

I press a palm to my chest and frown, wondering at the exact meaning of the wordcurseas it’s used here.

The book was written in an age when it was widely believed that the majority of maladies were caused and cured by magic and often referred to as curses. There have only been a handful of true curses recorded throughout the Arum kingdom’s history, as the victim is not the only one to bear theprice. The methods of how curses are cast and broken are a closely guarded secret.

It’s equally possible that the entry refers to a malady as it does to an actual curse.

Since the mortal lands were cut off, humans have made significant advances in understanding illnesses and injuries.

After years of studying all known plants with medicinal properties, I have never found a record of anything like this. Not that I, or anyone else in Firnhallow, for that matter, would have reason to possess knowledge of anything of fae origin.

I refocus on what matters now. I tap the tip of my pen at the end of a twice-underlined sentence.