Page 131 of Wicked Prince of Frost

Once or twice, I think I see a movement out of the corner of my eye, or hear a faint whisper close behind, but when I look, there’s nothing there. My imagination is running wild, conjuring up images of demons that lurk within every shadow, preparing to pounce.

The Eastern Court is quiet. The shield overhead shimmers with the strength of its hold. Yet everything within is in disrepair from years of neglect.

Once manicured plants are now overgrown, taking over paths and lawns. Vines and branches tangle together as they vie for the same spaces. The wooden structures are cracked and splintered, with some support pieces in the process of collapse. Their painted surfaces have weathered and faded, leaving a ghost of their former beauty behind as they decay.

The sounds of fighting continue to fade as we gain distance. Still, the king doesn’t release me until we’re inside the old hall, and the door is shut securely behind us.

I release the tension that’s taken up residence in my upper back, leaving my muscles aching.

“Follow me,” he says, motioning with his hand as he walks quickly down the corridor.

I hurry to keep up, not wanting to fall behind in this unfamiliar place.

There is a distinct lack of voices and light in the room ahead. And when the king slides the door open, my suspicion that we are the only ones here is confirmed.

A shiver passes over me. “Is there no one else?” I ask, barely above a whisper.

“More are coming. It won’t be easy for them to get out of the Central Court with all the barriers down.” The full volume of the king’s voice is a stark contrast for the last fifteen minutes.

He crosses to a dark shape on the wall. With a slight flick of his wrist, metal and stone scrape, causing an unseen chain reaction.

Lights burst to life, trailing from where he stands and spreading out through the massive throne room.

A thick layer of dust coats the two wide thrones perched atop a low dais, and the wide runner cutting the room in half from the door to the bottom of the steps.

Not quite sure what to do with myself while we wait, I wander closer to the dais. Beneath the layer of neglect, it’s easy to tell that the throne room in the Central Court is nearly an exact copy. But where the other has harsh edges that mimic the shapes of ice crystals, this one has softer, rounded lines like that of curling wisps of frost or mounds of freshly fallen snow smoothed over by a gentle wind.

“I would like to offer you my sincerest apologies for what happened during your trial.”

The strong resonance of his voice, much closer than before, startles me. I whirl around and find the king barely more than an arm’s length away. I hadn’t heard him approach.

“Minister Ilseong had been a long-trusted advisor. He has never failed me before. I did not think him capable of betrayal.” He gazes at me serenely. “I do hope you will forgive me.”

I swallow thickly. The role the king played that day is something I have tried not to think about. It chills my blood to remember how he was all too willing to let that Ministerkill me in front of the entire court without so much as an opportunity to defend myself. Joon’s intervention is the reason I’m standing here now.

He might be asking for my forgiveness, but he is still a king, and I don’t see that there is much of a choice here. Though if it means making sure our future interactions are not strained, then I don’t see a reason to hold a grudge.

“Of course, Your Majesty. You were only looking out for your people.” Before I can stop myself, I add, “I am only glad the misunderstanding was cleared up before it was too late.”

He hums, glancing around the room in mild curiosity. “Are you nervous about your upcoming presentation?”

Again, he takes me off guard. Making small talk at a time like this feels a bit odd. The king is not concerned about the demons infiltrating the palace grounds in the slightest.

“A little,” I say, not wanting to come off as arrogant. “I don’t want to be an embarrassment.”

Other than my lessons with Iseul, I have not given it any thought. Mostly because Joon and I are so close to ending this curse, and I want to believe we will succeed before then.

My heart flutters as a light pressure tightens around it. The sensation isn’t painful, yet it has persisted since this afternoon.

“I’ve heard you have not been feeling well lately,” he says.

I blink uncertainly, worried he found out the truth of my condition. He nods to my chest. My hand stills over my heart, where I was absentmindedly rubbing the ache.

I lower my hand to my side and clear my throat. “I am well. It’s just a habit I have when there’s a lot on my mind.”

The ground shakes with another loud crash, rattling the chandelier above us, and letting us know the fight continues beyond the walls of this court. The king looks up, and thefirelight flashes in his eyes, making them appear to glow red for a brief second.

When he returns his gaze to me, it is the same shade of gray they’ve always been.