Page 134 of Wicked Prince of Frost

I have to stall. Soon Joon or Iseul or Bear or Mingi willrealize I’m not where I should be—they will realize something is off.

“You… it was you.”

A smirk unfurls across his face, dripping with poison and condescension.

Black veins continue to spread, out from the corners of his eyes, down his cheeks, and neck.

My gaze is pulled from the grotesque markings to the area just over his shoulder as a dark shape rises up behind him. Two eyes, burn red like angry flames.

The demon hovers, body undulating in the air. Their shape is nearly identical to Imugi’s, but this one lacks the beautiful shimmering visage of winter come to life—they are the color of ash and rotting leaves with spiky scales.

I know precious little of the royal family’s connection with demons. But after what little time I’ve spent around Imugi and Bear, it is woefully clear that there is something very,verywrong with this demon and their bond with the interim king.

The world sways.

Hurry, Joon, I need you.

“How could you?He’sfamily.”

The king’s expression twists into a scowl. “He had everything—the crown, a bonded demon, and the future that rightfully belonged to me—but that wasn’t good enough. He tookher, too,” he snarls.

Who is she?

Flecks of spittle fly from his mouth as he speaks. The veins continue to pulse just below his skin. “If she would not be mine, then I would take the throne. It was just a matter of ridding myself of those brats.”

I am grasping for breath now. My heart beats against its cage of bone like a blacksmith’s hammer. Dizziness churns mystomach—or maybe it’s the knowledge of everything this man has done.

My knees give out. Fire burns my scalp as I’m held aloft by my hair.

He took her, too.

I loved her first.

I don’t know the people he’s talking about, but I know the missing pieces he hasn’t said.

Could the story I found in the library be true? Everything fits… buthow? Who would dare write it and then place it in the royal library?

If I can just get near the door, perhaps I can signal for help.

Gathering my rapidly fading strength, I manage to get my feet under me. I take a step back, then another. The king moves with me, hand still fisted in my hair.

The demon hisses, their burning eyes flash.

The king releases his grip with a rough jerk to the side. I stumble and take the opportunity to turn.

A large hand wraps around my neck and pulls me back. The king’s fingers tighten, clamping down with crushing force.

Sickening power rips through me as though shredding my flesh with razor talons, cutting into my neck, down to my chest, digging and clawing toward my heart. My vision goes dark.

Then the hand is gone. I fall backward, crashing into the wall, and collapsing to my hands and knees.

The king is still speaking, but I can’t understand him.

Pain far worse than anything I’ve known, doubles over on itself.

I can’t breathe.

I can’t scream.