Page 135 of Wicked Prince of Frost

Nothing can slow or stop this episode. Not even Joon’spower. I know without a doubt that this time, I will not recover.

As if summoned by that very thought, a vision of Joon emerges from the shadowed doorway. A hallucination. A dying dream to offer some semblance of comfort as my short life finally ends.

I can almost hear him call to me.

Joon doubles before my eyes. Two princes run toward me…

What had the king said?

…a matter of ridding myself of those brats.

I focus on the final word.

Brats.

The first son.

Realization hits me as I crumple to the floor.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

JOON

The demonsin the Western Court are whittled down little by little until only a few remain. Bodies of higher demons lay in broken heaps of knobby spines and too-long limbs. Fissures form around the killing wounds of their flesh, like cold ash.

The formless, lesser demons, too stupid to flee, are easily struck down with sword and arrow. Night forged silver cuts through them as if they had no more substance than fog.

A thick, billowing cloud of black gathers to my side, forming slowly, condensing into the shape of another higher demon. It solidifies and lunges, attempting to take me by surprise.

I duck under the swing of the crooked arm and sidestep as deadly talons plunge into the earth where I was standing half a breath before. My grip tightens on the hilt of the dagger as I bring my fist up.

The demon meets my eye and releases an ear-splitting screech as I drive the point of my blade through the center ofthat blood-red orb. Their cry abruptly cuts off as they slump at my feet. Dead.

I turn to check on Mingi. He fights at my back, cutting down two more demons with a single swing of his sword.

My attention is yanked toward the gate, where a guard points, shouting to his companions. The one next to him lifts her sword.

The demon they eye races toward me, ducking and swerving. I squint.

They are no ordinary demon.

Bear?

Instantly, I know Violet is in danger. They would not have left her—not risk their life to find me otherwise.

The guards converge on Bear, slowly gaining.

I race forward. The four of us meet at once. I drop to one knee as Bear crashes into my chest. Raising my arm, I catch the blade of the sword coming down—ice crackles, coating the metal in a layer, inches thick. I use the added weight to throw the guard off balance and into the other.

“Take care of the real threats!” I shout over the din.

The ice recedes from the first guard’s weapon. The pair exchange puzzled glances. Even though they have no way of understanding the situation, they nod and comply.

“You should be with Violet,” I admonish, hoping against hope that they only wanted to be brave and help.

But as the demon points eastward, a powerful ache takes shape within my chest—the demand of our bargain—issuing a warning.

Instantly, I am up and running for the gate to the Central Court.