Page 136 of Wicked Prince of Frost

Mingi matches my stride. “The threat is under control here,” he says. “Those not needed to hold the shield will join us at the Southern Court.”

“Go without me. I will catch up—there is something I must do first.”

Mingi doesn’t respond. His silence is objection enough, but when we pass the gate, he gives me a look that expresses more than we would have time to speak.

Imugi is at my shoulder, moving with me as easily as if we were still.

“Go with him,” I say. “Keep him safe.”

After a reluctant hesitation, they oblige.

Bear leaps from my hold and bounds ahead, looking back to make sure I follow. Free of their weight, I speed up.

The demon angles away from the Temple Tower, instead changing course toward the Eastern Court. It’s hardly noticeable at first, but the gate is open just wide enough for a man to pass through.

It should be sealed off. It has been since?—

I shake off the thought. There is no time to think of that now.

Bear slows as we enter the ruins of my childhood, stalking toward the old throne room.

Their caution tells me all I need to know.

We slip quietly through the main doors. As I close them to keep the sound of fighting from alerting to our presence, a voice I know too well filters down the hall.

Anger and confusion war for dominance among the disbelief, turning my blood into rivers of ice.

Moving silently, I hurry closer to the light spilling through the open door.

“I am sorry, but you will have to die sooner than expected.” The words are low but clear, spoken with a cold detachment. It is nothing like the man I have called family since he came to the palace. Yet the voice is undeniably his.

Without seeing inside, I know he means Violet.

Entering the throne room only confirms what I suspected.

The reasons for his betrayal make no difference. If he has harmed Violet at all, I will kill him.

Violet is on her hands and knees, gasping for breath through a violent episode.

“I will not allow you to ruin everything I have worked to accomplish!” Uncle’s shout rings throughout the massive room.

It is what he’d said to me not that long ago. But now I can hear the true meaning behind it.

Violet struggles to lift her head.

Blood roars in my ears, nearly drowning out her name as it rips from my throat. My feet carry me to her of their own volition.

My uncle swivels his head and looks at me through two solid pools of pitch. Black veins crawl from his eyes, across his face like fine roots of a plant, extending over every inch of exposed skin.

Demon cursed.

Every fae learns how to identify the signs from the moment we are born so that we will know it upon sight. A warning to those who would risk bonding with a demon without the aid of the Master of Ceremony in an attempt to stand as a challenger to the throne and usurp the reigning monarch.

The higher demons searching for the opportunity to become a greater demon through such a connection are rarely a match to those who seek a life the fates did not ordain. The mismatched power taints life force, poisoning both fae and demon from the inside out. For some, it takes weeks or months. Others can take years or decades.

Uncle’s mouth stretches into an unnaturally wide grin,causing his lips to split at the edges and ooze thick rivulets of dark blood. He rushes forward.

As we speed toward collision, I reach for my night forged silver dagger and grip nothing but air. I don’t remember where or when I dropped it.