Page 142 of Wicked Prince of Frost

Where are they?

A scream rents the air.

Mother.

Guards come running, but our parents’ personal spies reach us first.

Hyeon grabs me by the shoulders, roughly shaking me. “What happened? What were you two doing in there?”

My mouth moves, but no sound comes out as the rush of guards passes.

“Hyeon, up there!” Yuna shouts, pointing to the sky.

Two dragons leap into the night in a tangle of fire and ice. One a pale blue, the other a mix of blood-red and dull gray.

“Sound the alarm!” a guard shouts. “The queen is dead!”

“What in the Otherworld?” Hyeon breathes. He watches in horror as the two dragons twist and slash against the night sky.

The stories of the shadouk rush back. When an attempt to bond with a demon fails, they will slowly poison each other’s life force until they die. But if the demon is far more powerful, they can live on after killing their bonded, able to use the empty husk as a puppet to do their bidding.

Our uncle will kill us—no, he is not our uncle. Not anymore. The realization is the jolt I need to regain my senses.

“Shadouk,” I hiss, shoving my brother at Hyeon. “Take Eojin as far away as you can.”

“What about you? It’s not safe for you,” Yuna says, trying to drag me with them.

I pull back, shaking my head. “He only needs one of us—hide Eojin. I will send for you when it is safe.”

A chill settles in my bones. I will live long enough to hand over the throne. It’s a truth I cannot bear to say aloud.

Eojin sniffles and rubs his eyes. he is only seven, yet I glance at Eojin, sniffling and rubbing the tears from his eyes. He is only seven, yet I must place a heavy burden on his shoulders.

“Prepare him for the crown, just in case.”

Yuna nods. “I’ll take care of the details of our disappearance.”

“We will wait at the Guardian tree on this day, each year,” Hyeon says.

Yuna grips my shoulder and nods. “Be safe, young prince.”

I watch them slip into the shadows, their movements barely noticeable. Once they disappear into the Northern Court, I run to the Temple Tower.

The ceremonial disciples startle and gape as I burst through the door. “Hide!” I shout.

Some inch away, wanting to heed the order, but most remain rooted in place by confusion.

The Minister of Ceremony comes running. “Your Highness, what is the meaning—” He is interrupted by the tolling of the bell. It sets off a chain reaction of smaller alarms throughout the palace.

“All of you—hide and do not come out until it is safe.”

Minister Ilseong bows his head, then quickly turns to usher the disciples toward the stairwell that leads down into the royal crypt.

Smothering silence falls as a dragon’s roar cuts off. Seconds feel like an eternity as they tick by. The world holds its breath.

A heavy thud shatters the quiet. I feel it through the soles of my boots more than I hear it, finally breaks the dreadful silence. The tolling bells cease, leaving my ears ringing with ghostly echoes in the sudden hush.

The triumphant screech of a dragon I do not recognize.