Page 155 of Wicked Prince of Frost

Iseul sucks in a sharp breath. “It’s too convenient for it to be coincidental, especially since books don’t simply evaporate into stardust.”

Mingi hums thoughtfully. “I believe you’re right. As the oldest prince, Sameun would have normally been the heir, but he lacked sufficient power because he could not form a demon bond upon his birth.”

The siblings fill in the gaps of what I don’t know, building off each other’s thoughts.

“He obviously forced a bond with one before returning.” She shudders. “Even if it was the only way to access his guardian, he had to know he would become a shadouk.”

Mingi nods. “The past is absolute and cannot be rewritten, as history is the source of the guardians’ magic. No mortal magic has the power to take it from them.”

Iseul grabs my hand in both of hers. “The Traitor King couldn’t just remove the young prince from the record books.He had to erase Prince Eojin from the memories of everyone who ever knew him. He couldn’t change the past, so the curse could only move the memories somewhere else.”

Another thought occurs to me—I might be grasping at straws, but if there’s even the slightest possibility that any detail from my time here can help, then I will go over every detail, no matter how minor it seems.

“You said I had Joon’s power in me and that there is a chance I could see through glamours?”

“I did,” Iseul agrees. Her brow furrows at the sudden change in topic.

“How would I recognize it?”

She presses her lips together. “I suppose it could look like they shimmer in certain lights.”

“Then I know where to find him.” I grin and shift closer. “Joon and I rode through a town to the south, and there was a young man hanging a sign. At the time, I thought it was from the sunset, but I think it was a glamour.” I scrunch my nose, trying to remember the name. “I think it was… Lummi.”

Mingi flips to a different page in the book he still holds. He turns it around to show Iseul and me. On the late queen’s page, he points to the name of the place she grew up in before she married the late king.

It is the same.

“Something tells me you are correct,” Mingi murmurs. He snaps the book shut as a scribe passes by and catches him by the arm. “A page has been removed from this one.”

The scribe takes it with both hands and bows. “I will see it restored immediately.”

“Have them double-check to make sure no other records are missing. Then add the details of the Traitor King’s rule and his crimes.”

“Yes, of course.” The man bows again, then hurries off.

I don’t think about the implications of this other prince becoming king. It can be sorted out once we bring Joon home.

I lead Iseul and Mingi through the streets of Lummi. The damp chill of night still lingers on the morning air.

We left the palace as soon as the first rays of sunlight stretched over the horizon and forced the wild demons into hiding for the day.

Food shops are already open for the day, preparing for the rush that will come once the businesses selling other goods open their doors.

I stop across the road from a modest bookstore with a sign hanging over the sidewalk that reads: The Dragon’s Tome. The newly painted letters are still bright and vibrant with color. Even the name is an obvious clue.

Two windows, situated on either side of a narrow door, display books on risers.

An arm reaches over the top and replaces one of the books with another before disappearing into the shadows within.

Motioning for the others to follow, I cross and push open the door. The bell above the entry rings our arrival.

“I’m sorry, we’re not open yet. If you would—” the young man trails off when he turns toward us.

For a heartbeat, I am too stunned to breathe. The prince’s features are nearly identical to Joon’s. So much so that I feel as though I am staring at a younger version of him. But where Joon’s eyes are two different shades of blue, sharper, deeper, and shadowed with the weight of the curse, his brother’s eyes are large and bright, still unwearied by the cruelty of the world.

His gaze skips from me to Iseul and Mingi, then, with a frown, settles back on me.

“Prince Eojin,” I say, stepping forward. “I am Violet Hawthorn, and this?—”