Page 22 of Wicked Prince of Frost

She exchanges a few words with them. They shake their heads, worry etched over their features. The woman appears to be pleading with her. She waves a hand in a dismissive gesture as she steps backward, putting space between them until she is on the verge of the crowd. The man reaches for her again.

What exactly is her relationship with these humans?

She avoids him by stepping into the path of a few others walking toward the stage. An obviously intentional move, but the look of surprise on her face as she’s ushered forward with the others appears genuine.

Her acting skills might prove useful.

They are led up on stage for all to see. There is a mix of reactions from the crowd. Words spoken in false whispers for others to overhear mix among the clapping.

“The city of Firnhallow thanks you for your willingness to honor us all,” the mayor says. “Let us see if one among you has a heart that calls out to the illustrious pearl.”

With that, he and Mingi lead them down the steps and toward my carriage. A guard walks on each side of the line of women. Either to avoid onlookers from trying to grab one or to keep them from the shame of running once the gravity of the situation settles on them. A few of them have already gone ghostly pale as regret hits.

I call my magic up to pull the shadows around me, so the only thing past the length of my forearm that is visible is the glint of the silver spiked circlet on my brow, then pull back the curtain. I reach out a hand to beckon the first to come forward.

Fear shines in the mayor’s eyes as he leans in to address Mingi. “Will he not be exiting?” he asks, a nervous lilt to his voice, a little too loud.

A guard urges the nearest woman to move. She stumbles a few steps before managing to walk the rest of the way with a halting gait.

“No one is to see His Highness’s face, except the Chosen Bride,” Mingi says flatly.

A few of the women take a half step back as if they are suddenly faced with a monster.

Because they are.

The first stops just over an arm’s length away.

Jaw clenched, I reach out my hand and unfurl my fingers. The false pearl in my palm remains a dull white. Her brow furrows in confusion.

I withdraw my hand.

“Next!” a guard shouts.

She lets out a relieved breath and scurries away. The guards and crowd part, allowing her to disappear within the sea of bodies.

One by one, the process is repeated. It is tedious, and I would love nothing more than to bypass it entirely if it wouldn’t raise suspicion. About half appear relieved. One appears accepting, while another woman is visibly disappointed.

Finally, it isherturn. She walks toward me calmly.

I can’t help but notice the two who were with her earlier have moved closer, following her from the sidelines. They are the only ones concerned. With the others rejected, the people now have a relaxed demeanor. A few still interested look on in curiosity, while many return to what they had been doing before the interruption.

Suspicion settles upon my shoulders. Either she is a pariah, or her innocent act with me was part of a devious plan that began with her trespassing.

She stops only when she is near enough that I could reach out and stroke her cheek if I wished.

Once more, I present the false pearl, but this time I infuse it with enough power to make it glow bright and undeniable.

Beads of sweat form across my brow. This small use of power is nothing, yet it drains my withering power more than it should. I retract my arm and draw the curtain closed, blinking to dismiss the unnatural shadows.

Imugi has disappeared into a hidden compartment attached to the ceiling of the carriage.

The door opens, and my new bride is guided to enter.

“Violet!” a man’s voice calls.

At the same time, a woman shouts, “Vi! Wait!”

She hesitates, one foot on the step, and looks over her shoulder toward her companions.