Page 26 of Wicked Prince of Frost

“You can relax. I cannot curse with a mere touch, nor am I in the habit of forcing myself on unwilling ladies. You are a means to an end. Nothing more.”

Once I’ve regained control of my pulse, I remind myself of our shared objective and ignore the cruelty of his comment.

“If we are to work together, perhaps you ought to consider treating me as an ally instead of your enemy,” I say evenly, sitting back and mimicking his posture.

He notices. A muscle in his jaw ticks, but he doesn’t speak anymore.

I am prodding at a dangerous monster of a man. But I am safe from him, if nothing else. He won’t—can’t hurt me.

Has anyone ever returned his attitude in kind?

I quickly dismiss that thought. Of course not. He is a prince. One that is powerful and heartless enough to summon the Winter Dragon from the Otherworld and send it to attack the people he will one day rule.

Despite his known cruelty, I trust him to keep his word even if without a bargain to bind us. There was a sincerity in his voice when he made his promises.

It quickly becomes clear that I must be the first to narrow the chasm between us. I reach into the pocket at my hip for the wrapped book and hold it out to him. “I thought you might like to have this,” I say.

The prince flicks a glance at it before looking away again. “I have plenty of books in the royal library.”

I barely resist rolling my eyes as I fight the barest smile trying to form. “Then consider it a wedding present.”

“What is it?” He glowers.

“The text where I found the information about the flowerand the tea prep,” I say, ignoring his open hostility. “I thought I would return it as a show of goodwill.”

The prince slowly reaches for it, taking it with two fingers as if it were covered in filth, then shoves it in a nearly invisible compartment overhead that I hadn’t noticed before. He doesn’t offer a word of gratitude or any indication that he wants to work on building trust. I don’t take offence. He might need a little time. All I can do is continue to show my intentions through actions.

We sit in silence long enough that, even with the extravagant seating, I grow restless.

“If it is going to be much longer, I would like to get out and stretch my legs for a bit.”

He looks at me as if I hadn’t spoken. Just when I think he won’t respond at all, the prince shifts forward. “Very well, I will accompany you,” he says as if doing so is a great burden.

“There’s no ne?—”

“How would it look if I allowed my future bride to wander around alone while I remained hidden?”

When he realizes I don’t intend to argue, he steps out and stands facing away as I follow, unassisted. There’s barely enough room for me to exit without pressing against him.

I shake my head and try to smother a smile. I do not need anyone to hand me down, but it seems he is using the excuse of joining me for appearances to do the same.

Several smaller carriages trail ours, with guardsmen leading and taking up the rear, and several more scattered in between. Their horses wait in position for their drivers to return. Standing torches are in place, surrounding the procession and workspace ahead.

I walk past the prince to the edge of the makeshift perimeter. Beyond the border of light, the woods stretch out. Shadows thicken in the spaces between as darkness falls.

There’s a soft rustling behind a tree. A startled rabbit or some other small animal, perhaps?

A shiver crawls along my spine. Something in the air has changed. It takes me a moment to realize what feels off—the evening birds have gone silent. If it weren’t for the sounds of voices and thuds of wood from repairs to the bridge, it would be perfectly silent.

“They anticipate another hour before repairs are,” Mingi starts as he jogs up to the prince.

As I turn toward the prince, a large, shadowy shape soars over my head, rustling my hair. The power of its movement extinguishes the torch.

Something bumps against the backs of my legs, causing me to stumble and trip over a tree root as another dark shape passes overhead.

The torchlights are snuffed out in quick procession, bathing us in near darkness.

Howls rise up from every direction. The sound is a chorus of dark victory scraping along my bones.