Page 27 of Wicked Prince of Frost

My heart pounds, squeezing painfully. I grasp at my chest, clawing for breath. What feels like branches tug at my clothes and snag in my hair, ripping out a few strands. I squeeze my eyes shut and crouch, covering my head.

Then everything stops.

“Get up,” the prince growls over me.

Peeling my eyes open, I tilt my head back to look at him as I straighten. Barely able to make out his face from the spots dancing in my vision. Either the world rocks beneath me, or I’m swaying and on the verge of passing out.

Then, I’m falling.

A strong arm wraps around my waist, catching me. I never hit the ground. I find myself surrounded by the prince as he holds me upright.

Sliding a hand up my neck to cup my cheek, he brings his face within inches of mine. The molten-gold ring encircling his irises flares, giving the brilliant blue a hypnotic glow.

“Breathe.” The power in that command flows into me like an icy balm. It eases the pain, slowing my heartbeat until I can fill my lungs with air.

He turns me, keeping me pressed against his side as he guides me back to the carriage.

“Get in and do nothing until I return.”

I nod as he yanks open the door and practically lifts me inside.

He is gone before I am seated. As instructed, I wait, absentmindedly rubbing my palm over the lingering ache in my chest.

The howling gradually dies down, and light flickers to life outside the windows. Exhaustion seeps into my body as I continue to wait.

What chance do I have of surviving? Let alone doing so for long enough for the prince to remove the dragon’s curse on my parents?

The carriage door opens, and I nearly jump out of my skin as the prince reenters.

“I believe it is time we had a little chat,” he says. “If you want to work as allies, as you say, then I think it is time you told me what is wrong with you. I cannot keep my end of the bargain if I am unaware of what I am working against.”

He’s right. It is hypocritical to expect him to tell me all I want to know when I have been unwilling to do the same. Everyone knows the fae deal in bargains and trades. To get something, you must give something in return.

“I wasn’t born weak,” I say.

Images of the storm that came out of nowhere and ravaged the land flash through my mind. I can still feel the stab of ice pelting my younger self. “I don’t remember exactly how itcame about… but when I was young, I was caught in a storm.…”

Whenever I think about it, the fear I felt that day is as fresh now as it was then.

I glance at the prince. He waits for me to continue.

“I got lost trying to make it home and passed out. I woke up three days later. My parents were so relieved. At least until I suffered my first episode.”

Years of consulting the best physicians in the kingdom yielded nothing more than a handful of guesses and names for my condition, from an incurable malady of the heart to nothing more than being born weak, among many other terms that mean nothing. Some physicians prescribed medicines that had no effect, while others shrugged regretfully and told us to pray to the saints.

“There is no case like mine on record. The physician declared that I had a broken heart, damaged by miraculously surviving lethal conditions. He said I probably wouldn’t live past twenty… I’m twenty-three now.” The reason for my desperation, for breaking the Old Laws, is unavoidable. “That’s why I’ve spent the past several years studying.”

The prince is silent as I speak, processing my story, even after I finish.

Mingi sticks his head inside and warily glances between us, then announces he will ride alongside us until we reach the inn. We are alone again. Moments later, the carriage jerks into motion.

“It was the dragon,” the prince says reluctantly.

I blink, confused. Does he think I’m accusing him?

“The dragon is responsible for the fate of my previous wives.” The prince looks away as he explains.

Ah, payment.