Page 29 of Wicked Prince of Frost

We stand in the center of an expansive courtyard with several buildings situated throughout. Each is connected by enclosed walkways with massive windows. I see through them to more of the same. Areas of gardens and bridges that cross streams and ponds, and trees that shade the grassy patches during the day.

The prince walks forward, leaving me behind as I take it all in. I rush to catch up, trailing by a few steps. His stride is long, and it takes effort to keep pace as we pass several buildings and through one gate, then another. I smell the fragrant aroma of the food before I see it. Finally, he leads us down a path to a pavilion.

In the center is a low table laden with various dishes of caramelized meats, fermented vegetables, seasoned with ablend of mouthwatering spices, fruits, soups, and steamed dumplings.

The dining area is lit by two fires, one behind each place setting. Two cushions on either side of the table. The prince takes a seat on one. I follow his example and take the other across from him.

He has been quiet for so long, it’s impossible to tell if he is upset or tired.

He watches me, not eating. I do the same, using his actions as a guide.

“You shouldn’t let it bother you,” I say quietly.

His brow furrows.

“What others think of you. It’s easier to get caught up in rumors than it is to take the time to know someone.”

The prince narrows his gaze with obvious suspicion. “And you thinkyouknow me?”

I shake my head. “No, but I would like to.”

He blinks, and his expression softens.

My stomach growls loudly, ruining the moment we were about to have.

One corner of his mouth ticks up before he can rein it in. “Eat,” he says finally. “We will not get another chance until early evening tomorrow.” With that, he plucks a few things from various dishes, and sets them on his plate.

I hesitate for a moment, unsure how to take his long silences, only speaking a few words when necessary. But the answers won’t come by not eating. I gather a little bit of the dishes closest to me onto my plate, then take a bite.

“You will be woken at dawn and readied for the ceremony. Assistants have been assigned to you. As long as you allow them to do their job, there will be nothing to worry about.”

With my mouth full, I nod in response.

“You must behave in a manner that suggests you were born and raised for this role,” he continues.

I swallow, barely tasting the food.

“How am I to do that if I have no idea what is expected of me, let alone without training?”

He lifts his cup and takes a slow sip. Piercing blue eyes hold me captive over the rim until he breaks the spell.

“You have done well so far, Violet. Continue to follow my lead and cues. I will do my best to inform you of anything you need to know beforehand. However, if things go as intended, after tomorrow’s ceremony, it will not be an issue for long.”

I lick a smear of sauce from my bottom lip and narrow my eyes. There is an unspoken meaning within his intentionally vague words.

To figure it out, I work through what I know.

So far, he’s refused to give me any details of how I am to assist him or what he needs my help with, so it stands to reason that no one knows of our bargain, and considering I am bound from speaking of it. And he intends for it to remain that way.

The only reason to speak vaguely now is if there’s a chance we might be overheard.

Whatever his secret, it must be a matter of life and death.

I believe he is trying to communicate that we will only be around to fake our marriage for mandatory appearances and only for unavoidable events, while spending every available second on our mission.

“I understand, My Prince,” I say quietly. His title falls off my tongue, stilted and awkward. Then, I add a message of my own. “I will be what you need.”

He raises a brow as if he hadn’t expected an equally veiled response. An emotion shadows his features, but it’s gone before I can identify it.