Page 3 of Wicked Prince of Frost

I only manage a few steps when a large mound of snow falls. This time at my feet. The shadowy end of a demon sticks out, their back legs kicking as they try to wriggle free.

Where there is one, there are bound to be a harmony of demons nearby.

I search for somewhere to escape. Zasu is too far, but about twelve yards away is a clearing with a patch of direct sunlight breaking through the canopy. If I wait there, I will be safe until the stragglers are forced to retreat for the day. They won’t be able to withstand the bright sun without being severely weakened.

The howl of demons hunting prey is eerily absent in the air, but I’m not about to take any chances. As I run, I throw a quick glance over my shoulder. The demon is nowhere in sight.

I don’t stop until I reach the center of the clearing. Bracing one hand on my knee, I press the other over my heart and rubto ease the sharp pain that pierces my chest with each panting breath.

When my pulse has calmed and the ache has faded, I straighten up. There’s no sign of demons anywhere—not even that cursed little creature, who quite literally tried to get the drop on me.

How odd. Demons are not known for their patience or subtlety once they’ve locked onto their prey.

I wait and listen. Several minutes pass, and all remains normal. Bird song and a gentle breeze rustling through the leaves are the only sounds that accompany the sound of my own breath.

When I finally take in my surroundings, nothing looks familiar. It seems I have gone farther than I realized. Until now, everything on either side of the border has only been touched by fae magic. This is something else entirely.

The trees on either side are vastly different than the natural border. It sends a chill crawling up my spine.

Like the surrounding areas, frost blankets the surface of everything. But here, the trees lean away as if blown by a great wind, and a solid sheet of ice, as clear and as smooth as glass, encases the vegetation—perfectly preserved destruction.

New foliage has sprouted and grown through the places where the ice does not touch. Years have passed since the savage force swept through here. In different circumstances, if it were natural, the sight would be beautiful.

But it’s not.

It cannot be melted by fire, broken by weapon, or removed by any means available to humans. The same that everyone brave enough to protect the mortal cities will all, eventually, fall victim to. As familiar to me as the back of my own hand—the same ice that took everything from me.

Only the monstrous Winter Dragon that the CrownPrince summoned from the Otherworld to plague this kingdom could cause such ruin. And it is just as cursed as the beast itself.

All anger instantly vanishes when my gaze snags on a vibrant patch of green.

Tucked into a crevice between two thick roots of a wide, twisted tree is a plant, untouched by ice or frost. The vibrant spring color shines through. Long, slender leaves sprout from slender stalks, and at the top of each one is a delicate, pale, white flower.

Hope leaps in my chest at the sight.

I make my way over to it on shaky legs and kneel, quickly taking the supplies from my bag. I clasp my hands together to stop the trembling before reaching for the flower. If they are as rare as the book claims, then I highly doubt I’ll find more if I harvest it incorrectly.

Once I have the tin set out and open on the ground, I pull on my gardening gloves and pick up the shears. I take a deep breath to steel my nerves. Pinching one stock a few inches from the top, I snip just below the first set of leaves, then place it in the tin. Then repeat with the remaining flowers. The more I gather, the more potent the cure.

Carefully, I fold the handkerchief over the blooms, then snap the lid on. I quickly gather my things and get to my feet, smoothing out my skirts.

My hands still.

The lateness of the morning has not escaped me, nor has the possibility of a few demons still lurking about. What has escaped my notice is the exact location of the border. The tell-tale markings are harder to spot due to the unnatural ice, and I stopped paying attention entirely when I ran.

The border is still nearby—only now, I’m on the wrong side.

Worse than a potential demon waiting in ambush would be getting caught breaking one of the Old Laws.

I hastily shove the rest of my belongings into my bag and head back the way I came, not slowing even when I cross back to the mortal side.

The sight of my mare, alive and unconcerned, fills me with relief.

Snow crunches beneath my boots. A muffled whimper startles me, causing me to stumble. I barely manage to catch my balance. Looking around for the source of the sound, I spot the thing I’d tripped over.

The small, upended demon from earlier is still stuck and mostly covered in snow from their flailing attempts to get free. The creature whimpers again, more pathetically this time.

Anxious to flee as far from my crime and this demon as I can get, I continue toward Zasu.