Page 36 of Wicked Prince of Frost

In moments, plates upon plates of food fill the entire surface of the table with far more food than either of us could eat. They move efficiently, laying out the food. They are gone as quickly as they arrived.

The prince and I wordlessly take our places across from each other. During our first meal together, I waited for him to begin. I do the same this time. Better to enforce the habit early, even if it’s awkward.

I watch the prince pluck bite-sized portions from several dishes and set them on his plate. Each movement is smooth and practiced like a choreographed dance that lacks emotion. Almost as if he is going through the necessary motions to stay alive out of habit.

What must his life be like that even the slightest gesture is done to perfection without thought, where there is no room for even the slightest mistake with something as simple as eating a meal?

He takes a bite of thinly sliced meat and chews. His face is an expressionless mask, as if the food is bland and tasteless.

Colorful vegetables, steaming balls of stuffed dough, and grilled meats. The food is mouthwatering in its array of colors and savory aromas. I can’t imagine being anything less delicious than the way it smells.

Deciding where to start is difficult. I choose randomly from the options nearest to me, generously filling my plate.

I pop a piece of meat into my mouth and barely suppress an unladylike groan. It’s cooked to perfection. Juicy with a slight crisp on the outside. I quickly move on to the next item, then the next, and the next. Each is as delicious as the last.

I must have been too nervous to really taste last night’s dinner because everything tastes better than I remember.

Determined to at least sample everything, I quickly clear my plate. As I reach for more, I catch the prince watching me with the barest hint of a smirk playing on his lips.

My hand stills midair over the food. Feeling uncertain, I slowly retract my arm and clasp my hands in my lap.

“Please,”—he gestures to my plate—“continue. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen anyone enjoy eating quite this much.”

Hesitantly, I help myself to more. I chew each bite slowly, feeling the full weight of the prince’s attention on me from across the table.

He seems more curious than intimidating. Still, I find him distracting. I shift in my seat. The prince must notice because he looks away and busies himself with his own plate and sipping his tea.

Eventually, I sit back, unable to eat another bite without becoming uncomfortably full. There is still enough food left to easily feed another five or six people.

“I must leave to take care of a few pressing matters. I will send for Iseul and have her escort you to your quarters in the Southern Court.”

I frown. Despite the ordinary nature of his words, I can’t shake the feeling that I’m expected to remain confined. To leave one cage for another only when I can be of use.

I don’t want to feel like a prisoner. Being treated well is not enough. A prison is a prison, no matter how prettily adorned.

“Will this be the sum of my role—to stay in my rooms, waiting to be summoned?” Even to my ears, I sound disappointed.

His head tilts slightly. “Would that be so bad? You would want for nothing and be safe, as promised.”

Yes,I want to say.

Pressing my lips into a tight line, I consider his point. Iassumed I would be an active part of his mission—whatever that turned out to be. I even said I wanted to live… so whydoI feel disappointed?

Because you never believed you would live, and this adventure could give your life purpose,my inner voice chides.

It might be a childish notion. Even so, wanting to free my parents and the Winter Dragon’s other victims is far from the worst motivation.

Sitting in a room waiting for a fae prince to demand a kiss is a far cry from keeping the promise I made to myself long ago. If my broken heart hasn’t stopped me, then I refuse to let anyone or anything else prevent me from making the most of the time I have left.

I won’t allow this new situation to change that.

Leaning forward, I grin. “Why should I stay locked up while you have all the fun?”

“Rest assured, Violet,” he says with pointed emphasis on my name. “I will not enjoy myself one bit.”

“I could change that,” I say with false innocence.

The prince’s eyes widen slightly as he goes so still, he could almost be mistaken for a statue if not for the way the muscles in his throat contract.