Page 50 of Wicked Prince of Frost

With a muttered curse, he releases his magic. “The trail has gone cold,” he says, leveling me with a scowl. “I almost had it. If you were not slowing?—”

My jaw drops, but I recover quickly. I don’t wait for him to finish. “Do not blame this on me.”

“If I were on my own, I—” he starts.

“Stillmight have failed,” I finish for him. I step closer, tilting my head back at an uncomfortable angle to keep my gaze locked on his. The only thing giving away the strain of using his magic is the paleness of his face. “I am here to help you find… whatever it is you’re searching for. Whether that is to physically help or simply as a vessel, but why not let me do what I can?”

The prince is the first to look away.

“Then it is not your fault,” he says in not-an-apology… which seems to be the best I can expect. He pivots on his heel and heads back to the waiting horse. “Come. We must return to the palace before our absence is noticed.”

With a sigh, I shake my head and follow. I suppose thereare limits to the number of apologies a prince can be expected to give in a single day.

“Wake up.”

I force my eyes open to find a broad figure bathed in shadow looming over me. Fear spikes through my veins. I struggle to sit up. Hands on either side of my hips pin down the blanket, trapping me. The figure leans forward, bringing his face within inches of mine.

A scrap of moonlight that leaks in through a gap between the curtain and the wall, lining the edges of his face. The scream building in my chest dies out as I finally make out the intruder’s features.

“Joon,” I hiss, swatting at him. Not that he seems to notice.

He is close, and it’s still dark out, with only the moon’s light casting the world in silver.

“What are you doing in my bedroom?” Prickling heat rises up my neck.

The prince arches a dark brow as if he can sense the direction my thoughts have wandered.

“I thought you wanted this.”

My breath catches in my throat.

“Get dressed.” The prince reclines on the bed at my side. “We leave in half an hour.”

“What time is it?” I slide out from under the covers.

“Three hours before dawn.” Joon stretches his legs out, crossing them at the ankle, and folding his arms behind his head. “There are clothes for you in the bathing room. Let me know when you’re ready,” he says with closed eyes.

Still sleep-addled, I glance back at him over my shoulder before shuffling into the adjacent room.

The top is a pale blue, paired with riding pants of the same shade, accompanied by a deep, glacial blue jacket and a knee-length, flared skirt in the same dark color for the outer layers.

I dress quickly and return to the main room. The lantern hanging in the center of the ceiling is lit. The prince stands at the window with his hands clasped behind his back, gazing out to the private garden behind my personal quarters. Lanterns hang from lines above the paths, with more along the water’s edge. I take in his clothing and realize the riding outfit he brought for me matches his.

A folded pile of material, the color of the pale sky with snow-white fur peeking out along one edge, is set out atop the long dresser under the window in front of him.

After a moment, he turns to face me. “I sense another.”

I nod. Anotherwhatexactly? I don’t know, and I don’t ask. He’s made it abundantly clear that he will either tell me or he won’t.

The prince grabs the bundle and shoves what turns out to be a warm cloak.

Imugi is waiting out in the hall, hovering at eye level. It is still too early for either Mingi or Iseul to be awake for their duties.

I hesitate, looking nervously out the window. “Will we not wait for dawn?”

“And risk letting the trail go cold again?” The prince scoffs.

“The demons…” I trail off, gesturing weakly toward the night.