Page 7 of Wicked Prince of Frost

Pressing a palm to the ground, I let my power build, then send it flowing into the land, strengthening the barrier against the Otherworld that allows the frost bloom to grow.

A cold sweat breaks out across my forehead. I grit my teeth against the bone-deep ache of my limited magic leeching from my veins.

When it is done, I exhale and sit on the ground, resting my arms over bent knees, not caring how unroyal it is to let the dirt soil my clothes.

“I caught a lesser demon trying to bury this just beyond the border,” Imugi says, floating from between two trees.

They drop their findings onto my outstretched hand—a lone, delicate glove.

What would a demon want with this?

I bring it to my nose and inhale deeply. Beyond the smokyscent of demons is that of a human woman. Light and floral with a hint of ink. An unusual combination.

There is no doubt that it belongs to the one who stole this flower.

No other frost bloom will be ready for harvest this year—let alone in the next five days. The curse on this land made sure of that. All but a few of these plants were wiped out, leaving only a single plant to come to maturity once a year, counting down to the time when I will lose control completely—and permanently.

Without it, we are all doomed.

Pain pierces my skull as the beast within me struggles to break free. I grunt. Imugi is speaking, but I can’t focus on what they’re saying.

Too soon. It’s too soon.The dragon fights against its binds.It shouldn’t be waking so soon.

Relief flows over me as Imugi envelops me in a fog of their power, lending me the temporary strength I need.

“Thank you,” I murmur, finally getting to my feet.

The hurried thunder of a rider approaches from down the road. It took him less time than expected to catch up.

“My Prince,” Mingi calls out. He leaps from his horse and races the rest of the way. “What did you find? What happened?”

I crumple the glove in my fist. I will find that woman before the day is through—and for her sake, she better hope part of that plant is still viable.

“I will need you to cover for me until tonight.”

“Your Highness, let me accompany you?—”

I face him. “You will be more useful here. I will return before the moon is at its peak.”

He frowns, clearly not liking this. “Will you at least tell me what you plan to do?”

Besides Imugi, he and his sister Iseul are the only ones I trust enough with the truth. He knows what I must do and how. Yet, still, I hesitate. “I will explain upon my return.”

Mingi presses his mouth into a tight line. It’s as far as he will allow his defiance to go.

I return to my horse, waiting patiently and fully restored. Imugi expended their powers more than I noticed. “Go with Mingi,” I order gently.

“But—”

“I will not do anything that requires my power. The sun will only drain you further. So go and rest. You have done enough for today.”

Mingi and Imugi depart quietly. I wait until they are out of sight, and the road they travel vanishes. Then I turn my mount in the opposite direction and ride, following the faint scent that matches the glove. Such minor magic is negligible, and most common fae are capable of the same in some limited capacity.

The woman’s trail takes me to the nearest human city. I pause on the crest of a hill overlooking the people bustling about as they go about their mundane lives.

I use my glamour to transform my clothing and disguise my features that would give me away.

Upon entering the city, a myriad of scents mingles, muddying the trail—food, oil, smoke, perfume on skin, and more I don’t care to identify. I move through the streets, for the most part, ignored by the inhabitants. For a moment, I lose the trail before picking it up again. After it happens several more times, my patience runs out.