Prince Florian deeply inhales. “I’m coming in.”
The guard nods his head, turning his body sharply and running up the stairs.
“Whatever you do…” Florian leans closer towards me, never blinking. “Don’t say anything. And I mean,anything.”
“Yes, your majesty,” I sarcastically say.
“It’s not, your majesty,yet.” He cocks his head to the side, revealing a slight smirk on his lips before taking a few steps ahead of me and up the stairs. I follow closely, knowing I still am not dressed to fit in here. And I worry, will the King ask questions like his son did? Will he believe the story I tell him?
The walkway is pure darkness, with intricate ice sculptures glistening around me like frozen sentinels. The ceiling looms above with onyx cobblestone, aged and draped with timeworn flags, adding a hint of history to the hallway. Florian's boots resonate with a rhythmic echo, each step he takes ahead of me reverberating through the still air.Everything is quiet. Guards don’t even whisper as I walk by. I pivot on my toes, spinning slowly, trying to take it all in while continuing to move forward.
It's stunning.
But most importantly, it'swarm.
As we enter a large room through steel doors two guards open for us, a throne of ice sits before us. Sharp, thorn-like sculptures expand outwards from the throne with a walkway of white, powdered snow up to the King who sits there… waiting patiently for his son. His elbow rests against the ice, his long finger tapping against his chin as he stares out the tall oval windows to the right of us, overlooking the frozen lake and waterfall in the distance. His white hair flows downward to his stomach with small braids twisted underneath. A solid crown, sculpted of ice with white tips, sits gracefully on his head with turquoise stones, mixed with silver embedded along the points.
“There you are,” the King bellows, lifting out his hands as we walk up to him. “Ah, is this the woman I heard about?”
Prince Florian halts in his tracks, throwing his arm out for me to stop as well.
“I’m sorry, Father. How did you know—”
“Your brother has told meallabouther.” The King's body shifts forward, his elbows digging into his knees as if he is about to watch something fascinating unfold before his eyes.
My eyes dart between father and son,King and Prince, curious to who this brother might be and why there is this tension between the two of them rising by the second.
In the corner of my eye, a striking white tree with gnarled branches draped in white, powdered leaves captures my attention. The cool, ambient light from the chandelier above casts a shimmering glow upon the tree, illuminating it with an ethereal presence whenever the light strikes it just right. A man emerges, his onyx boots clacking harshly against the solid teal ice-like floor beneath us. His tight leather pants hug his form and an unbuttoned shirt is tucked in with three of its buttons left undone, adding a hint of casual defiance to his appearance.
But once my eyes trace up his broad, masculine figure, my heart sinks… all the way down to the pit of my stomach. Maybe even further. Heat flashes up my neck as my insides turn.Him.
His dark, chocolate hair still gracefully curls around his shoulder but this time, some is pulled up in a messy bun, revealing the braids underneath his hair. His icy-blue, emerald eyes meet mine, and a small smirk tugs on his lips. My stomach sucks in, feeling rage burn through my veins.
Him.
I’ve never killed a person before, but I will gladlyhave him as my first.
But as my body boils with anger, his lingering glare snaps over to Florian and he cocks his head to the side, slowly and deliberately.
“Hello, brother,” he says gracefully. His hands twist behind his back as he casually walks our way.
“You!” I roar, my voice echoing with fury as I lunge forward, every muscle tensing with the desire to hit him. The rage I felt back in the room where he left me hits me at full speed, and all I want is payback.Revenge.
Florian, however, grips me with a relentless strength, straining to hold me back as I struggle against his grasp, my rage nearly overpowering his restraint. But he is too strong.
“What did I tell you?” he growls towards me, his eyes narrowed into slits.
“Seems like you got pretty close with the… prisoner?” Florian's brother teases.
“Koen.” A deep growl emerges from Florian’s throat. “What are you doing here?”
“I can’t come visit my brother?” Koen tosses his arms out to the side. “Or my father?”
“You’re supposed to be back in Eekatia, as a Royal guard of the throne and…”
Koen cuts him off. “Why is it your concern where my whereabouts should and should not be, brother?”
Florian’s jaw ticks, his skin flushing with a tint of red. I can hear his breathing as I stand beside him. “I suppose it is not any of my business.”
