The Frozen Prince (The Beast Charmer #2) - Maxym M. Martineau Page 0,96

me properly.”

I folded my arms across my chest in a pout. “Yes, sir.”

“Good.” He smiled, and the corners of his eyes crinkled. “One day, you will be king. It’s important to listen.” Leaning back in his throne, he placed his other hand on my knee. “Now, tell me what you learned today from your tutor.”

Rolling my eyes to the ceiling, I recounted the singsong I’d learned only hours ago.

“The first Welcomes,

while the second Questions.

After the third Realizes,

the fourth Blesses,

and ascension is granted

when the fifth Bows.”

My father smiled. “Do you know what that means?”

“No.”

A baritone laugh rolled from his chest. “You’re nothing if not blunt. It means you will be tried and deemed worthy before ascending to king. Name and blood alone do not make you a prince. Only the gods can bestow that right, and one day, after you’ve been realized, you’ll make your old man the proudest father around.”

My brows scrunched together. “But what about blessing and bowing?”

“That comes after. They’re needed for ascension, but recognition comes from the third. Never scorn that mage.”

The mage’s chuckle rolled through my mind at the memory. Kost and Ozias were busy helping Leena. She’d placed the ruska fruit on a small stone slab and temporarily removed one of her gloves, readying a blade against her palm. Blood exploded from her heart line, and she dribbled a messy circle around the fruit. The red droplets burned against white frost. Kost handed her a bandage before she slipped the glove back on and began to arrange fire opals atop the sticky, red circle.

“Hello, Aleksander.”

I dragged my gaze away from Leena and locked eyes with Silvis. “Silvis. I’m not here to be realized. We only came for a beast.” I pushed my thoughts back to her, and I swore to the gods her statue grinned.

“Oslo told me you were stubborn.” Her voice was sultry and rich, and the soft sigh that followed her words sent a wave of gooseflesh down my spine. “No matter. You are the prince of Wilheim, and you’ve been both welcomed and questioned. Your worthiness is not something I’m convinced of, but I have no power over the gods’ will.”

I rubbed my jaw, and the heat from my ring warmed my skin. “We’ll be gone soon, and you can return to your slumber.”

“I was not put here to sleep. I was…” The statue seemed to scowl. “Why are you hiding?”

My hand froze, and I frowned. “I’m not hiding. I’m standing right here.”

“Don’t patronize me. You’ve sought out one of my kind to help mask your identity. I can sense their magic all over you.” A prickling sensation crawled over my skin, as if she were somehow assessing the strength of the ring’s glamour. “But it’s fading. Let’s speed things along, shall we?”

Realization struck fast, and panic clawed up my throat. She meant to do away with my glamour completely. But before I could even think of defending myself—or even entertain the possibility of how—Silvis’s statue burst to life.

There was a heady groan of stone on stone as she raised her arm. Leena, Ozias, and Kost whipped their heads up and stared with slack mouths at the gleaming face of the mage. The once-ivy veins racing across her body were now aglow with neon power. Motes of brilliant magic dripped off her in tiny spheres and floated about her form, gathering around the point of her diamond staff. She extended it my direction and aimed the tip at my face.

“You cannot deny who you are.”

The magic gathering at the edge of her staff struck like a lightning bolt, streaking across the clearing to connect with the ring on my finger. A booming crack filled the canyon. Fissures raced across the silver scales of the ring until they met at the emerald. The stone seemed to shake in place, fighting against Silvis’s will, but her magic was too much. It shattered in a fine spray of green fragments, and my ring fell in pieces to the snow.

My ring. My identity.

Leena launched to her feet. “Noc!”

And then it happened. Power crackled over me as thousands of magical fibers were forcibly ripped from my skin. Visible and sinewy, the threads were stripped from my body. One by one they dispersed in a shimmery glow around me. The glamour granted to me by the ring was being torn away. I curled my hands into fists, and the bite of my nails against my palm did nothing to distract me from the pain. The physical sensation was