The throne room shuddered with power. Icicles from the ceiling became deadly spikes that Lucian narrowly dodged—and Merry had to quickly form shielding glyphs for Alice and Cadrel.
The King rose from his chair like he had only been asleep for a brief moment. Each frozen cabinet trembled and the glass shattered into pieces as he passed by, form like cracked porcelain and pale fire.
His frozen crown was slowly melting in his anger, dripping fresh water onto the ground. His breath came in gusts that rattled the glass bones of the Chateau. And yet…
Lucian could feel the joy that was once rooted in such anger. That this man carved the castle and had a hundred thousand men help with the building. Surrounding him were the ghosts of women who plucked ingredients for him to use in his ice cream.
