Aerol’s POV

The heat hit me like a wave, and before I could react, Arie’s ice drone melted away in seconds. When I looked back, the footsteps in the snow had vanished. My chest tightened. Everything seemed to spiral out of control since my coronation.

“Are you alright, Ice King?” a royal guard asked, his voice steady but concerned.

“Yes, just thinking,” I replied, shifting my focus back to the bitter cold air of the devastated platform.

Dorsey kicked a dead branch into the mud, her frustration evident. “This isn’t over,” she growled, her eyes narrowing at me. “None of this would’ve happened if you hadn’t insisted on that night patrol squad. This is all your fault.”

Before I could respond, she stormed off with her personal guard. I let her go. She needed space, and I had no time to dwell on her anger. The weight of the kingdom rested on me now.

“We’ll head to the outer village tomorrow,” I announced, turning to Captain Sterling. “Something tells me the answer lies there.”

“But Ice King,” Sterling interjected, his deep blue eyes filled with worry, “you should remain in the palace. There could be Wolfmen waiting to ambush you.”

“You’re right,” I conceded after a moment. “But I won’t send another general to their death. That’s not a risk I’m willing to take.”

Sterling’s silver hair glinted under the moonlight as he straightened his stance. “You have my word, Ice King. I’ll be cautious and wise.”

“Thank you, Captain.”

I teleported back to the palace with my royal guards, leaving Sterling and the remaining troops to guard the outer roads.

As we arrived at the entrance, I stepped onto an icy plate, and a splash of red liquid soaked my pristine clothes.

“Alert! This could be from an enemy!” one of the royal guards shouted, his posture rigid as he scanned the area.

I bent down, sniffing the liquid on my sleeve. It reeked of chemicals—not blood, not even anything natural.

From above, a familiar voice called out. “Why did you ruin my trap?”

I looked up to see Aice leaning out of a second-floor window, his expression a mix of annoyance and mischief.

“Never set traps at the palace entrance again, Aice,” I growled.

He jumped gracefully from the window, landing behind me. “You’re no fun, Aerol. That trap wasn’t for you; it was for the chef who stained my shirt with ketchup yesterday. Guess what? He’s dead now, thanks to today’s fiasco.”

My eyes widened. “Something happened here while I was gone?”

“Yeah, and while you were playing Ice King in the forest, I had to step in.”

I crossed my arms, glaring at him. “You’re the most immature royal in Glacia.”

“Yet somehow, I’m still more tolerable than you,” he quipped with a wink.

I pushed past the irritation and demanded, “What happened? Tell me everything.”

As we walked through the palace, he gave me a rushed explanation. By the time we reached Claudius’ room, I still had more questions than answers.

***

Arie’s POV

Standing at the doorway was my brother, his clothes stained with streaks of crimson.

Lady Collfumes gasped. “Oh my—”

“Were you attacked by Wolfmen?!” I asked, stepping forward.

“Where are they? Why didn’t you call me?” Skadar exclaimed.

Claudius raised a hand to calm us. “Wait—”

“It’s just red paint,” his mother interrupted, her voice even.

“Exactly,” Aerol replied, unbothered.

Lady Collfumes arched an eyebrow. “Paint?”

“Yes, and it’s courtesy of a certain idiot who was just here,” Aerol said, gesturing behind him. But when he turned, the hallway was empty. “What? He was right here!”

“Maybe you were with a ghost,” Lady Collfumes suggested lightly.

“I’m certain it was Aice,” Aerol insisted, frowning.

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“Let’s hope it wasn’t,” she replied.

Aerol stepped inside and took a seat, his gaze settling on me. “Am I still a suspect?” I asked quietly.

“Never,” he said firmly. “You’re my sister. It’s my duty to protect you.”

Relief washed over me.

“But,” he continued, “there was a sudden temperature spike earlier. Your ice drone melted.”

“That explains why I lost access to it,” I muttered.

“The Wolfmen planned this distraction to capture you,” Aerol said, his tone serious. “You’re lucky they failed, but you need to be more cautious. Don’t open your door to anyone.”

“I promise I’ll be more careful,” I assured him.

“Good,” he said, turning to Skadar. “Tomorrow, your father becomes the new general. He’ll be heading to the outer village to investigate.”

“I’m going with him,” Skadar declared. “I won’t risk his life.”

“You’re better off staying in the palace,” Lady Collfumes advised. “Wolfmen target adolescents because they’re easier to overpower.”

“Not this adolescent,” Skadar shot back. “I’m stronger than my father—and probably you, Aerol.”

Aerol let out a heavy sigh. “Just be careful.”

Claudius, ever the curious one, asked, “What caused the temperature spike?”

“It’s the weather clock,” Aerol answered. “Lady Collfumes, you remember it, don’t you?”

She nodded. “The Wolfmen stole it during your father’s reign. Now they’re using it to their advantage.”

"That's right. Wolfmen stole it from him so they were able to use it for their own benefit." He stated.

“That clock keeps the palace cold,” I murmured.

"Yes, so expect that our kingdom will last for a few hundred years more before it'll crumble to liquid." He replied.

"Unless those bastard Wolfmen destroy our palace and it's gone within seconds." Skadar inserted.

“Exactly. Without it, Glacia’s future is uncertain.” Aerol’s voice hardened. “But we are Glacians, one of the oldest tribes in this world. We’ve survived countless wars. We’ll survive this, too.”

***

It’s been a week since the incident, and my brother and I now have personal guards shadowing us constantly. Privacy is a luxury I’ve lost—though they leave me alone in my bedroom, they stand guard at the door, ensuring no trespassers get through.

My brother left this morning for a diplomatic conference in the Sunstar Kingdom, which means I’m forbidden from leaving the palace today. The royal guards, stationed everywhere, watch me like hawks.

I sit alone at the long dining table, eating salmon and rice. Across from me sits my plush polar bear, staring back at me with unblinking button eyes. It’s quiet except for the clink of silverware and the faint rustling of the royal guard shifting near the doorway.

I glance at him. He’s staring at me, his expression unreadable but intense.

Please stop looking at me like that, I think, shifting uncomfortably in my chair.

I focus on my food, eating quickly to finish as soon as possible. In my haste, my fork clatters into my glass of water. Now I think it's a bad idea to eat at the dining hall alone, I should've stayed in my bedroom.

“Oh no,” I mutter, flustered. “Get me another glass of water!”

A nervous maid rushes forward, replacing the glass and taking my empty plate to the sink.

“Princess Dorsey is looking for you, Ice Princess,” the guard says suddenly, his voice startling me.

I nearly choke on my water, surprised both by his sudden words and the unexpected mention of Dorsey. Why does she want to see me now?

I step out of the dining hall and find her waiting, her lilac hair styled in a perfect braid. Her sky-blue eyes bore into mine with a sharpness that feels almost unnatural, as if she’s trying to cut through me.

“We need to talk. Follow me,” Dorsey commands.

I obey, trailing behind her. My cousin has an aura of authority that demands respect—or fear. Perhaps it’s the way she carries herself, taller than most girls her age, her posture unyielding, every step measured with purpose. Or maybe it’s the way her lilac bangs frame her face so elegantly, accentuating the sharp focus in her eyes. Either way, I feel like I’m walking into an interrogation.

Inside her room, she closes the door firmly. The space is spotless, organized to perfection. The curtains are open, revealing a large artificial tree with dark teal leaves just outside the window. A bird rests on one of its branches, chirping faintly.

“Tell me,” Dorsey begins, her voice low and calculating, “do you secretly have magic?”

My heart skips a beat. “I—I don’t! If I did, I would’ve told my parents.”

She narrows her eyes, her voice dripping with accusation. “Oh, they probably knew already. So you killed them.”

“I didn’t kill them!” I cry, my voice trembling. “And I never would, Dorsey!”

She pauses, studying me. “Fine. Then tell me—were you there the night my father died?”

“No! I wasn’t! Please, Dorsey, stop this. The real culprit is still out there, planning their next move.”

“I’m stopping you from being that culprit,” she snaps.

Her gaze hardens. “I know about your ice drone. You could’ve used it to erase evidence, but it’s too late. We were already there.”

How does she know about the drone? Panic twists in my stomach. If I don’t explain myself now, she’ll have me thrown into the dungeon.

“I only sent it to check on the forest,” I stammer, “because I noticed it was burning—”

A sharp knock interrupts me.

“Prince Aice wants to come in,” the guard outside announces.

Dorsey scowls. “Of all snowflakes, why now?”

She opens the door to reveal Aice, his sky-blue hair gleaming under the hallway lights.

“Heyo!” he says, waving lazily.

“What do you want?” Dorsey demands, irritation clear in her voice.

“I’m bored since Aerol’s gone,” he replies nonchalantly.

“You’re interrupting us,” she snaps.

“Interrupting what? A conspiracy against King Aerol?” he teases, smirking.

“There’s no way I’d do that to my brother!” I exclaim.

“She killed her parents,” Dorsey mutters.

“I can’t imagine Arie doing that,” Aice says, his tone more serious now. “Anyway, I found something suspicious. I thought I’d show it to you first—just in case the guards are involved.”

“You should’ve told me immediately,” Dorsey says.

Aice pulls a transparent pouch with gray fur inside from his pocket.

“Where did you find that?” I ask, my voice tight with apprehension.

“In the laundry,” he answers. “It was stuck to one of the guards’ uniforms.”

My eyes widen. “That means—”

“One of our royal guards is secretly a Wolfman,” Dorsey finishes, voice as sharp and final as a blade striking stone.

"Isn't it a werewolf?" Aice asks, hesitation lacing his words.

"It's possible that it could be a Wolfman using a magical accessory to disguise as a human," Dorsey answers, her tone clipped but steady.

I hesitate. “I thought those two terms were the same…” The admission burns. Books about the Wolf race had been banned in our kingdom for as long as I could remember.

To my relief, Aice answers without judgment. “A Wolfman is a Wolfman forever. They’re born that way. A werewolf was once human—someone infected. They only transform every midnight.”

“I understand now.” The words feel fragile on my tongue, as if saying them aloud solidifies the danger lingering just out of sight. “So that means there’s a Wolfman or werewolf in our palace.”

Dorsey’s glare hardens, the frost behind her eyes cutting deeper than before.

“Don’t try deceiving us by acting clueless.”

The words pierce—sharper than the fear of a wolf among us. Because this wound isn’t about the palace.

It’s personal.

***

Aerol's POV

The sun blazed mercilessly overhead as we arrived at the Sunstar Kingdom’s border. The air shimmered with heat, and even the royal guards seemed to move slower under the oppressive weight of the desert sun. A sand bear—one of their kingdom’s unusual emissaries—approached, his white robe covering his slender build only exposes his face. Arie would love to meet a talking bear, but I was reminded by the urgent meeting looming ahead.

“The meeting will be held in one of our mansions,” the bear stated. “It’s nearby, less warmer than the palace.”

We followed the sand bear to the mansion, a grand structure whose sandstone walls seemed to radiate heat. Inside, the air was cooler, shaded by heavy curtains and high, vaulted ceilings. At the center of a large, circular room sat a young man with golden hair, his presence commanding despite his youth. A large crown rested upon his head, its design intricate and heavy, as though to emphasize the weight of his rule.

He was surrounded by his royal family, seated in a semicircle, while their guards stood rigid, watchful.

“Take a seat,” the Sand King said, his tone courteous but firm.

We took our designated seats on the opposite side of the table. It was a round table, but the unspoken hierarchy was clear—our places were on the lower arc of the circle. I found myself directly across from the Sand King, our gazes locking for a brief moment. He looked to be in his late twenties, perhaps a decade older than me—a fortunate coincidence for my first diplomatic meeting. Most rulers I’d faced in the past were far older and far less patient.

“What is this meeting about, King Jamaico Sunlight?” I asked, keeping my tone even as I studied the man.

He leaned back, a smile playing on his lips. “It concerns the land with soil that borders your kingdom. The Sun God’s reach extends there, you see. And as you know, your cold kingdom should concern itself only with ice.”

His smile grew sharper, like a blade just drawn from its sheath. “Your father was so stubborn on this matter. I had hoped you might be... different.”

“I see,” I replied, matching his smile with a faintly arched brow. “So, what is it you want?”

“To put it plainly, I want that land of yours,” Jamaico stated, his tone light, as though the demand were trivial.

General Sterling shifted beside me, his voice calm but cautious. “Perhaps we can draft a contract to share the territory—”

I cut him off, my voice firm and cold. “It is our territory, not yours. The presence of sunlight does not dictate ownership.”

My icy blue eyes locked with Jamaico’s. The air seemed to chill despite the desert heat, tension rising between us like the prelude to a storm.

Sterling glanced at me, concern flickering across his face, but I didn’t waver.

Jamaico’s golden eyes glinted, a predatory gleam that matched the sly grin now stretching his lips. “Very well,” he said, his voice soft but heavy with implication. “It seems we are edging closer—”

He leaned forward, his smile sharpening into something deadly.

“—to what we call war.”