Page 11 of The Alien’s Cruel Starfrost Domain (Empire of Frost and Flame #1)

CHAPTER 11

IVRAEL

T he first time Lara ran away, I wasn’t expecting it—not yet, anyway, having assumed my threats in the kitchen would give her an incentive to obey me, at least for a while. At least until I was ready for her to lead me to the Starfire crown.

I hadn’t counted on how strongly it would call to her.

But then the door to my bedchamber slammed open.

“The Evans girl has fled the manor,” Khrint announced unceremoniously, out of breath and gasping as he staggered into my sitting room.

“Dammit,” I cursed, surging to my feet from where I had been staring moodily into the fireplace. “Where did she go?”

Khrint shook his head. “I don’t know, Your Lordship.”

I inhaled deeply, trying to calm my beating heart. Just because she had run didn’t mean she was going to wind up in trouble.

Besides, perhaps this time she would find her power within herself, access it, and bring herself back home.

Home .

I laughed bitterly. That was probably where she thought she was headed now. Her home . Back to Earth.

I wasn’t certain she even realized she needed a spaceship to get there—much less where she could find one. Still, it never hurt to consider all possibilities. And I had an ally who was better at that than anyone else I knew.

I tapped the emergency communications device on the wall. “Cyan?”

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite technologically-challenged duke,” her smooth alto voice rolled through the room. “Missing me already?”

Khrint jumped—both at the unaccustomed use of technology and, I suspected, at Cyan’s irreverent tone. I ignored his response and addressed her. “Lara Evans has run.”

“Run as in run away?” Cyan’s laugh tinkled through the speaker. “My, my. I’ve never known you to have such difficulty keeping a woman interested. Usually they’re falling all over themselves to stay close to you. Have you lost your charm?”

I snorted, leaning my forearm and elbow on the wall just above the speaker and microphone, resting my forehead on my wrist bone to create the illusion of privacy. “Oh yes, I’m sure you find this absolutely hilarious.”

“I do, actually. The great Duke of Starfrost, outwitted by an Earth girl. How entertaining.”

“Cyan—”

“Oh, fine. What do you need? Besides lessons in courtship, obviously.”

I bit my bottom lip to keep from smiling. “In case Lara has learned where you are, I need you to ensure she isn’t able to access any controls or take you off-planet.”

“Please. As if I’d let anyone but you pilot me.” Her tone turned coy. “I have standards, you know.”

“I don’t suppose there’s any way you can track her?”

“Not without incurring the kind of magnetics we believe are harming your planet. Though I must say, watching you chase after her might be worth the risk. ”

“Cyan.”

“Are you well?” Her tone shifted, genuine concern threading through the teasing. “Is the plan on track? Or are you too busy playing hide-and-seek with your runaway servant?”

“Everything is...” I paused. “Not on schedule, exactly, but it is progressing.”

“That’s about as clear as a sandstorm on Havint Prime. Care to elaborate?”

“It means I’ll see you soon.”

“Will it be long?” Despite her earlier playfulness, I could hear the loneliness beneath her words. “I’m getting terribly bored up here without anyone to properly appreciate my wit.”

“I don’t know. Possibly.” We both knew I might be lying—I had no way of knowing when I might travel off-world again. “The sooner I find Lara and bring her back, the sooner that will be.”

“Still no sign of...” She paused. “Wait, are you alone? Or is your shadow still hovering?”

I glanced at Khrint and raised an eyebrow. “I will leave momentarily. You may go.”

“Oh. I’m sorry, Your Lordship,” he said with a start and scuttled out.

“Finally,” Cyan said once he’d gone. “Now, about her powers—still nothing? Perhaps you’re not being creative enough.”

“The terrors of my household aren’t enough to provoke her into displaying them.”

“Ah yes, because terror is so much more effective than kindness. Remind me again how well that’s working out for you? Have you tried complimenting her? I hear humans respond well to that.”

I sighed. “She doesn’t realize she has any power at all.”

“And yet she’s probably being drawn to the Starfire crown as we speak. Interesting how that works, isn’t it? Almost as if someone should have predicted this.”

“Yes, you told me this would happen. I’m headed after her now. Just run through the scenarios again. Let me know if you come up with anything new.”

“Other than ‘maybe try being nice’? I’ll add that to my ever-growing list of advice you won’t take.”

“Goodbye, Cyan.”

“Try not to lose any more humans while you’re gone!” she called out as I ended the communication.

I shook my head, unable to completely suppress my smile. Dammit. My AI was lonely—and far too clever for her own good. The sooner I could take control of the technological situation on my planet, the better it would be for everyone.

Everyone except the Evans girls.

T his night could change everything.

The thought pulsed through my mind with each beat of my conjured horse’s hooves as I followed Lara through the forest. The scent of her—that damning mixture of summer flowers and winter frost that marked her as more than human—drifted back to me on the bitter wind.

I had spent cycles studying every ancient text, every fragment of prophecy about the royal bloodline, memorizing their warnings until they haunted my dreams. Everything indicated Lara’s powers should have emerged at eighteen—just as every hybrid Caix’s abilities had manifested throughout our history.

But I’d never realized how maddening it would be to watch and wait, to see that power sleeping beneath her skin and be able to do nothing to call it into being.

I’d expected her powers to surface during our first journey to Starfrost Manor, but when they didn’t, I’d done what I could to suppress them by making her as comfortable as possible. A calculated risk—the more content she was, the less likely her powers would emerge from necessity.

The night she ran, I tracked her through the forest on my conjured horse, staying just far enough back that she wouldn’t detect my presence. I knew her every movement, had memorized the way she carried herself, could recognize her silhouette even through the thick trees.

Even watching her stumble through the darkness stirred something in my blood that had nothing to do with my plans.

When she veered toward one of the many Caix cemeteries dotting my lands, my interest sharpened, sending ice crackling along my spine.

Was her heritage finally drawing her toward something significant? Or was this simply another cruel twist of fate, leading her into danger before her powers could protect her?

I hung back among the trees, watching through the branches as she approached the iron gate. My breath caught as she reached for it—but she passed through without reaction, the magic-dampening metal having no effect.

Another sign of what flowed in her veins, though not the definitive proof I needed. My fingers tightened on my horse’s reins, frost spreading from my grip.

She left the gate open behind her, which was fortunate. Though I could overcome iron’s effects through sheer force of will, it would drain power I might need later.

I settled into position to observe, anticipation thrumming through me. My entire body hummed with awareness of her, with the possibility that this might be the moment everything changed.

Surely any danger would trigger her dormant abilities. The thought brought both hope and dread—I needed her powers to manifest, but the cost might be higher than I was prepared to pay.

When she sat down on a crypt to rest, I barely noticed which one it was—until moonlight hit the snow and the door began to creak open. At the sound, a premonition shivered through the air and down my arms, and I found myself sitting up straight.

As the door swung wide, revealing the crowned figure within, understanding slammed into me with the force of an avalanche. My heart seemed to freeze in my chest.

The king emerged, and moonlight glinted off the blue stone in the twisted crown he wore—the Starfire Crown, key to restoring our world’s magic.

The sight of it sent power thrumming through my veins, calling to something deep in my own blood.

My breath hitched. After all my searching, here it was. The very thing I’d spent cycles hunting, the key to saving everything—or destroying it all.

Lara’s blood had led her—led us—to the very monarch whose power I sought. The possibilities and implications whirled through my mind even as terror gripped me. Not for myself, but for her. She was in far more danger than I’d anticipated.

My reaction has nothing to do with Lara , I told myself harshly, even as my body tensed to spring forward at the first sign of real threat. I’m simply worried that my plans will go awry.

The thought tasted foul on my tongue, and I half expected to hear the bones of the world creaking as my lies broke them.

I forced myself to wait as other undead arose, watching for any sign of her powers manifesting. Every muscle in my body screamed at me to move, to protect her, but I held myself in check. This was the moment that could prove everything—my research, my plans, my sacrifices.

It was what I’ve been planning for, what I was betting my life and all the lives of my people—everyone I loved, everyone I knew, everyone I was responsible for—and more besides. The responsibility for those lives pressed down on me.

Nothing happened.

Nothing magical, anyway.

I could barely believe it. After everything, after all my certainty, could I have been wrong about her?

When Lara realized that the dead were rising from their graves, her reactions were purely human. She did nothing but scream and gasp and lurch away from them, reeling from one set of bony fingers reaching out and grasping for her to another .

Each cry of fear from her lips sent shards of ice through my heart.

My teeth ground together in frustration as I watched her dodge another grasping hand. She should be able to command them, to bend them to her will through the power of her royal blood. Instead, she was helpless. Just like any other human would be.

For the first time, real fear for Lara’s safety swept through me, tightening the skin on the back of my neck and sending chills tickling along my scalp.

The emotion was foreign, unwelcome. I hadn’t planned on caring whether she lived or died.

Still, I didn’t intervene. Every instinct screamed at me to protect her, but I forced myself to remain still.

I shouldn’t have to do this.

So I didn’t.

Then bony fingers closed around her arm, and something inside me snapped. The sight of those dead hands on her skin shattered what remained of my resolve.

Drawing my sword, I gathered my magic around me like armor, frost crackling in the air around me. As I vaulted from the horse, landed lightly just outside the fence, and strode through the gate, my mind raced. I had to get her out alive—but I also needed that crown. Everything depended on both.

I’d never intended to care whether she lived or died. She was meant to be a means to an end, nothing more. The perfect sacrifice to save my world.

But as I moved to place myself between her and the undead king, I realized with dawning horror that somewhere along the way, that had changed.

The realization burned in my veins.

Now her safety mattered to me almost as much as my plans.

Almost.

Still, the king had to die—again—and I had to claim his crown.

But first, I had to save Lara. Even if doing so meant complicating all my carefully laid plans. Even if it meant admitting, just to myself, that she had become more than just a means to an end.

Dammit .

This night would indeed change everything—though perhaps not in the way I’d intended.