Page 29 of The Alien’s Cruel Starfrost Domain (Empire of Frost and Flame #1)

CHAPTER 29

LARA

“ W elcome, Prince Jonyk’s honored retinue, cherished guests, old friends and new,” Ivrael calls out, his voice echoing throughout the room. “I invite you to enter my home freely, partake of our bounty, share in everything we might gain during your stay—and leave a little of your happiness when you go.”

Something about that phrasing makes my scalp crawl like a warning is going off inside my head—and I could almost swear I’ve heard it before, though I don’t know where. Maybe just something similar? I see a few Caix exchange frowning glances, so I assume it’s not a normal ballroom greeting among the Caix.

They might not know what I know—that Ivrael is conspiring with firelords—but some of them realize something odd is going on, and when my gaze flickers back to Ivrael, I see him wriggling his fingers in what looks like one of the gestures he uses to do things like call up the ice horses, using the tapping of the riding crop to disguise the motion.

I realize I need to ask Adefina how Caix magic actually works. Though I’m assuming, of course, that Ivrael’s just done anything at all. Maybe he was only fiddling with the crop.

I don’t believe it, though, especially once I see the moment they all decide to shrug it off—all of them at the same time. But any inclination anyone might have had to examine his words further is dismissed quickly enough.

After all, this is the Icecaix Court. Everyone here is always attempting to gain political advantage in one way or another. His odd wording may be part of that political wrangling, the constant plotting and scheming every Icecaix indulges in.

Ivrael’s ice-blue gaze flickers across the ballroom, and then slowly, deliberately, he raises his eyes to the balcony, and then above it. His eyes meet mine, and his lip curls up into a sardonic smile. His glance spears through me like an icicle, pinning me in place, so cold it burns.

Yet that smile curls low in my belly, warmer than it has any right to be, reminding me of the burning need I’d felt for him back in the dining hall, even in his absence. With a slight nod, he raises the riding crop to his forehead in an ironic salute before glancing away to speak to another Caix lord who has stepped up onto the dais next to him.

Kila lets out a string of curses too high-pitched for me to decipher them. “Did you see that? He saw us. I think he saw us. Was he pointing at you with that whip he’s holding? Oh, gods of the green hills, I think he saw us.”

“Yeah, he saw us,” I mutter.

“Do we need to leave?”

I have no doubt he saw us, that he knows we’re here. If I did doubt it, the way that riding crop stilled against his leg before he saluted me, the way that knowing smile curved across his face, would have convinced me.

But he didn’t order us removed, and I don’t think I can pull myself away from watching the Caix twirling below us.

No. That’s not true. I don’t think I can pull myself away from watching Duke Ivrael.

The Caix lord speaking to Ivrael heads toward the dance floor, and Lady Uanna steps up onto the dais beside him.

She wears a blood-red dress that stands out harshly against her white skin, and the fabric shimmers, flows, and gleams like the liquid it resembles as she leans in to speak to him. Her hair falls forward, and Ivrael reaches up to sweep it back off her shoulder, his gaze meeting mine as he does so. And even from here on the far side of the ballroom, I swear I can see those gold sparks churning in his eyes.

Holding my stare, Ivrael leans forward and brushes a kiss across her shoulder, where his hand has just touched. She smiles, and a hot knife of emotion slices through my chest. At the sensation, dread settles like a heavy stone in the pit of my stomach.

I tell myself what I’m feeling is not jealousy.

It’s just some aftereffects of the wine, of whatever that Icecaix couple forced me to consume. It’s absolutely not jealousy.

I’ve been here too long, grown too complacent. I’ve started acting like I belong here. Like this is my world, and these are my people. But none of it belongs to me. And I don’t want to belong to it.

Not even if Ivrael’s gaze holds me captive every time he looks at me. If staring into his eyes makes me want to feel his mouth on me again.

“Oh, dusting damns,” Kila says, her gaze flickering between Ivrael and me. “We do need to leave. Right now. We never should have come up here in the first place.”

I know she’s right—the safest thing to do right now is get the hell out of here. But Ivrael said the firelord needed to make an entrance. I don’t know what he meant, but I want to find out, so I shake my head. “Not yet.”

Ivrael moves to the switch that controls the rotating ceiling. The Caix firelights dim, and the stars begin to dance through the ballroom. It serves as an effective distraction—no one’s thinking about the duke’s greeting any longer. Not even me.

I’m thinking about the day in the ballroom he showed me those same lights, and I’m fighting not to smile.

“Oh,” Kila breathes out. “I’ve never seen anything like that before.”

“I have.”

I’ve just finished speaking when one of the winged Caix, smaller than an adult human but much bigger than a raya, begins swooping around the ballroom, laughing maniacally.

As she comes close to our hiding place, I catch the reflected gleam of Caix firelights off of her pointed fangs. She sees us suddenly and flips upright in the air, her wings dragging back to pull her to a stop, then buzzing to keep her hovering just in front of us.

“Oh, shit,” I mutter.

The small Caix wears a short dress as sheer as her wings, just a tiny hint of color shimmering all around her body, her tiny, pointed breasts pressed against the fabric and clearly visible through it. For a split second, I wonder how many of the women below wear such transparent clothing.

But even as that thought crosses my mind, a ball of terror begins to congeal in my throat, and I discover I can’t swallow around it.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” she announces happily. “Duke Ivrael told us he would use only Caix servants tonight.” She claps her hands in delight. “But here you are, breaking the rules. I am going to have such fun with you tonight.” The joy in her smile as she flashes those sharp teeth terrifies me.

My heart seems to stop, then stutters in my chest, resolving into a hard thump and racing as adrenaline floods my mouth. The Caix in front of me seems to almost hear it, and she nods in time to my racing heartbeat.

Things are about to go seriously wrong. I know it from the instant she catches my eye, from the way her tinkling laugh turns into a cackle. The way that, when she smiles, those fangs of hers are tipped in blood.

But I can’t move.

I’m frozen in place, the buzz of her wings and the echo of her laugh holding me still as surely as any prey caught in a spider’s web. And there is no doubt that I am her prey.

I begin to silently struggle against whatever hold she’s using on me. Luckily, the hold isn’t perfect, and I’ve just begun to edge back from the ledge when the Icecaix reaches out and grabs my hair, one small fist wrenching me forward again as she once again uses some kind of Caix power to hold me in place.

“You don’t get to leave,” she announces, her tone some unholy mix between annoyed and cheerful. She opens her mouth wide, her jaw unhinging like a snake’s, her upper and lower fangs dripping some kind of venom. Beside me, Kila rises into the air, ready to do battle with this creature at least twenty times her size.

“Don’t,” I tell Kila, forcing the words out past the Caix-induced paralysis. “I’ll be okay.”

But we both know I won’t.

I try to pull away from the tiny monster, praying Ivrael will see and intervene, though for all I know, he’ll let me suffer whatever this monstrous mega-pixie has in mind.

At the same time, my mind races as I try to come up with other ways to escape, discarding plans as useless or too dangerous almost as quickly as I think of them.

In the end, though, all I want is for Ivrael to save me.

I tell myself that’s the last lingering effect of the drugged Caix wine, and I should shake it off. Still, there has to be someone here who will help, right?

I’m just opening my mouth to scream, even knowing that doing so is at least as likely to bring the unwanted attention of other Icecaix as it is to bring Ivrael—or anyone else, for that matter—to my rescue. I inhale, but I never have the chance to release it.

The double doors at the far end of the room crash open, and the Caix holding me twists her head around to look, then lets out a curse. She uncurls her fist from my hair, shaking her hand to untangle it from the clinging curls. Turning around completely to face the door, her mouth is still open—but this time it’s agape rather than preparing to attack with those nasty fangs of hers as she catches sight of the new arrival.

Tossing a black cloak away from one shoulder in a dramatic motion, the younger firelord I saw earlier strides into the ballroom, the golden shimmering scales along his neck and jawline a warm contrast to the ice-cold colors of the Icecaix .

I expect him to say something immediately, but he waits as the ballroom slowly falls silent, awareness of his presence growing like a wave washing over the Caix, starting with those closest to the firelord and rippling outward through the crowd.

The music falters, trailing to a stop. All the dancers who haven’t already gone motionless—those Caix on the dance floor who had not yet noticed the firelord’s entrance—stumble, finally stopping too.

But I see all this only in my peripheral vision. I’m not watching any of them because almost the instant I realize the firelord has entered the room, my gaze shifts to Ivrael—only to discover that the duke is already watching me again, the ice-cold blue of his eyes glimmering with something hot.

Meanwhile, Lady Uanna, still standing next to Ivrael, claps her hand to her mouth in horror as she catches sight of the firelord—but then she realizes Ivrael is staring up, and she follows the line of his sight straight up to me. Her nostrils flare, and her gaze turns cold.

I drag my gaze away from his—but I’m not sure if it’s a smart move.

I have no idea which creature in this room is most dangerous.

The firelord’s scales begin to shimmer, his skin glowing so brightly I almost have to look away—but I manage to squint so I don’t have to take my eyes off him.

I’m not the only one watching, either. Everyone in the ballroom has frozen. Even the fanged Caix about to attack Kila and me has paused and turned around to hover in the air, staring at the firelord who has shown up at an Ice Court ball, directly contravening their treaty.

The young firelord opens his mouth as if to speak, but he doesn’t. He instead inhales and lets out a roar too loud for any human—or any human-sized Caix, as far as I know.

The sound fills the entire ballroom, then expands further, forcing itself into my ears, my mind, every cell of my body. I can’t hear anything else, can’t think, can’t even see as my vision blurs out in a shimmering field of gold.

I clap my hands over my ears and squeeze my eyes shut, but it does little to block out the noise.

The entire ballroom seems to tremble and shake, the floor beneath us bucking and groaning as the ground shudders and the house creaks.

When the enormous, overwhelming sound finally ends, vanishing from my mind more like water draining away than like echoes disappearing, I realize I’m curled into a ball on the ledge, my face buried against my knees. Kila has dropped onto my shoulder, also curled in on herself.

We’re both panting. The agony of that aural and psychic assault has left me exhausted. And when I glance down at the ballroom floor, I find many of the Caix huddled together.

Some of them fell to the floor and now lie prone with their arms crossed over their heads. Others dropped to their knees. A few cling to each other, sobbing. None of those with wings are flying at the moment.

A ripple passes through the firelord’s golden skin, his chest swelling and stretching like molten metal being forged. Scales burst through his flesh in waves, each one catching the light in turn. His fine waistcoat and jacket split at the seams, fabric shredding as his body expands beyond its constraints.

His bones crack and reform with sounds like breaking timber. His spine elongates, vertebrae pushing through skin already turned to armor. His neck stretches upward as his skull reshapes itself, jaw extending, teeth lengthening into daggers that glint in the reflected Caixlights.

Wings erupt from his shoulder blades in a spray of golden scales, membranes unfurling like silk banners caught in wind. Each wing tip scratches the ceiling as they spread to their full span, and heat shimmers in the air around them.

His hands curl into talons, nails extending into obsidian hooks longer than my forearm. His feet burst from his boots, claws scoring deep grooves in the marble floor. A tail lashes out behind him, thick as a tree trunk and tipped with spikes that look sharp enough to pierce armor .

Where moments ago stood a man my height, now towers a beast that nearly brushes the ballroom’s vaulted ceiling. Power radiates from him in visible waves, distorting the air like heat over summer roads. Every breath he takes sounds like a forge’s bellows, and sulfur taints the air.

His eyes, though—his eyes remain the same, filled with cruel intelligence, and they fix on the Caix below with predatory focus.

My body vibrates with the raw force of his presence, like standing too close to lightning-struck metal. I’ve never felt so small, so fragile, so utterly at the mercy of something that could snuff out my existence with a single breath.

Everyone below me seems frozen in terror, unable to move. The entire ballroom holds its breath in disbelief, unwilling to accept that this is really happening.

The monstrous creature swings his head from side to side, surveying the entire room.

The movement shocks people out of their stupor, and several of them turn to run. But before they can get very far, the firelord inhales again, pulling the air into his lungs so fast that it turns cold as it blows past me, almost seeming to draw the breath out of my lungs. At the last minute I grab Kila to keep her from tumbling head over feet across the ballroom and being sucked into the dragon’s mouth.

Several of the Caix who were running are pulled off their feet or dragged backward by the gusts of dragon-induced wind, unable to get away.

And then the dragon blasts the ballroom with his fiery breath.

I t’s a conflagration.

Flame bursts forth from his mouth in a stream of fire. Icecaix scream as everyone directly in the path of the firelord’s fire is swept into the inferno. The huge gouts of flame rush out through the center of the room, cutting through a swath of fleeing Icecaix. Their screams take on a higher pitch, and then are cut off sharply as they’re swallowed in flame and their vocal cords snap or melt.

At first, I see everything as if it’s in slow motion, the Caix-wine combining with sheer horror to freeze me in place, slow my responses.

The dragonfire explodes against the opposite wall, the flames flashing out and licking up the nearest wall, so hot I can barely see it except in its effects—that silver and white wallpaper curling up, the shimmering shadow of a heat mirage wavering in the air above it as each rolling strip is limned first in a bright glowing orange and then crumbles away into black ash.

Pandemonium erupts throughout the ballroom, and my vision snaps back into real time. Uncertain which way to run, the remaining Icecaix rush toward the only exits on the opposite side of the room from the dragon. The firelord turns his attention to the door directly opposite him, taking several steps forward, the whole house trembling as he moves.

The Icecaix headed toward that door haven’t made it across the ballroom yet. Those who glance back speed up, shoving people out of their way left and right, pushing several of the smaller Caix to the ground, where they’re trampled, crushed under the feet of other Ice Court members. But mowing down their companions does the Caix no good—only a few make it through the exit before the dragon looses his fire on them.

The short, big-eared, bulbous-eyed Icecaix who fed me poisoned wine falls to the ground as he attempts to run. The dragon doesn’t even look at him. His enormous clawed foot comes down on the Icecaix with a horrific crunching sound, and when the dragon takes another step, he leaves a bloody footprint behind. As he moves forward, his tail drags through a small pile of gore, spreading it across the floor.

All of this happens in moments. When I look for Duke Ivrael, he’s gone, and so is Lady Uanna. I don’t know how they escaped—but I never doubt that they did.

The dragon swings its head back and forth, its eyes gleaming as it chooses its next victims. I see Oriana as she tries to run toward the other door, the edge of the fire licking against the hem of her dress and flashing upward, consuming her in an instant. Her mouth opens in a rictus scream, and at the last second, her eyes turn upward and focus on me as I watch from above.

Almost as if in slow motion, I see the skin melt away from her face. Within seconds, the smell of charred flesh rises in the air. It drifts toward me, smelling like the cooked meat none of these Icecaix would ever consume. To my horror, my stomach growls and my mouth waters in response.

Fires burns throughout the ballroom, and the silver on the wallpaper reflects the flickering of the red-gold flames, turning the whole room into a roaring hellscape.

The dragon steps up close to the ledge where Kila and I sit frozen in shock. He arches his neck gracefully, bringing his head closer to us, and I press my back against the wall, my heels digging into the wood in front of me, as if I can push all the way through. Next to my ear, Kila squeaks and huddles into the crook of my neck.

He swings his head, ponderously, side to side, looking at me through giant, jewel-toned eyes that seem to swirl with flashes of color. They’re mesmerizing, and they hold me in place—exactly where he needs me, though I’m not sure how I know that.

I swallow, hard, and I swear that fucker smiles. It’s a toothy grin, full of mischief and malice. He huffs out a laugh on his next breath, hot and full of sulfur and brimstone—with a smell like ozone, reminiscent of a sparking electrical wire—and when he draws his head back and inhales, I know what’s coming.

Kila gets swept up in the draft created by that inhalation. Her tiny body slides off my shoulder and tumbles past me. I scramble after her, catching her by one doll-sized ankle.

And then on instinct, I yank her in against my chest, curving around her protectively as I spin to put my back between the Starcaix raya and the firelord in his most monstrous shape.

Even though I know it won’t save her.

Even though I know we’re both about to die.

When the dragon breathes fire, the roar surrounds me as the flames hit my back, blocking out every other sound. And for the first time, I realize it’s not really the dragon that’s been roaring—it’s the sound of the fire itself.

Kila starts screaming, high-pitched and shrill, but it just adds to the cacophony in the ballroom.

The tremendous heat crackles where it hits my spine. There’s a brief flare of pain, but it’s gone in an instant and I’m left with nothing but fire streaming past me on either side.

I know all this with a weird detachment, as if I’m somewhere outside my body cataloging all the sensations. Until there are no sensations left and I am left with only my own observations.

So this is what it’s like to die.

I imagine my body melting, skin crackling, nerves flashing away in an instant. Blood boiling, bones charring black, until I am left as only ashes swirling across the snow of this frozen place…

The dragon inhales again, and all the flames that have been streaming past me disappear. That’s when I realize I shouldn’t be able to see anymore. I shouldn’t have eyes anymore. Or a body, for that matter.

But I have all those things—and more than that, I can still move.

I clutch Kila to me and scoot back through the servants’ doorway, slamming it closed behind me just as I hear the dragon inhale again, preparing again to breathe out huge gouts of flame.

Everyone dies at Starfrost Manor.

Bile crawls up my throat, and I try to swallow it down. I’m reminded of the boy Ivrael arranged to have dragged to the gallows and strung up my first full day here.

My hand tightens spasmodically around Kila, and she squeals.

She’s still alive. Thank God.

I crouch low and scramble down the hallway, racing around a bend just in time to evade another blast of fire the dragon sends after me—a torrent of flame that blows the door off its hinges and sends a wild volley of fire flaring through the hall where I was just running.

I collapse back against the wall. The scrape of wood against my shoulder blades alerts me to the fact that the back of my dress is completely gone. I glance down to find it hanging on me by the sleeves.

The rest of it must have burned away.

My throat closes on the thought. What if I’m not in pain because all the skin on my back is gone?

“Kila?” I whisper, and my voice comes out hoarse and dry. “Will you make sure…can you check my back and make sure I’m okay?”

She whips around to stare at me in surprise. “You think…” Then she glances at my dress. “Of course.”

I stand tall, but my heart pounds as the raya flits around my back. When she reappears to hover in front of me, she’s shaking her head, a frown wrinkling her forehead. “You’re fine.”

“What the hell?” I mutter.

That cooked-meat scent drifts under the door and hits my nose again. That’s when I can no longer hold down my revulsion, bending over and vomiting in the crawlspace until there’s nothing left to heave up, the horror clawing through my mind at odds with the response of my body to what smells like barbeque.

“Come on,” Kila’s voice shrills from where she’s landed atop my head, her tiny body shuddering against me. “We can’t stay here.”

I know she’s right. The floor under me heats up suddenly, reminding me that the ballroom behind me, with its beautiful twirling ceiling and glowing stars, is burning, and the fire could break through the thin wood at any moment.

Dragging the back of my hand across my mouth, I nod and crawl down the corridor until I can stand. Then I clutch Kila and race back down toward the kitchen. If the corridor hasn’t burned to the ground by morning , I think disjointedly, I’ll clean the pile of vomit .

Though to be honest, I kind of hope someone else cleans it.

Assuming there’s anyone else left in the duke’s service who hasn’t been burned alive…at the duke’s order.

Stunned by this realization, I trip over nothing as we exit onto the back staircase and fall to my hands and knees on the landing, barely comprehending what I’ve seen tonight.

Tears drip down my face, and I rock back and forth as I try to sort it out, like trying to put together a puzzle, and the picture it creates is ugly at best. When it all comes together, I sit back on my heels and stare at nothing as Kila begins tugging on what’s left of my dress, urging me to keep going.

Ivrael planned this betrayal of his own people. For tonight’s festivities—tonight’s bonfire—he chose servants he believed had been spying on him for the Ice Court, allowing them to be immolated by the firelord.

At the realization, my stomach convulses again, my entire body trembles, and my teeth start chattering so hard I’m afraid they might crack.

The man who decided to hang a servant for being “disloyal” arranged to have his own people burned alive. The same man who has complete control of my life—and is about to have control over my sister, too.

Duke Ivrael can never, under any circumstances, be trusted.

He’s a villain.

No. It’s worse than that. He’s not just a villain.

He’s a monster.