Page 6 of The Alien’s Cruel Starfrost Domain (Empire of Frost and Flame #1)

CHAPTER 6

IVRAEL

I managed to host Mib Svalkat in my home for almost thirty solar quintclicks—a full day—without allowing the baron to set eyes on the new woman in my household. I should have known it couldn’t last. It had long been rumored he had a taste for servant girls.

For the most part, I would trust the young women in my service to handle themselves. The Caix women, that is.

Those same rumormongers, though, whispered Svalkat preferred humans, that he liked to leave them drained, vacant-eyed, all vitality siphoned from them. Then again, I’d heard other whispers too, and those said he left his lovers satisfied, happy, content.

I wasn’t sure which outcome I feared more.

Turning Lara into a kitchen drudge had been designed to keep her safe for as long as possible, keep her from being noticed by bastards like the baron.

My own plans might require her death, but there was no reason for her to suffer in the meantime.

I still told myself that hiding her away, treating her as a servant, was for her own good, was because the Caix are cruel. Easier to lie to myself when the baron was an immediate danger.

But the longer she was in my home, the more I found myself wondering if there had been any kindness in stealing away her last year.

If I could have found a way to be absolutely certain Lara wouldn’t draw the baron’s eye, I would have implemented it. I even considered giving her that first night off. But any formal Caix dinner, even one served to only two people, requires servants to complete the work, and releasing Lara from that work would have drawn the other servants’ attention to her.

To avoid that, I simply asked Adefina to have dinner served in the small dining room, and to keep all kitchen staff out of sight when we had guests.

My cook frowned, but she could do little but agree. I hoped that would be enough to protect Lara from my unwelcome guest.

So when the dining room door swung open long enough to give a glimpse of Lara passing a tureen of chilled soup to one of the footmen, I flinched, barely stopping myself from getting up to slam the door shut.

Instead, I prayed that Svalkat did not see her.

The baron, damn his eyes, caught my aborted motion.

His interest piqued, he raised an eyebrow and tilted his head to glance through the doorway as the door swung in increasingly shorter arcs. “Who is that glorious creature?”

I bit back a curse. So much for my prayer.

“Who?” I managed to ask calmly as I reached for my wine goblet.

“The redhead.”

“Oh, her.” I gave a dismissive wave as I took a swig of wine. “No one. Or rather, no one important. Merely a new servant I picked up at the Trasqo Market the last time I was on Earth.”

“Oh, really?” He picked up his own goblet, finished it off, then gestured to the footman for a refill. “I didn’t hear of any auction—and it does seem as if someone that lovely would have gone to auction.”

My mind was scrambling, but I managed to maintain a placid exterior, giving the Baron a tight smile. “Yes, well,” I hedged. “I have an agreement with one of the vendors.”

“That sounds expensive.”

“Oh, it is. And I paid a hefty price for her, as well.” I cast about for some way to change the subject—but the baron was determined to learn more.

“Please tell me she is not merely a kitchen drudge. That would be a waste.”

I went still. “A waste?”

“Oh, absolutely.” He took another long drink from the goblet. “I wouldn’t keep someone like that in the kitchen.”

With that, I was no longer struggling to find the right words to say. “Oh, no?”

My voice had gone quiet, but Svalkat wasn’t paying attention. He jerked his chin toward the door, now closed, and spoke loudly. “A girl that beautiful is made to be used for pleasure.”

Frozen anger swept through my veins, bringing my frost magic surging to the surface with all the strength of my bloodline, connected to the power of this land for a thousand cycles.

Svalkat didn’t notice my reaction initially, having drunk far too much of my wine to keep his wits about him. “If you don’t plan to do anything with her yourself, I’d be happy to find a use for her.”

He waggled his eyebrows and turned toward me, then froze as he finally noticed my reaction.

My jaw tightened and my nostrils flared as I leaned forward, staring directly into the baron’s eyes.

Without so much as twitching, Svalkat tracked my movements .

I held his gaze. Ice crackled under my words. “That girl is mine.”

“I see.”

“I’m warning you, Svalkat.” My voice dropped lower. “Do not spoil my purchase.”

Slowly, he raised both hands as if to surrender. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

For a long moment, we held that position. Finally, I nodded and leaned back in my dining chair, taking another deliberate slug of wine from the goblet.

Only then did I glance toward the door again—where I found Lara standing rooted to the floor just on the other side of the doorway as it swung open again to allow the next footman through with another course.

Her eyes went round as she realized I was watching her. I drew in a deep breath, and in that moment, I wanted her more than I ever have. Part of me wished I had bought her for my pleasure, that I had no other agenda. Then I would have been able to follow these urges, making my way to the kitchen and fucking her senseless right there on the hearthstone.

I pinned her in place with my gaze while I imagined making her scream. A low growl rumbled in my throat, and a slow, wicked smile curved across my lips.

Oh, princess. The things I could do to you.

Almost as if she could hear my thoughts, her eyes widened even further. With a gasp, she finally unpinned herself from the floor and spun on her heel, racing toward the kitchen.

Away from me.

A fear-scent floated across the room in her wake, and my cock hardened at the piquant spice of it.

It was all I could do to rip my attention away from her—to stop myself from rising and following her without any care at all for what Svalkat might decide such an action could mean. But after a long moment, I turned back to my guest, forcing myself to smile politely and return to normal dinner conversation.

To act as though I hadn’t just threatened that guest’s life over a servant girl. One I had every intention of killing myself within a matter of a few ten-days.

I was halfway sure I was losing my mind.

And yet… a single thought echoed through my mind.

No one can touch her but me.

S ince that night, Baron Svalkat has avoided mentioning Lara at all. Otherwise, though, his behavior since his arrival has only served to confirm my suspicion that he’s spying for Prince Jonyk.

The morning of the third day of the baron’s spying visit, we go hunting in the forest, riding conjured horses I’ve provided—the expenditure of power both a courtesy and a show of strength—and he begins questioning me.

“So tell me, Ivrael,” the Baron says with a sidelong glance at me, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. “Have you been offworld lately?”

The question is a trap, of course. He wouldn’t ask if he didn’t already know.

“I have.” I offer nothing else. Better to make him dig for the information he wants.

He makes an interested noise. “And you don’t find these off-planet jaunts of yours draining?”

That isn’t truly his question. What he really wants to know is if I find my interplanetary travels less tiring than average for a noble Caix or if I am somehow immune to the magic-dampening effects of the technology I use to complete that travel.

“A little.” I pause and lean down in my saddle to check the ground as if I am examining animal tracks. Shaking my head as if disappointed, I straighten. “No more than most Caix would.”

We ride along in silence for a while—a silence I hope he finds companionable, as I’m working hard to keep it from becoming tense.

“You have an artificial pilot, do you not?”

“I prefer to captain my ship myself,” I say, avoiding answering his question.

“I’m certain you do,” Svalkat murmurs.

If I’m going to keep him from snooping, I should probably give him some small nugget to chew over. “But yes, I do have an artificial intelligence aboard the ship. That’s why I keep her docked at our southern pole.” I flash him a practiced smile. “I wouldn’t want to exacerbate our troubles.”

“Indeed.” He draws the word out. “And you dock your ship there in order to help keep the magical magnetics in order?”

“Exactly. All technology must be maintained, its magnetics shielded and contained,” I say, “technological intelligences more so than most.” That’s the common wisdom, anyway. “And of course,” I add piously, “I follow all Caix laws regarding tech.”

“And yet, I don’t believe our neighbors to the east have such difficulties with their magics, do they?”

We both glance at the mountains rising directly east of my realm, where the firelord king’s keep sits overlooking both his kingdom and my domain.

Whatever the baron is fishing for, I’m tired of his games. “Is there a particular reason you’re asking for confirmation of facts any Caix schoolchild already knows?”

The baron throws his head back and laughs. “Not at all. Simply making conversation.”

Right. As if Baron Svalkat has ever simply made conversation in his entire life.

As long as we’re having this conversation, I might as well see if I can tease out why the baron is here, along with what—if anything—he knows about the firelord king having left his kingdom recently. I’ve heard nothing from my firelord contacts suggesting King Kavan has traveled since Cyan and I caught sight of his vessel outside the shipping lanes, but perhaps there are rumors in the Ice Court that I’ve missed, having spent most of this year away.

“You’ve been in Prince Jonyk’s court recently, correct?” I ask the baron.

“I have,” he says in rapturous tones, even going so far as to hold a hand to his heart. “And what a wonderful season it was—all that amazing dancing and feasting.” He tosses me a sly glance. “And the prince has acquired some of the most delightful servants recently.” His expression takes on a cruel cast. “A few of them were even willing.”

My mind flashes to Lara. But I don’t allow myself to pause, to think over my words or choose them too carefully. I don’t want to give him any more reason than he already has to search out more information about her.

Besides, this gives me the opening I’ve been waiting for.

“How lovely,” I reply, though I know I don’t come close to matching his tone. “I assume some of them were off-worlders?”

I can practically see the baron’s pointed ears perking up. “Indeed they were. A few humans from Earth mixed in with a couple of firelord females.” He gives a dramatic, if overly delicate, shudder. “So vile. The firelords, I mean. Did you know that Prince Jonyk has had to have the fire glands removed from several of his new servants? Cruel, I’ve heard some courtiers say, but of course it was necessary—they would insist on spitting flames at everyone who came near.”

“Is the prince not concerned that the firelord king might discover what he’s done?”

The baron gives a dismissive wave of his hand, and a shaft of sunlight breaks through the clouds, flashing on the baronial ring he wears on his pinky finger, the stone of which is a dark, glittering blue. I assume the ring was designed to mimic the twisted Starfire crown crafted by the original Caix King and rumored to hold great power.

The same crown I currently have hidden away in my bedchamber.

The one Lara led me to.

I drag my attention back to the conversation. Luckily, I don’t seem to have missed anything crucial. The baron is still explaining why Prince Jonyk doesn’t care if the firelord king learns he has tortured firelord subjects.

“After all,” Svalkat is saying, “we are doing no less to them than they have always done to us.”

I make a non-committal noise as he drones on, unwilling to agree with his they-started-it-first logic, but not wanting to alienate the baron, either.

I need to get this conversation back on track.

“And I assume the human slaves came directly from Earth?” I interrupt his monologue, and he almost stumbles over his words.

“Of course—they are ever so much more fun when they don’t understand what’s happening to them. Once they’ve been here a few star-cycles”—he gives a faux-sad shrug and a conspiratorial wink—“they’re just so… broken. But of course, you already know that.” He slants me an oily smile to match the wink. “After all, you have your new purchase to play with.”

The man is foul.

I don’t particularly want to draw his attention again to Cyan, but that seems the easiest way to bring him back to the subject of space travel. “Does Prince Jonyk’s ship have an artificial pilot?”

Svalkat pauses and stares at me, narrowing his eyes. “You know, it never occurred to me to ask.”

I don’t believe that for a moment.

Despite my attempts to allow the conversation to develop naturally, Baron Svalkat seems to have picked up on the topic I’m truly interested in discussing.

Apparently, if I want this information, I’m going to have to pay for it.

But I’m not certain I will be willing to pay the price Mib Svalkat is likely to ask.

“That’s unfortunate,” I say, still trying to keep my tone disinterested. “I was wondering what steps he takes to mitigate his impact, to minimize his technological damage of our magics.” I, too, take on a faux-sad tone. “Oh, well.” I duck down as I ride under the branch of a needle-tree.

Luckily for me, Svalkat isn’t willing to let the subject drop. “Are you seeing the effects of tech damage on magics this close to the firelords’ border?”

And thus, despite himself, the baron betrays his own interests. He’s here to suss out how much the magic of my domain has been affected by our realm’s weakening magical fields.

Here, I have to tread even more carefully than before as I answer his question. I can’t let him believe that my domain is weak—he will use that information against me. Nor can I allow him to know how strong I am, either. That could be almost as dangerous.

I can’t risk anyone learning the secrets I hide.

And so I give the baron a half truth. “My own magics don’t seem to be affected much at all, though I have noticed a decline in those magical creatures who, for instance, make these woods their home.” I pause as if considering all the ramifications of my words. “I suppose this could be because we are so very far from the center of the realm—maybe our magical fields were always weaker to begin with.”

“Ah, yes. Perhaps.”

But the baron is not as foolish as he pretends to be. He couldn’t have gained as much political influence as he has if he were the idiot he plays at being.

He doesn’t believe me any more than I believe him.

“You know, I don’t think there is any prey to be found out here this morning,” I finally say—and I’m certain we’re both aware of the double meaning in my words.

“Mmm,” the baron murmurs in agreement, inhaling and then opening his mouth as if he might say something.

He apparently thinks better of it, though, and we ride back toward Starfrost Manor in silence. When we reach the courtyard, I dismiss the horses, sending them swirling back into the air in glittering fragments of ice and snow. I’m glad to be back home, already tired of worrying about the man and what he might or might not learn while he’s here, who he might attempt to seduce, what he might possibly be planning.

And yet, as we head inside, I can’t help but wonder what the baron was about to say to me—about technology, about magic.

Perhaps about prey?

I have to admit to myself, if no one else, that I’m tired of worrying about protecting Lara from someone like Baron Svalkat when I know I won’t be able to protect her from myself.

Not once I have her sister, too.