Page 9 of The Alien’s Cruel Starfrost Domain (Empire of Frost and Flame #1)

CHAPTER 9

IVRAEL

I ’m not a monster.

Or so I tell myself in the cold still darkness of a Starfrost night. My plan is necessary. And if it requires sacrificing innocents—well, it will save thousands more.

That has become the mantra I repeat to myself almost as often as I repeat the details of the plan itself. And yet I never quite believe it.

I know myself too well.

In the end, it doesn’t matter what I am, I’m sure. Beast or hero, it’s all the same—my actions will not change. In less than a single ten-day, I will return to Earth to acquire the younger Evans sister, and then I will begin the next phase of my plan.

The plan that will lead to Lara and Izzy Evans’ deaths and my world’s salvation.

But there are things I need to set in motion here before I can leave Trasq, starting with arranging to meet with my firelord contact—riskier now that one of Jonyk’s spies is in my household.

I spend the morning taking care of some of the smaller details of the estate—in particular, some elements of commerce. I also take the time to write to Lord Vazor, trusting the firelord will recognize my veiled request to meet.

When the letter is sealed and addressed, I take it down to the foyer myself.

To be sure, I could ring a bell to bring a footman to me, but I’ve been trapped at my desk dealing with estate matters for several solar-clicks already, and I feel the need to stretch myself. I’ve been cooped up in the same place for far too long now.

And worse, I can feel the conjunction of the double full moon moving toward me like a living creature, winding itself around my bones and joints, exerting a subtle squeeze, a pressure as sure as a heartbeat, counting down the days.

That strain will only get worse—it’s headed my direction, and soon I will have to answer. It’s coming, no matter what schemes I put into place.

For now, though, I shake off the thought. I have more immediate issues to deal with. Perhaps later, I will go for a walk in the woods, stretch myself as much as I am able to here and now.

The rest will have to wait.

Still, I find myself all but running down the stairs in the meantime, taking the steps two at a time, unable to completely restrain my need to take quicker, longer strides.

I hand the sealed envelope to the new underbutler, the young Caix male from the village who is training to join my security team. “You know where to take this, correct?”

And at just that moment, the baron pops up out of nowhere. I’m beginning to wonder if he uses some form of concealment magic or if he has merely perfected the art of sneaking about.

“Oh, you have letters going out?” he asks brightly. “I have a few I need to post as well.” He points at the underbutler, whose name I never can remember. “Do not go anywhere. I’ll return momentarily with my own post to add.” The baron spins on his heel and scurries off. But not before I see him give a sidelong glance at the address on the envelope.

The underbutler waits until Svalkat has disappeared up the stairs, and then turns to me, wide-eyed. “But this letter isn’t going through the regular post, is it?” he stammers.

I give him a pat on the shoulder. “Not to worry. You can send Fintan to the village to drop the baron’s letters. Just don’t let Svalkat see you hand them off, yes?”

The boy looks worried but nods.

I try to tell myself it doesn’t matter if the baron sees that I am communicating with a firelord. After all, as the only Icecaix estate bordering the firelords’ lands, Starfrost has for generations been the conduit for what trade our two peoples conduct.

That trade has been my cover for communicating with Vazor for quite some time now. Still, I shake my head and sigh. Baron Svalkat has been little other than an irritant since his arrival. I wouldn’t be surprised if he somehow broke that cover.

I turn around to head back upstairs and almost bowl Lara over, smacking into her and then reaching out to steady her, grasping her upper arms just below her shoulders.

When I touch her, a spark jumps through my body, an electrical shock directly to my heart, then shooting down to my cock, making me instantly hard. Just from a minor touch. And not even touching skin to skin, just my bare hands rubbing against her sweater.

She stares up at me with her topaz-brown eyes, her tongue flicking out to wet her lips, and my hands tighten convulsively on her shoulders.

Her gaze flickers downward as if it’s being pulled against her will, landing on my erection pressing against the placket of my breeches, straining toward her. She lets out a little gasp.

When she moves her gaze back upward to meet mine, something twists behind her eyes.

“I was going to clean your study,” she murmurs, her voice shaking.

The scent of her repressed emotion, tasting of both fear and desire, calls to the beast inside me, and my voice comes out harsh and gruff as I take in her torn and frayed clothing. “Don’t you have anything else to wear?”

I fight the urge to sweep her into my arms, carry her up to my room, and strip her out of those clothes.

I begin to tremble as I picture the rest of it, the images flashing through my mind. I imagine myself smoothing her hair from her face. Pressing her down into the bed. Pinning her beneath me. Opening her legs. Using her as another Icecaix might use a servant. Or better yet, seducing her…

Fuck . If only she weren’t so integral to my plans to overthrow Prince Jonyk. Plans that have only solidified even further over the last few days.

“I have something Adefina gave me to wear on wash days,” she says, and it takes me a moment to remember what I’d asked.

My lips tighten. Clothing. Right.

The look I give her is full of anger, as much at myself as at her. Lara is doing double duty, working as both a kitchen drudge and a housemaid since Adefina doesn’t actually need any help in the kitchen, so the Earth woman’s position in the household is an odd one. And thus no one has thought to clothe her correctly.

Including me.

Because you’ve been trying to ignore her entirely , a voice inside me accuses, and some emotion—shame, guilt?—burns through me.

I shove down both the voice and the reaction as hard as I can. They, like my desire for Lara, have no place in my current schemes. My fingers tighten again. Finally realizing I’m still clutching her, I peel my hands away from Lara.

I’m still glaring at her when movement on the stairs catches my attention. My gaze flickers upward to find Baron Svalkat standing on the first landing of the grand staircase where it splits into two, heading toward the east and west wings. He stands paused with one hand on the railing, the other clutching several envelopes, his eyebrows raised and his face frozen in an expression of interest as he takes in the tableau at the foot of the stairs.

Although I’m no longer touching her, I realize my fingers are still hovering mere inches from Lara’s shoulders. I take a step back from her, dropping my hands behind my back and clasping them .

“You may go.” I wait a beat before adding, “Please ensure that you tidy my writing desk.” With a slight nod, I dismiss her.

Lara glances between the Baron and me, and then drops a reasonable facsimile of a curtsy—but her face is screwed up in a scowl. I wonder, not for the first time, exactly how much of our conversation she heard the night of the baron’s first dinner at Starfrost Manor.

When she glances up at me, I no longer see some undefined emotion in her eyes. This time, it’s anger. Pure, unadulterated, burning, hot rage.

Feel that , I find myself urging her silently. Let it fuel you .

And as she turns to head toward my study, her back is perfectly straight, unbowed.

Unbroken.

I can’t help but stare after her as she makes her exit.

“Well,” the baron says, dropping his satin-slippered foot from where it had been hovering over the next step down. “Here are those letters I promised.” He finishes tripping lightly down the stairs and drops the envelopes onto the underbutler’s silver tray. “I assume these will go out today?”

But I can tell he’s not actually interested in the answer—his thoughtful gaze keeps drifting down the hallway after Lara.

It’s all I can do not to remind him yet again that she belongs to me.

Instead, though, I answer his query. “Yes. In fact, Tenyt”—I’ve remembered the servant’s name finally—“will take them now.”

I nod toward Tenyt, who gives a quick bow and leaves while he still can. As he scurries by, I take the opportunity to snatch my own glimpse of the baron’s letters.

I can read only the direction on the top envelope, but it’s going out to Prince Jonyk’s residence. I have to wonder what insights into life at Starfrost he’s given our glorious monarch.

Unfortunately, there’s no opportunity to ask Tenyt to review the letters before sending them out.

Once again, motion at the top of the stairs catches my attention. This time it’s Khrint, who seems to be shadowing the baron, albeit subtly.

The baron is watching me closely as if to ascertain my response to his letters’ addresses, so I can’t even give Khrint a meaningful look in the hopes he'll understand my desire to know what’s in the letters.

No. I’ll simply have to trust that whatever the baron has to tell the prince, it won’t come anywhere near conveying the true danger I pose to Jonyk.

There’s almost no way it could.

I rarely entertain firelords in my personal chambers—and by all rights, that should be doubly true when I have spies like Svalkat in my home.

Yet Khrint ushered Vazor to my private rooms while Svalkat and I ate dinner, because Vazor is different.

For one thing, Vazor is willing to meet me here in Starfrost Manor rather than insisting we convene on neutral ground. For another, he shares my vision for the future of our world—even if our reasons differ.

When I reach my sitting room, I realize the temperature inside the room has already risen ten degrees. I can feel the heat radiating off him as he paces back and forth across the room, his golden eyes gleaming in the dim light. The flames dancing in the fireplace reflect off Vazor’s golden scales, casting an eerie glow across his angular face.

Even in his humanoid form, there’s no mistaking what he is—his skin shines with an inner fire, and his eyes gleam with predatory intelligence. Like most firelords, he carries an inner flame that manifests physically—in his case, as subtle ripples of orange and red that glimmer beneath his bronze skin.

I’ve known him for decades, and still, something primal in me wants to draw back when he smiles, revealing teeth just a bit too sharp to pass for noble Caix. Instead, I shut the door behind me.

“The usual?” I ask, moving to pour him a glass of wine.

“Please.” Vazor settles into one of my leather chairs, his long legs stretched out before him. “Though I must say, I’m always surprised you’d waste such a fine vintage on me. I’m not exactly a connoisseur.”

I hand him the glass. “Consider it a gesture of goodwill.”

“Ah yes. Goodwill.” His laugh is sardonic. “Is that what we’re calling our little conspiracy these days?”

I take my own seat behind my desk, positioning myself so I can watch both Vazor and the door. “Conspiracy implies we’re doing something wrong. I prefer to think of it as... strategic planning.”

“Call it what you will.” Vazor takes a sip of wine. “The fact remains that Prince Jonyk and King Kavan are determined to broker this peace treaty. And we both know that can’t happen.”

I lean back, steepling my fingers. “Have you learned anything new about your king’s offworld trip last cycle?”

“My sources continue to tell me it never happened.” He gives me a long, level look. “How much do you trust your information?”

I pause. Cyan’s the source of that information, of course, and I’ve gone through the files myself, searching for any sign of deception, any failure of analysis.

“As much as I’d trust my own senses,” I finally say before changing the subject. “How is the peace treaty going? What do you know about the negotiations? What concessions is King Kavan offering?”

“He’s promising to limit research into new uses of quantum computing technology. Clean energy systems. Medical advances.” Vazor counts them off on his fingers. “Everything Jonyk has been desperately trying to keep out of Icecaix lands.”

“Because he knows everyone’s technology weakens our magic,” I say. “He’s not wrong about that.”

“No, but he’s wrong about the solution.” Vazor leans forward, his eyes intense. “The Caix can’t keep living in the past, pretending technology doesn’t exist. The world is changing. Evolution is inevitable.”

“Perhaps.” I take a careful sip of wine. “But change must be managed carefully. Too much too fast leads to chaos.”

“Is that not what we’re planning?” Vazor’s smile is sharp. “Chaos?”

“Controlled chaos,” I correct him. “A carefully orchestrated collapse that will allow us to rebuild something better.”

“Ah yes. Your mysterious solution.” Vazor studies me. “You still won’t tell me the details?”

“Not yet.” I meet his gaze steadily. “You know I trust you, Vazor, but this is too important. The fewer people who know the full plan, the better.”

He inclines his head, acknowledging the point. “Fair enough. Though I hope you’ll share it before we reach the point of no return.”

“You’ll know everything you need to know when the time comes.” I resist the urge to get up and pace. “And your king suspects nothing?”

“He’s too focused on his dream of peace.” Vazor’s tone drips with contempt. “He actually believes the Caix will honor any treaty they sign.”

“Jonyk won’t,” I say flatly. “He’ll use it to buy time while he tries to find his own solution to our failing magic.”

“By all rights, we should have taken over your lands generations ago.” Vazor shakes his head and leans back in the chair.

“The firelords certainly have the technological advantage,” I acknowledge. “Certainly for as long as we Caix continue to outlaw tech and your people don’t. But as long as we hold our magic, you won’t be able to control the Caix.”

Vazor snorts, shaking his head as he swirls his glass of wine, staring deeply into it. “And yet we both know your magic is dying.”

I flinch at his words—but he isn’t wrong. Jonyk has tried to slow the drain on our magic by outlawing anything more than the most basic of technology. And what tech is allowed is only that tech supported by our powers.

Anything else—like my ship, like Cyan—must remain at the southernmost planetary pole, where its magic-killing magnetics are presumed to bleed off into space. Yet, despite these precautions, the land is dying, and with it, our magic, the wellspring of all our powers, is drying up. And no matter what we do, we can’t seem to stop it.

Or rather, no matter what Jonyk does.

I have the answer to our problems. But when I tried to give him my solution, the prince of the Icecaix wouldn’t listen. The self-righteous prick .

He deserves what’s coming for him.

“And the trade restrictions?” I ask, hoping to get away from the topic of our dying magic.

“Those haven’t helped Jonyk’s case.” Vazor’s smile turns cruel. “It’s remarkable how quickly loyalty crumbles when profit margins shrink.”

“Have you secured the support we discussed?”

Vazor stretches, his movements liquid fire. “Most of the western clans are with us. The mountain lords particularly.”

“Speaking of friends in the western clans,” I say carefully, “has Lord Oesterin accepted your recent overture?”

Vazor’s lips curl into what might be a smile, if not for the way his teeth gleam. “He’s certainly... enthusiastic about the opportunity. Perhaps too enthusiastic.”

“Enthusiasm can be dangerous.” I pour more wine, watching the way it catches the firelight. “Particularly when it’s not properly channeled.”

Vazor accepts the refilled glass and shrugs. “I suspect his fervor will burn itself out soon enough.”

The unspoken threat hangs between us like smoke. I nod slowly. “Fire that burns too hot tends to consume itself.”

“Precisely.” Vazor’s scales shimmer as he shifts in his chair. “And once it’s burned through everything useful, it should be extinguished.”

“Before it spreads where it shouldn’t.”

“My thoughts exactly.” Vazor tilts his head thoughtfully. “Though I do hope he provides adequate entertainment before then. It would be a shame to waste such potential.”

I nod, moving to stand by the window. Outside, snow falls in fat flakes, coating the grounds of Starfrost Manor in pristine white. Soon enough, that snow will turn to steam and ash if our plans succeed.

But I can’t see any other options. I never could. That’s how we ended up here to begin with.

“Bring Oesterin in,” I finally say. “I’ll send the final details the usual way.”

“I’ll watch for the message.” Vazor rises, moving to join me at the window. “Though I admit, I’m curious why you’re so eager to see your own people fall.”

“Not all of them. Only Jonyx.”

“You truly believe his death will allow you to take over the realm?”

I turn to face him, meeting those reptilian eyes. “The Caix are dying, Vazor. Our magic weakens with each generation. Jonyk’s solution is to reject progress, to cling desperately to the old ways while our power slips through our fingers like melting ice.”

“And your solution is to burn it all down?” There’s amusement in his voice. “How very...firelord of you.”

“Sometimes the only way forward is through destruction.” The words taste like ashes in my mouth, but I force them out anyway. “The old order must fall for something new to rise.”

“Certainly.” He moves back to his chair, sprawling into it with unexpected grace. “Though I wonder if you’ve truly thought through all the implications of our little coup.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning that once we succeed, there will be changes. The firelords won’t be content to remain in our mountains forever.” His eyes glitter. “We’ll want what’s ours.”

I take another sip of wine to hide my expression. “And what exactly do you consider yours?”

“Everything.” He spreads his hands wide. “The valleys, the plains, the cities. All of it.”

“That wasn’t our agreement. You agreed to half the Starcaix realm.”

“Agreements change.” His voice drops lower, smoke and shadow. “You’re not naive enough to think otherwise.”

I turn back to the window, watching the snow fall. He’s right—I’m not naive. I knew from the start that allying with the firelords was problematic. But I need them, need their strength and their technology to achieve my goals.

And if that means playing a dangerous game...well, I’ve become good at those over the cycles.

“I suppose we’ll see how things unfold,” I say carefully .

Vazor drains his wine glass, setting it aside with a decisive click. “I suppose we will.”

And that is exactly why I haven’t told him about the Starfire crown.

G etting Vazor out of Starfrost Manor unseen will be nearly impossible if Baron Svalkat is still awake. The thought of Jonyk’s spy discovering a firelord in my rooms makes my blood run even colder than usual.

I move to the window, scanning the courtyard below. Snow continues to fall, which works in our favor—the thick flakes will help obscure Vazor’s departure. But first, I need to ensure our path is clear.

“Give me a moment,” I murmur to Vazor, who sprawls in my chair like he owns it. I step into the hallway, letting my magic spread out through the manor. The cold seeps through the walls, through the floors, creating a web of awareness.

I sense the baron in his chambers, his energy signature dimmed with sleep. Good. The kitchen still pulses with life—Lara’s human warmth near the hearth, Adefina’s Starcaix energy nearby. The rest of the household has settled in for the night.

When I return my attention to my sitting room, Vazor has moved to stand by the fire, his scales reflecting the flames in ways that make him impossible to disguise. Even in his humanoid form, he’s obviously not Caix.

“We’ll need to take the servant’s stairs,” I tell him. “Follow my lead and stay in the shadows.”

His laugh is a soft hiss of steam. “Shadows aren’t exactly my natural habitat.”

“Then consider it practice for our future endeavors.” I open the door and peer out again. “Unless you’d prefer to explain to your king why you were caught conspiring with an Ice Court duke?”

That silences him. We both know his king would be even less pleased than Jonyk to discover our alliance.

The corridor is dark, lit only by the occasional Caixlight floating near the ceiling. I extinguish them as we pass, letting the darkness swallow us. Vazor’s heat signature blazes behind me like a torch, and I grit my teeth, drawing the cold around us both.

We’re halfway to the servant’s stairs when I hear footsteps approaching from the cross-corridor ahead. I grab Vazor’s arm and drag him into an alcove behind a suit of armor.

Ramira passes by, carrying a small tray loaded with small delicacies—a nighttime snack for the baron, I assume. The housemaid’s steps falter as she nears our hiding spot—she must sense the temperature fluctuation caused by Vazor’s presence. But after a moment, she continues walking, her soft footfalls fading away.

I blow out a breath. “Almost there.”

Vazor’s eyes glitter with amusement. “This is more excitement than I typically prefer with my conspiracies.”

“Shut up,” I mutter, but there’s no heat in it. We’ve known each other too long for true animosity, even if we’re supposed to be natural enemies.

The servant’s stairs are narrow and steep, designed for efficiency rather than comfort. As we descend, I’m acutely aware of every creak, every groan of the ancient wood. Vazor moves with surprising stealth for a creature of his size, but his heat makes the air shimmer around us.

We’re almost to the bottom when I hear voices from the kitchen. I freeze, holding up a hand to stop Vazor. Lara’s laugh drifts through the door, followed by Kila’s higher pitch. Of course the human would still be awake, probably huddled by the fire with that tiny Starcaix raya of hers.

We had been heading for the most private exit, a door that leads to the gardens, but we would have to cross the kitchen to reach it. Unless...

“How do you feel about snow?” I whisper to Vazor.

“You can’t be serious.”

“The window, then.” I gesture to the narrow opening halfway down the stairs. “It’s that or risk being seen.”

Vazor glances between me and the window, his expression distinctly unimpressed. “If anyone ever told me I’d be climbing out windows with the Duke of Starfrost Manor...”

“They’d never believe it,” I finish for him. “Now move.”

The window is a tight fit, even for Vazor’s humanoid form. I watch him squeeze through, his scales scraping against the frame, and wonder what the baron would make of the marks left behind. I’ll have to remember to ice over the evidence.

I follow him out into the snow, landing silently beside him. The storm has picked up, thick flakes swirling around us in a white curtain. Perfect cover for a clandestine escape.

We make our way along the manor’s wall, staying close to the shadows. When we reach the postern gate, I press my palm to the lock, ice crystals forming and reshaping until it clicks open.

“Well,” Vazor says as he steps through, “that was certainly more interesting than our usual meetings.”

I don’t reply, and he heads toward the forest. I watch until he vanishes completely, then turn back to the manor.

I have some evidence of his passage to hide.

And a throne to usurp.