The Alien’s Vicious Starflash Manor (Empire of Frost and Flame #2)

Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

IVRAEL

H alfway through the faster-than-light trip back home to Trasq, I exit my cryocasket, as usual.

I could remain in stasis through the entire flight—as most Caix pilots, the few who exist, often do—relying on Cyan to wake me if anything goes wrong.

Not me. I like the quiet of space. And I love the freedom to turn up the heat, to revel in the warmth—something I can’t do when the rest of the crew’s awake.

No. Bad enough my servants already whisper about my preference for fires in my chambers, my desire for cooked food.

Better if they learn nothing more.

This time, though, my time for quiet reflection is interrupted.

“Captain Ivrael,” Cyan’s voice breaks through the comfortable silence, “Lady Uanna is attempting to establish communication.”

I freeze in the act of adjusting the environmental controls. “What?”

“Lady Uanna. You know, your former lover? The one who?—”

“I know who she is.” My fingers tighten on the control panel. “How is she even managing to contact us?”

“Through one of the regulated comm channels. Very clever of her, actually. She’s routing it through official Ice Court channels, making it look like a priority missive from Prince Jonyk himself.”

Of course she is. Uanna always did know how to work the system to her advantage. “Put her through.”

The holographic display flickers to life, static crackling across the image before resolving into Uanna’s form.

Even through the unstable connection, her beauty is striking—all ice-pale skin and white-blonde hair, with those crystalline blue eyes that once captivated me. She embodies everything an Icecaix noble should be.

Everything I’m not.

“Ivrael.” Her smile curves like a crescent moon, sharp enough to draw blood.

“Lady Uanna,” I reply, keeping my tone cool but polite.

“How fortunate I caught you awake.” She’s wearing court clothing—layers of white and silver silk that make her look as if she’s been carved from fresh snow. Even if Cyan hadn’t told me, I would have known she was back in Jonyk’s castle.

I lean back in my captain’s chair, grateful for the years of practice at maintaining a neutral expression. The familiar scent of ice roses seems to drift through the recycled ship’s air—impossible, of course, but memory is a powerful thing. “To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?”

She tilts her head, and the gesture is so familiar it makes my stomach clench. “Can’t I simply wish to speak with an old friend?”

“You’re using restricted channels.” I gesture at the console’s readouts. “Channels that could get us both executed if we’re caught. This isn’t a social call.”

Her smile falters slightly, the mask of court perfection cracking just enough to show something darker beneath. “No, it isn’t.”

“Then what is it?”

She glances over her shoulder, the movement so deliberately casual it can only be calculated. After all our cycles together, I recognize her theatrics. She’s setting the stage, building tension before delivering her blow. “Prince Jonyk is planning a reception. Five days of celebration for the renewal of the peace treaty with the firelords.”

The words slam into me with the force of an out-of-control meteor, but I force myself to remain still, to keep my fingers relaxed on the armrests instead of digging into them. “How very diplomatic of him.”

“He expects you to attend.” Uanna’s eyes narrow, and I see a flash of the ruthless courtier beneath her pristine exterior. “All the noble houses must be represented, after all.”

Plus, I arranged to have some of his favorite nobles slaughtered. He has to suspect as much, even if he can’t yet prove it. I’m sure he wants the chance to interrogate me himself.

“When?” The word comes out rougher than intended, and I clear my throat, buying time to steady my voice. “When is this reception to be held?”

“At the end of this moon-cycle.” Her gaze fixes on my face with an intensity that makes my skin prickle. She’s searching for any reaction, any tell that might betray my thoughts. “During the next double full moon.”

I do some quick date-checking.

That’s a single ten-day from now.

The timing couldn’t be worse if Jonyk had planned it specifically to expose me—which, I realize with a chill that has nothing to do with my powers, he may well have done.

Ice crawls through my veins, colder than anything I would consciously conjure.

The timing couldn’t be worse.

“Your lordship,” Cyan cuts in, her tone oddly gentle, “your core temperature is dropping rapidly.”

I realize I’ve lost control of the environmental systems, frost spreading across the command console beneath my hands. With effort, I pull the cold back inside myself.

“Problems with your ship?” Uanna asks, too innocently.

“Nothing Cyan can’t handle.” I wave a hand dismissively—I can be dramatic too, after all. “She’s far more advanced than the primitive systems at court.”

“Aww, you say the sweetest things,” Cyan coos, though there’s an undertone of concern in her voice that only I would recognize.

Uanna’s lips thin at the AI’s interruption. “The prince was quite insistent on your attendance. He mentioned something about questioning your loyalty to the court.”

And there it is. The threat beneath the invitation. Miss this reception, and Jonyk will have all the excuse he needs to move against me.

Unsurprising, of course, given how many Ice Court nobles died in my ballroom just a few days ago.

“How thoughtful of His Highness to include me in the celebrations.” I keep my voice level through sheer force of will. “Please convey my gratitude for the invitation.”

“Since you’re heading home, I presume you’ve acquired the sister. Is that true?”

I consider lying, but Uanna would see right through it. She’ll learn the truth soon enough, anyway. “Yes.”

She taps one finger against her lower lip. “And you plan to present them both at court?”

“Perhaps.” The word comes out clipped, wary.

“Well then.” Her smile widens fractionally. “They’ll need proper attire, of course. Court fashion is so... particular. I could send my lady’s maid. And my seamstress. They’re quite skilled at preparing newcomers for their debut.”

The offer catches me off guard. Uanna never does anything without ulterior motives, but I can’t afford to refuse help I desperately need. “That would be appreciated.”

She inclines her head, and I resist the urge to demand she tell me what game she’s playing. Better to wait and watch. Learn her intentions before revealing my own hand.

“Before I go...” Uanna’s voice turns hesitant in a way that immediately puts me on guard. She’s never hesitant unless she’s playing at something. “There’s more you should know about Jonyk’s so-called peace summit .”

I keep my expression neutral even as frost begins creeping across the console beneath my fingers. “Oh?”

“Jonyk has commissioned a special entertainment. An ice maze outside the palace.” Her pale eyes fix on me through the holographic display. “I’ve managed to acquire the blueprints.”

A maze. Of course Jonyk would choose something so perfectly designed to isolate and trap his guests.

“How thoughtful of you to share this information.” The temperature in the cockpit drops several more degrees.

“I’m transferring the files now,” she says as data begins streaming across my secondary display. “You’ll want to study them carefully. The design includes several features that could prove deadly if one doesn’t know to avoid them.”

“Deadly accidents that could never be traced back to our gracious host, I assume?” Acid burns in my throat. This is exactly Jonyk’s style—creating situations where his enemies eliminate themselves while his hands remain technically clean.

“Precisely.” Uanna’s lips curve in a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “Which is why I thought you might appreciate the opportunity to practice. Perhaps with your new acquisitions?”

My jaw tightens at her choice of words, but I force myself to consider the suggestion logically. Having Lara and Izzy learn the maze’s secrets beforehand could save their lives.

And yet...

“Why are you really telling me this?”

She gives an elegant shrug. “Perhaps I simply don’t want to see any unfortunate accidents during the summit. It would be so very disruptive to the peace process.”

I don’t believe for a moment that’s her only motivation. Is she trying to curry favor? Setting a trap of her own? Or is she herself being used as an unwitting pawn in some larger game of Jonyk’s?

“The files are uploaded,” she announces. “Use them wisely. Safe travels.” The hologram flickers out before I can respond.

“Well,” Cyan says into the silence. “That was interesting. Should I analyze those blueprints for hidden data or embedded traps?”

“Yes.” My mind races. “Check everything. I need to know if they’re genuine, and if they’ve been modified in any way.”

“Already on it.” She pauses. “You know this could be exactly what it appears—Uanna hedging her bets by helping both sides.”

“Nothing is ever that simple with Uanna.” Or with court politics in general. “How long until you can verify the files?”

“A few hours for a thorough analysis. In the meantime, want me to start rendering a 3D model? If you’re planning to recreate this maze, you’ll need to know exactly what you’re building.”

I nod, watching as preliminary wireframes begin taking shape on the display. One more complexity added to an already precarious plan.

But if it keeps Lara alive long enough for?—

I cut that thought off before it can fully form. “Begin the analysis. I need to know what we’re dealing with.”

Cyan goes quiet for a brief moment, and then is back. “Working on it now. I’ll have a full report on the maze files as soon as possible.”

Goddess help me.

But really, the maze is just one more obstacle to navigate. One more way everything could go wrong.

One more reason to doubt my choices.

Ice spreads further across the console. I close my eyes, focusing on my breathing, on containing the ice that wants to explode outward. “Any further analysis?”

“Of Lady Uanna’s call or your deteriorating physical state?”

“Cyan.”

“Fine, fine. The timing is suspicious. The prince hasn’t hosted the firelords at court in over ten star-cycles. To suddenly arrange this now, when you’ve just acquired the second sister, and so soon after the ballroom fire...”

“He suspects something.”

“It seems likely. Though whether he knows what you’re planning or simply believes you’re plotting against him in general?—”

“It doesn’t matter.” I rake a hand through my hair. “Either way, I can’t refuse to attend without confirming his suspicions.”

“And you can’t attend during a double moon without risking exposure.” Cyan’s tone turns thoughtful. “You know, we could always stage a convenient mechanical failure. Something just catastrophic enough to delay your arrival until after the worst of the celestial effects have passed.”

For a moment, I’m tempted. But...

“No. Jonyk would see through it immediately. He knows I never travel without you, and your capabilities are...” I trail off as something occurs to me. “Cyan, how did Uanna know I would be awake to take her call?”

A long pause follows. “Ah. I was hoping you wouldn’t catch that.”

“Cyan.”

“There may have been some... monitoring of your travel patterns. Very subtle. Almost undetectable, really. I only noticed because?—”

“Because you’re the one who taught her how to do it.” The realization hits like a blow. “When you were helping me maintain my cover at court.”

“To be fair, I had to make their systems look at least somewhat competent. Otherwise, they might have started asking questions about where their upgrades were really coming from.”

I press my fingers to my temples, where a headache is building. “And now they’re using those same systems to spy on me.”

“If it helps, I’m still better at it than they are?”

A laugh escapes me despite everything. “What would I do without you?”

“Crash and burn. Literally, probably.” Her tone softens. “We’ll figure this out, Ivrael. We always do.”

I stare out the viewscreen at the star-streaked void of faster-than-light travel. Somewhere ahead lies Trasq, and with it all the complications I’ve spent cycles trying to unravel. The Evans sisters. The failing magic. The Starfire Crown I couldn’t bring myself to leave behind, as if King Caix, the King of the Undead himself, might somehow leave his iron-bound cemetery to raid Starfrost Manor and retrieve it.

And now this—a reception that could destroy everything I’ve worked for.

“We should discuss the Lara situation,” Cyan says quietly.

“Don’t.” The word comes out harsher than intended. “I can’t think about that right now.”

“Your core temperature just spiked. Thinking about it is apparently all you’re doing.”

I slam my hand against the console, ice crackling outward. “Enough.”

“As you wish.” A pause, then, “Though I feel compelled to point out that freezing my circuits won’t actually solve any of your problems.”

I pull the ice back. “Sorry.”

“Accepted. Now, shall we discuss how we’re going to handle having you attend this five-day reception during a double full moon? Or would you prefer to continue pretending this isn’t a potential disaster in the making?”

I lean back in my chair, closing my eyes. “Maintain course for the pole. We’ll need to dock there anyway.”

“Already done.” Another pause. “Whatever you decide, I’ve got your back. Even if I think you’re being an idiot about certain things. And certain people.”

A smile tugs at my lips despite everything. “I know.”

Despite myself, my mind races through everything that needs to be accomplished before the reception.

One ten-day.

Not even a full moon cycle to transform two modern Earth women into convincing Caix nobility. And that doesn’t count the time it’ll take to get back to Trasq.

“They’ll be eaten alive,” I murmur.

“Possibly literally,” Cyan agrees cheerfully. “Though I suppose that depends on whether any of the firelords get peckish.”

I shoot a glare at the nearest sensor. “Not helping.”

“Sorry. Would you prefer I lie and say it will all be fine?”

No. Because it won’t be.

The Ice Court makes the firelords look positively welcoming in comparison.

At least dragons are honest about their desire to destroy you.

I begin ticking off items on my fingers. “They’ll need to learn proper court etiquette. How to dress, how to speak, how to move. Every gesture must be perfect.”

“The basics of politics wouldn’t hurt either,” Cyan adds. “Unless you want them accidentally starting a blood feud over the wrong fork.”

She’s right. Court politics are a dance of daggers, each step potentially fatal. One wrong word, one misplaced courtesy, and everything could unravel.

And Lara... Goddess help me, but Lara can barely keep herself from telling me exactly what she thinks of me in the relative safety of my own manor.

What will she do when faced with Prince Jonyk’s casual cruelty? When she witnesses up close the games nobles play with their servants’ lives?

She was horrified by what she saw at Starfrost Manor, at what was merely a small entertainment.

My hands clench on the armrests. “They’ll need combat training too. Nothing obvious, but enough to defend themselves if necessary.”

“Against what? The other nobles or their own court shoes? Because I’ve seen what passes for formal footwear in your world, and I’m pretty sure those count as deadly weapons.”

I ignore her attempt at humor. “Everything. Everyone. The court is a nest of vipers, and they’ll smell fresh blood the moment the Evans sisters walk in.”

The image of Lara facing down Lady Qarine’s infamous ice-poison rings or the Countess Naeryn’s collection of ensorcelled daggers makes my chest tight. And Izzy is even more unprepared, having never even seen our world.

“You could always leave them at the manor,” Cyan suggests carefully. “Find some excuse...”

“No.” I chew at my bottom lip. “Uanna specifically mentioned Jonyk questioning my loyalty. If I don’t present them at court now, it will only confirm his suspicions.”

“And of course, this has nothing to do with wanting to keep them close where you can protect them.”

I bare my teeth at her sensor. “I need them alive until the ritual. That’s all.”

“Mm-hmm. That’s why your core temperature just spiked again. Pure ritual-related concern.”

“Cyan.”

“Fine, fine. Returning to practical matters—what about their magic? You can’t exactly have them manifesting new powers in the middle of a court dance.”

The thought sends a wave of nausea through me. “They’ll need to learn control first. If either of them shows even a hint of power in front of Jonyk...”

I don’t finish the sentence. I don’t need to. We both know what the prince does to those he views as threats.

“So, to summarize,” Cyan says brightly, “in ten days, you need to teach two Earth women several centuries worth of court etiquette, political maneuvering, self-defense, and magical control. After, of course, ensuring they manifest that magic in the first place.”

I drop my head into my hands with a groan.

“While also maintaining your own cover,” Cyan continues, “managing your weakening powers, surviving any killer ice-maze traps, and somehow preventing Prince Jonyk from discovering that you’re planning to replace him with those women and then sacrifice said women to save your world. Did I miss anything?”

“You forgot about keeping the firelords from recognizing their bloodline.”

“Ah yes, how silly of me to overlook the dragon-shifters who might literally smell their heritage. Well, I’m sure it will all work out just fine.”

I press my fingers to my temples. “Your sarcasm isn’t helping.”

“No, but it is keeping you from freezing my circuits in frustration. You’re welcome.” Her tone softens. “We’ll figure it out, Ivrael. We always do.”

But we’ve never had stakes quite this high before. Never had quite so many ways everything could go catastrophically wrong.

Never had quite so much to lose.

I close my eyes, and unbidden, Lara’s face appears in my mind. The way she looked in the gallery that night, moonlight silvering her golden-red hair, her eyes full of heat.

The way she moaned my name and shattered against my mouth.

The way she defies me at every turn, her spirit unbroken despite everything.

How quickly could the court crush that spirit? How long before they strip away everything that makes her uniquely, beautifully herself?

You’re going to kill her anyway , a voice in my head reminds me. What does it matter if the court breaks her first?

But it does matter. It matters more than I can afford to admit.

I stare at the viewscreen, my earlier peace completely disrupted.

The stars streak past outside, carrying us inexorably toward Trasq. Toward the reception that could expose all my careful plans.

Toward whatever fate awaits me—and Lara, too.