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

Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7

LARA

T he first thing I register is cold—not the gentle chill of the cryochamber, but a bone-deep, burning freeze that makes my teeth ache.

My muscles feel like they’re made of ice as the crystal coffin slides open with a soft hiss. I blink against the harsh light, trying to orient myself. The last clear memory I have is Ivrael forcing that apple on me, his body pressed against mine, his voice in my ear...

No. Wait. That was last time. This time Izzy is with us.

“We’re here,” Ivrael announces.

Fuck. I hate how my body still responds to that voice, even now.

I struggle to sit up, my limbs heavy and clumsy. Two days. It must have been two days since he drugged us, but my mind feels stretched and foggy, like time has become elastic. Through the disorientation, I see Ivrael watching me with those impossible ice-blue eyes.

Our gazes meet, and I quickly glance away.

This time, the spaceport spreads out before us as we descend the exit ramp—a sprawling complex of crystal and metal. The whole facility gleams under the strange light of Trasq’s twin moons, their pale glow reflecting off every surface until it feels like we’re walking through starlight.

Izzy stumbles slightly beside me, and I reach out to steady her. She’s trembling, though whether from the cold or fear, I can’t tell. Probably both.

I remember my own first glimpse of this frozen world, how overwhelming it all was. But I was alone then. At least Izzy has me—for whatever that’s worth against Ivrael’s plans.

“Fuck, it’s cold,” Izzy says, wrapping her arms tightly around herself. Her breath clouds in the air like smoke. “It’s like... negative a million.”

I want to laugh at her familiar way of exaggerating everything, but the sound catches in my throat.

Because she’s not wrong—the cold here is different from anything I’ve ever felt on Earth. It’s like it’s alive somehow, sentient, like it’s actively trying to freeze the blood in your veins.

I catch Ivrael watching Izzy’s reaction to the cold with that calculating look I’ve grown to hate. Is he gauging her resistance to the temperature? Testing her blood’s response to this world’s magic? I step closer to my sister, as if I could somehow shield her from his scrutiny.

“The temperature at the poles is considerably lower than what you’ll experience at Starfrost Manor,” Ivrael says, as if he’s giving a tour rather than leading us to our enslavement.

“Why are we at the pole?” Izzy asks through chattering teeth.

He gestures at his ship. “Technology and magic don’t mix well on Trasq. The poles are the only safe places to dock.”

There’s something in his tone—a bitterness, maybe, or frustration—that makes me look at him more closely. His jaw is tight, and those golden sparks are dancing through his eyes again.

I think about Cyan, his AI, safely hidden away in the ship. About all the other secrets he keeps. About how much of what he’s told us might be lies.

A gust of wind whips across the landing pad, carrying ice crystals that sting like tiny needles against my skin. Izzy presses against my side, seeking warmth, and I wrap an arm around her shoulders. She feels so small, so fragile. How am I supposed to protect her when I couldn’t even protect myself?

“Come,” Ivrael says, and there’s that tone again, the one that makes my body want to obey even as my mind rebels. “The sooner we reach the manor, the sooner you can warm up.”

He starts walking toward the gate that shimmers like a mirage in the distance. The two footmen fall into step behind us, their boots crunching on the ice. I note their positions, calculating possible escape routes out of habit, even though I know it’s useless. There’s nowhere to run on this frozen world.

“I don’t understand any of this,” Izzy whispers against my shoulder as we follow Ivrael across the landing pad. “Why us? Why here?”

I squeeze her shoulders, wishing I could tell her everything. About Ivrael’s plans, about the royal blood that apparently runs in our veins, about all the ways this beautiful, terrible world will try to destroy us.

But I can’t. Not yet. Not until I figure out how to save us both.

“Like I told you, he’s an ice lord,” I say instead, watching Ivrael’s back as he walks ahead of us, his golden hair catching the moonlight.

“Like I know what that means.”

“Yeah,” I mutter.

Things are only going to get worse from here.

I don’t say that out loud, either. I’m too busy thinking that Ivrael might not realize it, but him bringing my sister with us made me less willing to follow his orders, not more.

He’s made me twice as determined to escape the Icecaix lands.

As soon as we’re all on the ground, Ivrael flicks a gesture back at the spaceship, and it disappears. Izzy gapes back at where it presumably still sits—or hell, maybe it’s really gone, for all I know.

A year in, and I still don’t know all of what these aliens can do.

“What now?” my sister asks.

“We go through that.” I point at the giant white wrought-iron gate—the one that can’t possibly be iron. “And then we get on magic flying ice horses.”

“Not really.”

I heave a heavy sigh. “Oh, yes. Really.”

I can’t take my eyes off Izzy as Ivrael leads us toward the massive gate. My sister looks so small between Khrint and Tenyt, the two Icecaix footmen flanking her like sentinels.

The bitter wind whips her hair around her face, and she keeps reaching up to tuck the wayward strands behind her ears with trembling fingers.

I want to go to her, to wrap her in my arms and protect her from everything that’s about to happen. But I know better now. There’s no protection from Ivrael’s plans—only survival.

“What’s his name?” Izzy asks, nodding toward the duke.

“Ivrael,” I say, just as Khrint says, “You may call him ‘Your Lordship’.”

I snort. “Yeah. He prefers that.”

In the end, she doesn’t call him anything, simply calling out, “Where are we going?”

Ivrael’s jaw tightens almost imperceptibly.

Should’ve used his title, I think.

Not that my sister is any more likely to be deferential than I am—not by nature, anyway.

“My estate.” His clipped tone carries that familiar edge that makes my skin prickle with remembered heat and fury. “Starfrost Manor.”

I fight back a bitter laugh. Of course he doesn’t warn her about what’s coming. He didn’t warn me either—about the gate, about the manor, about any of it. Some twisted part of me wonders if he enjoys watching us discover each new horror unprepared.

We’re nearly at the gate when Izzy suddenly stops walking, her eyes going wide as her gaze traces the intricate patterns in the metalwork.

I’m not surprised. The whorls and spirals seem to move, to breathe, drawing you in until you could swear they’re dancing just for you.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” I say, trying to keep the bitterness from my voice. Because it is beautiful, in the same way everything in Ivrael’s world is beautiful—like frost on a window, like the glitter of stars on snow.

Like Ivrael himself.

He watches Izzy’s fascination with an expression I’ve grown to hate—that satisfied little smile that says everything is going according to his plans.

Golden sparks flash through his ice-blue eyes. I’ve seen those sparks too many times not to know what they mean: power, satisfaction, desire.

Whatever reaction he wanted from Izzy, he’s getting it. And even not knowing exactly what reaction that is, his satisfaction pisses me off. My one goal for the entire last year was to save Izzy. Having failed that, all I can do now is keep trying to interfere with his plans for her…just as soon as I figure out how.

“Izzy Evans.” His voice cuts through Izzy’s daze. She blinks rapidly, coming back to herself with a start. “We need to continue.”

I step closer to my sister as we approach the gate.

“Hold on to something,” I murmur, but there’s nothing to grab except empty air.

The magic hits like a wave of arctic wind, stealing the breath from my lungs. It’s different this time—not quite the bone-deep agony I felt on the return trip to Earth, but nowhere near as smooth as my first crossing.

My vision blurs and fragments, the world splitting into crystalline shards around us.

Through the kaleidoscope of magic, I catch glimpses of Ivrael’s face. His eyes are closed, lips moving in what might be an incantation. A few golden strands of hair have escaped his usual perfect control, whipping around his face in the magical wind.

Even now, even knowing what he is, what he plans, my traitorous heart skips at the sight of him.

The crossing feels endless, though it probably only lasts seconds. When reality snaps back into place, we’re standing in the clearing on the other side.

It’s still daylight here, though the sun is setting.

“Different time zones, apparently,” I mutter to Izzy.

My sister sways on her feet, and I reach for her, but Khrint steadies her before I can move. The look she gives the footman is equal parts grateful and terrified, and it makes me want to scream. I remember that feeling—the awful uncertainty of not knowing which of these beautiful, terrible creatures might help you and which might destroy you.

Ivrael steps forward, spreading his arms wide. The temperature drops further, and my breath clouds in the air as his power builds. Frost spirals out from his feet, creating elaborate patterns in the snow.

The first time I saw him do this, it took my breath away. Now I just watch through narrowed eyes, wondering what other powers he’s hiding.

Four shapes begin to form in the swirling ribbons of ice and snow—heads, necks, powerful shoulders materializing as if shaped by invisible hands. The ice horses stamp translucent hooves against the ground, tossing their manes.

“Oh my God,” Izzy whispers beside me. I glance at her and see tears freezing on her cheeks.

I understand her reaction. These horses are especially stunning, their bodies rippling with internal light like aurora borealis caught in glass.

“Show-off,” I mutter, loud enough for Ivrael to hear. His lips curve slightly, and for a moment I glimpse the man who sometimes looks at me like I’m more than just a means to an end.

The one who touches me like he can’t help himself.

But then his expression smooths back into that aristocratic mask, and I remember that’s all I’m certain I’ve ever seen—a mask, a lie, a way to keep me compliant until he can use me and my sister to take his prince’s throne and save his dying world.

If only I could tell if there’s truly a man under the mask at all—or if it’s nothing but mask, all the way down.

Suddenly I realize he’s called up the same number of ice horses he used to bring us here.

“Who’s not coming back with us?” I ask suspiciously.

“You and your sister will share.”

“Great. Very thoughtful.” Despite my sarcastic tone, it’s not as if I care, I tell myself—not really.

But part of me was hoping he planned to leave one of the footmen behind, because that would mean one less guard to worry about.

Then maybe I could take my sister and escape.

As Khrint and Tenyt equip the horses with saddles and reins, Ivrael moves over to us and boosts me onto the horse’s back, and then turns to Izzy, who’s frowning at the ice creature.

“That’s not real,” she says.

“Real enough,” the duke responds.

“It won’t hurt you,” I say, accepting that we’ll never get away while Ivrael is watching. “And there’s no way back to the market. Not now.” I stare into her eyes, hoping she’ll realize compliance is the only way to get through this, and that not now actually means not yet.

Ivrael puts his hands on her waist, and Izzy shrugs him off. “Yuck. Don’t touch me.” Placing both palms flat on the horse’s back, she lifts herself up, gymnast-style, and swings one leg over until she’s sitting behind me. She’s always been a lot more athletic than I am.

Then she wraps her arms around my waist and snuggles close to my back, her chin on my shoulder. “Don’t worry, Sissy,” she whispers into my ear. “Whatever is going on here, I promise I’ll get you out of here. I’ll save you.”

Tears spring to my eyes.

I’m supposed to be saving her.

We ride through what remains of the day—at least, that’s what I think we’re doing. My sense of time is completely thrown off.

Eventually, though, night falls and the two moons rise above us, hanging in the sky, frozen crescents smiling down on us. I fall into a stupor, slumped down into my saddle of ice. By all rights, my legs and butt should be completely numb, but they’re not. I assume it’s another form of Caix magic.

Izzy falls completely asleep, leaning into me with her face mashed against my back.

Hours ago, I pressed her arms to my midsection where she held onto me, just to be sure she didn’t lose her grip and slide off the horse. I was grateful for her body heat, too, especially after I insisted she wrap my cloak around her and then pulled it as far around both of us as I could, tying the ends together to hold it on. It’s an inadequate blanket, but better than nothing.

The trip goes smoothly enough, and except for the occasional glimpses of the ground beneath us, I would think we were simply riding our horses through the forest.

But the closer we get to Starfrost Manor, the more I find myself obsessing over the fact that I’m delivering my sister into the same beautiful hell I’ve been trying to escape.

And now that there are two of us, getting away is likely to be twice as difficult.