Chapter 19
CHAPTER 19
LARA
I stalk away from the gallery, still trying to catch my breath and slow my racing heart.
I have to get somewhere safe.
Clutching my ruined dress to my chest, I make my way toward the suite I share with Izzy, ducking out of the way every time I hear the slightest noise as I do my best to avoid running into anyone.
I can still smell Ivrael on my skin, still feel those ridges— god, so alien, so fucking amazing —pushing into my mouth. Hear the way he talked to me. Feel the burning cold of his touch, the heat as he came…
Fuck. I can still taste him.
I shove those sensations down deep inside me, locking them away with all the other forbidden feelings he stirs in me. I can’t think about that now.
What have I become?
I clench my jaw and force that thought away, too. I need to focus on getting back to my suite without being seen, not on remembering what just happened. What I let him do to me.
What I begged him to do.
I pause, pressing my forehead against a window. My knees ache where they pressed against the hard floor of the gallery, and fury burns in my chest, hot enough to melt the ice covering every surface of this frozen hellscape.
I put myself there. On my knees. Like a servant, like property, like nothing.
Like everything I’ve been trying not to become since the moment he bought me.
I wanted it.
And the way he said what happened between us was a mistake.
As if I was a mistake.
That’s the worst part. I let myself forget, for a few heated moments, exactly what I am to him. What he is to me.
The ribbons at my wrists pulse with that eerie blue light, and I want to scream. Want to tear them off, even though I know it’s impossible. Want to storm back into the gallery and... What? Demand he acknowledge what just happened? Beg him to do it again?
God. What’s wrong with me?
I slam my palm against the windowsill, welcoming the sharp sting of pain. Better that than remembering how his hands felt on my skin, how his lips...
No .
My legs are still shaking, and I tell myself it’s from kneeling on the marble for so long. Not from the memory of his touch. Not from the way he made me feel, the sounds he drew from my throat, the way I arched into his hands like I was made for him.
Never again.
The words taste like lies even as I think them, but I force myself to straighten, to lift my chin.
I am not his toy, his possession, his... anything.
No matter what my treacherous body wants.
The ribbons pulse again, as if laughing at my thoughts, and I clench my fists until my nails bite into my palms. This time, the pain helps me remember who—what—he really is.
My captor. My enemy. The man who holds my life, my sister’s life, in his hands.
Not my lover. Never that.
Even if part of me wishes...
I shake my head sharply, banishing that thought before it can fully form. I won’t give him the satisfaction of breaking me like this. Won’t let him see how much it hurt when he sent me away.
Won’t let myself want him to call me back.
But as I push away from the window on unsteady legs, I know I’m lying to myself. Because the worst part isn’t that I… served …him on my knees.
The worst part is that I want to do it again.
As I near the end of one corridor, I peek around the corner. The hallway appears empty, but sometimes sound carries strangely through Starfrost Manor’s corridors. I’ve learned that the hard way over the past year.
I gather the silk of my ruined dress closer, painfully aware of how obvious it will be to anyone who sees me exactly what I’ve been doing.
It’s not just the ripped dress. My hair has completely escaped its careful styling, falling in wild tangles around my face. Fuck. I need to get back to our rooms and change without Izzy realizing it.
Izzy, who’s in the suite recovering from a headache, dammit.
The sound of footsteps sends me ducking into an alcove, pressing myself into the shadows as a servant passes. My heart pounds so loudly I’m certain they must hear it, but they continue on without pausing.
Once their steps fade, I ease back into the hallway. I hurry toward my suite, pausing at each intersection to check for witnesses.
I’m almost there when I hear voices approaching and my stomach drops. But then I recognize Lucilline’s lilting tone and nearly sag with relief. She’s walking down the hallway with one of Madame Evangeny’s minions.
Just past the alcove where I’m hiding, they split up, and I send up a silent, grateful prayer of thanks to any gods that might be listening. Then I wait until the assistant she’s chatting with turns the corner.
“Lucilline!” I hiss, waving to catch her attention.
She turns, eyes widening as she takes in my disheveled state. Her gaze sweeps over me from head to toe, and I feel my cheeks flame. But there’s no judgment in her expression, only understanding and perhaps a hint of sympathy.
“Oh miss,” she says softly. “Let me help you.”
I nod gratefully. “I need... I can’t let Izzy see me like this.”
“Of course not.” She glances around. “Come with me.”
She leads me to an empty guest room and slips inside to check that it’s truly vacant before ushering me in. “Wait here. I’ll fetch your things from your suite.”
While she’s gone, I pace the room, trying not to look at my reflection in the ornate mirror on the wall. The ribbons at my wrists remind me of how Ivrael used them to control me. How I let him.
How I wanted him to.
Never again . Perhaps if I say it often enough, it will become true.
I won’t give in to him again, won’t let myself forget what he truly is. A monster wearing a prince’s face. My captor, my tormentor.
The one who makes my blood sing in my veins with a single touch.
Lucilline returns with my clothes and a hairbrush, closing the door quietly behind her. She sets my sweater and jeans on the chair in front of the vanity and gestures at them. “I thought these would be easier to get into quickly. We can choose another dress for you.”
She helps me out of the crumpled court dress and into my familiar jeans and sweater. The fabric feels strange against my skin after the silk, but comforting too. A reminder of who I really am.
“What should we do with that?” I nod toward the dress.
She looks thoughtful. “I’ll take it to Madame Evangeny’s assistant Olgaena. She can mend it.”
“She won’t tell Izzy?”
“Oh, no. Olgaena can keep a confidence, I know. She’s a friend.”
My shoulders slump in sudden relief.
“We’ll keep your secrets safe, miss.” Lucilline’s voice is kind. “Now, take a seat and let’s see what can be done with your hair.”
As she works the tangles from my hair with gentle fingers, I stare at my hands gripping the edge of the vanity. The ribbons are a perfect match to the dress I just removed. Like everything else in this frozen hell—needle-sharp trees, glittering swords, the fragile patterns of frost on windowpanes—they’re beautiful and deadly.
Just like him.
“There,” Lucilline says finally, stepping back. “That should do it.”
I examine my reflection. I look normal again. Like myself. Except for my eyes—they’re too bright, my cheeks still flushed. My lips too swollen. And the ribbons...
“Thank you,” I tell her. She curtsies and slips away, taking the ruined dress with her.
I press my palms against my cheeks, willing the color to fade.
I can do this. I can walk into that suite and face my sister and pretend nothing happened. That I haven’t just given in to the man who bought me like cattle.
The man whose touch makes me forget why I should hate him.
I straighten my spine and lift my chin. I am stronger than this attraction. Stronger than whatever magic he’s woven around me.
I have to be.
Never again.
But as I step into the hallway, the memories of his lips on me, my mouth wrapped around him, send electricity dancing across my skin. The ribbons pulse yet again, and I know with sickening certainty that this is a vow I’ll continue to struggle to keep.
Because despite everything he’s done, despite knowing exactly what he is, my body craves his touch like a drug. I would fall to my knees for him over and over again, just to have him cry out my name like that. To have him need me the way I’m beginning to fear I could come to need him.
And that terrifies me more than any of his threats or manipulations ever have.
I pause outside my suite, gathering my composure.
I can hear Izzy moving around inside, humming tunelessly to herself. My sister, who I’m supposed to be protecting. Who I’ve failed by giving in to the very man who threatens her freedom.
Taking a deep breath, I open the door to face my sister, praying she won’t see the truth written in my eyes. Praying she won’t realize how close I came to forgetting everything that matters.
Praying I’ll be strong enough to resist the next time he looks at me with golden fire burning in those ice-blue eyes.
Because there will be a next time. In this frozen palace of lies and manipulation, that’s the one truth I can’t escape.
The door closes behind me with a quiet click that sounds like doom.
“Look,” Izzy says. “Madame Evangeny has just delivered our temporary wardrobes. She says the rest will be delivered to the Ice Palace once we’re there.”
Lucilline is already back, carefully unpacking our new dresses and hanging them up in the armoire, exclaiming over each of them.
She takes out a pale pink dress meant for Izzy, who wrinkles her nose at the delicate color. “I hate pink.”
“But you look beautiful in it,” I say, which earns me a snarl. She finally gives me more than a passing glance. “Why are you wearing your old clothes?”
I glance down at myself as if the change of clothes doesn’t matter. “Ivrael stepped on my dress during our dance lesson. It ripped. Lucilline sent it to be repaired.”
“Really?” Izzy’s gaze turns considering as she examines the excuse with that analytical gaze that sees far too much, and I silently pray she won’t pierce through this lie.
“Yep. Ripped easier than I expected, so be careful. That shit’s fragile.” I turn my back on my sister under the cover of examining the dresses. I don’t want her to see the way my cheeks flush.
A knock at our door surprises us all, and Lucilline rushes over to answer. I’m grateful for the distraction. Ivrael never bothers to knock, so I follow her into our small receiving room to see who has come to visit.
“Ooh. This is lovely.” Adefina strides into our sitting room carrying a tray laden with an evening snack and gazes about with interest. “I do believe you’ve moved up in His Lordship’s estimation.”
“I think you’re right,” Kila trills out as she flits in behind the cook.
I snort, wanting to tell them all the ways I know they’re wrong. Ivrael wants me and Izzy because we could help with his plot. My willingness to allow him to do terrible things to me is just a bonus.
“I’ve brought you tea,” Adefina announces unnecessarily, plonking the tray down on a small table and setting out cups, saucers, and plates of bread and cookies. “Best cure for a headache.”
“Thank you,” Izzy says. “I’m feeling better already. I’m sure the tea will help, too.”
Kila’s wings catch the light as she flutters near my ribbons, and I wonder if she sees what I’m desperately trying to hide—the way they pulse in time with my racing heart. She lands on my shoulder, her tiny hand patting my neck.
Adefina pours the tea with practiced ease, but the look she gives me as she hands me my cup makes me wonder if anyone besides Lucilline saw me in the ruined dress, if the kitchen gossip has already started—and more than that, just how many of Starfrost Manor’s secrets Adefina holds.
I reach out and take one of the still-warm cookies, its scent a reminder of the kitchen’s safety that I’ve traded for silk gowns and dangerous games. Just a week ago, I never would have thought I could miss the kitchen.
But the warmth of the kitchen feels like a distant dream now, replaced by the dangerous heat of golden sparks in ice-blue eyes. None of the comfort my friends bring can reach the cold place inside where I've buried all my new truths, all my dangerous wants.
As she hands me my tea, Adefina glances at me again, and I wonder if she sees the marks Ivrael’s ice left beneath my skin, sees my destruction being written in frost across the walls of this silken prison.
Heat from the teacup seeps into my bones, but it can't thaw the memories of his touch or the frost patterns he left on my soul.
I’m beginning to fear his mark on me is indelible, seared into me with his burning cold.
And even if Izzy and I manage to make it back home, I will never truly escape him.