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

Chapter 20

CHAPTER 20

IVRAEL

I cannot bring myself to see Lara again.

Not yet. I can’t trust myself around her, and I can’t risk the magical consequences.

Even if my own desire for her didn’t undermine my control, the approach of the double full moon would.

The magical shifts they bring with them pulse beneath my skin like an unwelcome tide, each wave of celestial power drawing closer, tightening around my chest until breathing feels like drowning.

I can track the double full moon’s inexorable advance in the way my own magic waxes and wanes, how frost forms unbidden beneath my feet with each surge of anxiety. The moons’ combined gravity pulls at something deep within me, threatening to expose everything I’ve fought to keep hidden.

The morning after the latest debacle in the gallery, I wake to find ice crystals scattered across my chambers, delicate fractals that speak of my failing control. The pressure builds in my blood, in my bones, a constant reminder that time runs short.

Six days.

No amount of careful planning can halt the moons’ approach, their combined light ready to strip away every careful facade I’ve constructed. Soon, all my careful plans will be tested against forces I can’t control, powers woven into the very fabric of our world.

How much longer can I maintain this fragile balance?

Not long, I fear.

The moons are coming, dragging all my secrets into the light, and I am powerless to stop their advance.

Just as I seemed powerless last night to stop myself from giving into the desire I’ve felt for her all along, powerless to stop myself f

But if I can’t allow myself to see Lara, then I won’t be able to continue the Evans sisters’ court training.

Then again, it won’t matter how much time I spend trying to train Lara and her sister if I can’t control myself—or my magic—around her.

The ice spreads from my fingertips across the ornate desk, blooming unbidden across the polished wood. With a muttered curse, I pull my hands back, flexing my fingers as I try to regain control of my wayward magic.

Six days until Jonyk’s peace summit. The timing couldn’t be worse.

I have to wonder if the prince is trying to cause the attendees of his “peace summit” discomfort.

Papers lie scattered across my desktop—letters half-written to Uanna and Lord Vazor, each one a testament to my mounting desperation.

The proud Duke of Starfrost, reduced to begging for help.

Begging. The word evokes the memory of Lara on her knees, and a thin sheet of ice shivers into being around me.

Fuck.

I cannot train the Evans sisters alone. Not with my powers fluctuating like this. Not with the double full moon approaching.

Not with Lara’s presence haunting every corner of my domain.

Frost crackles up the walls as that thought, too, slips through my barriers. I inhale sharply, forcing the ice back, but it refuses to fully retreat. The temperature in my study drops further, and my breath clouds in the air.

“Fucking hells,” I mutter, pressing my palms flat against the desk. The wood should be cool beneath my touch, but instead it burns like fire.

Everything burns lately. Or freezes when I don’t expect it.

I turn back to the letters, forcing myself to focus on the immediate problem. The Evans sisters need to learn court etiquette, politics, self-defense, plus how to navigate the prince’s deadly ice maze—and they need to learn it all before the summit.

Before I sacrifice them to save my world.

The thought sends another surge of unwanted power through me. Ice explodes across my desk, encasing the half-finished letters in a thin sheet of frost. When I try to summon enough heat to melt it, nothing happens.

My magic flickers and dims until I sense it only as a thin thread buried deep inside.

“Goddess damn it all.” I slam my fist against the desk, and the impact sends spiderwebs of ice racing across the surface.

I have to have help. I can’t wait any longer. Uanna may be manipulative, but she knows court politics better than anyone. And Vazor...

My hand trembles slightly as I reach for a fresh sheet of paper. His twin daughters could help too—they’ve navigated the firelord court their entire lives. They could teach the Evans sisters what they need to know.

What they need to survive.

Until I need them dead.

It’s like I can’t stop thinking about what’s coming, no matter how hard I try. Or what’s been—and again, a vision of Lara with her mouth wrapped around my cock flashes across my inner eye.

Ice crystals form in the air around me, suspended like frozen tears. I wave them away with an impatient gesture, but they refuse to dissipate completely.

The door opens, and Tenyt steps inside. He hesitates at the threshold, likely noting the arctic temperature and the frost coating every surface.

“Your Lordship?” His voice wavers slightly. “Firnator Syella sends word that the maze is complete and ready for your inspection.”

Of course it is. Another piece falling into place, another step closer to the inevitable. “Tell her I’ll be out shortly.”

He bows and retreats, closing the door carefully behind him.

I turn back to the letters, forcing my hands to steady as I write. The words flow more easily now that I’ve accepted the necessity of this course.

Lady Uanna,

Your expertise in court matters would be invaluable in preparing my guests for their presentation at the peace summit. I would consider it a personal favor if you would lend your considerable talents to their education.

The ice coating my desk thickens as I write, making the pen slip across the surface. When I try to warm it enough to continue writing, nothing happens. My magic remains stubbornly cold, refusing to bend to my will.

The second letter proves even more challenging:

Lord Vazor,

Given your unique position and experience with both courts, I believe your assistance would be invaluable in preparing...

My hand cramps around the pen as another wave of uncontrolled power surges through me. The temperature plummets further, and frost forms on the windows in elaborate patterns that mock my attempts at control.

I need to finish these letters. Need to send them before I lose my nerve. Before my pride reasserts itself.

Like my world, my power is dying by inches. But I will continue to do whatever necessary to save my people. Even if it means accepting help I don’t want.

I scratch out the rest of the note to Vazor. The bell pull to summon Khrint hangs beside my desk, ice-coated and gleaming in the weak sunlight filtering through the frosted windows. I reach for it, then pause as a wave of dizziness washes over me. Finally, I manage to tug the bellpull.

“Khrint,” I call out, my voice rougher than intended. He appears almost instantly, as if he’s been waiting just outside.

“Your Lordship?” His gaze takes in the state of my study, but his expression remains carefully neutral.

“Have these delivered immediately.” I hand him the letters, not mentioning how the frost coating them begins to melt at his touch. “And inform Firnator Syella I’ll inspect the maze within the hour.”

He bows and withdraws, leaving me alone with my thoughts and my failing magic.

My powers are slipping away like water through my fingers, leaving only winter’s bite behind. And now I must put my trust in others—in Uanna’s political machinations, in Vazor’s divided loyalties.

In my ability to maintain control long enough to see this through.

The double full moon looms ahead like a death sentence, and time grows shorter with each passing moment. But I have no choice. The Evans sisters must survive long enough to serve their purpose.

Long enough for Lara...

Frost explodes across my study at the thought of her, coating every surface in glittering ice that refuses to retreat at my command.

Six days.

It will have to be enough.

It must be enough.

I rise from my desk, frost crackling beneath my feet as I move toward the door. The maze awaits inspection, and after that, a thousand other tasks that must be completed before the summit.

Before the sacrifice.

Before the end.

I follow Syella across the snow-covered field behind Starfrost Manor, my boots crunching through fresh powder with each step. The ice maze looms before us, its crystalline walls catching the sunlight and fracturing it into rainbow shards.

My breath catches at the sheer scale of it. What Syella has created is nothing short of magnificent—and utterly terrifying.

“Quite something, isn’t it?” Pride colors her tone as she gestures toward her creation. “An exact replica of Prince Jonyk’s design, down to the last detail.”

The walls tower overhead, at least fifteen feet high, their surfaces so perfectly smooth they appear liquid. Intricate patterns trace through the ice like frozen lace.

“Show me,” I say, unable to completely mask the strain in my voice. My powers flutter beneath my skin, alternating between burning heat and bone-deep cold.

Syella’s gaze slides to mine. “Having trouble with the temperature today, Your Lordship?”

I ignore her question, though frost spreads around us in answer. “The maze, if you please.”

She inclines her head slightly and moves toward the entrance, her Firnator’s robes whispering across the ground.

The patterns in the ice shift as we approach, creating an archway that wasn’t visible moments ago. My skin prickles with awareness of the magic woven into every inch of this structure.

“Mind your step,” Syella warns. “The first trap begins immediately.”

I frown as I step inside. “I thought you said the maze only left space for possible traps.”

I barely catch myself as the floor beneath my feet suddenly slopes downward at a sharp angle. If she hadn’t warned me, I would have stumbled. The realization sends an uncomfortable chill down my spine.

She gives an elegant shrug as she steps through the entryway behind me. “There are several traps built into the design itself.”

“I see,” I murmur. “So those are static traps?”

“Not exactly,” she explains, leading me deeper into the maze. “The angle of that entrance, for example, changes randomly.”

I find myself watching the ground more carefully than before.

“And the walls...” She reaches out to touch one smooth surface, and ripples spread outward from her fingers. “They shift.”

The passage ahead splits into three identical corridors. Syella takes the rightmost path without hesitation, but glancing back, I note how the ice behind us has already begun to reform, erasing our tracks.

“How do you know which way to go?” The question slips out before I can stop it.

Her thin lips curve in a smile that holds no warmth. “Practice, Your Lordship. And careful observation.”

That’s no answer.

She points upward, where barely visible lines thread through the ice overhead. “The patterns tell the story, point the way out, if you know how to read them.”

But learning to read those patterns will take time—time we don’t have.

We continue deeper into the maze, and with each turn, each new corridor, my unease grows.

Syella points out more traps—patches of ice that will shatter into glass-sharp shards at the barest touch, dead ends that seal themselves off, optical illusions that make straight paths appear curved.

“Here,” she says, stopping in what appears to be an ordinary intersection. “Watch.”

She picks up a handful of snow and tosses it into the corridor ahead. The snow never reaches the ground. Instead, it vanishes mid-air with a soft sizzling sound.

“An entropy field,” she explains. “Anyone who steps into it will find themselves... redistributed.”

My stomach turns. “Jonyk’s work?”

“Oh yes. The prince has quite the imagination when it comes to such things.”

We press on, and I try to memorize the path, the patterns, the countless deadly surprises. But it’s hopeless. Without Syella’s guidance, I would be thoroughly lost—and quite possibly dead.

How can I expect Lara and Izzy to learn this in just a few days?

The thought of Lara sends another surge of uncontrolled power through me. Ice crackles up the walls, and Syella steps back quickly.

“Careful, Your Lordship. We wouldn’t want to destabilize the structure.”

I clench my fists, trying to rein in my wayward magic.

Fuck. How am I going to get through the double full moon myself—much less help Lara and Izzy?

“Show me the rest,” I grit out.

Syella’s single raised eyebrow makes my jaw clench, but she continues the tour without comment.

More traps. More illusions. More ways to die.

Finally, we reach what appears to be the center of the maze. A circular chamber opens before us, its domed ceiling creating the illusion of endless space.

“The heart,” Syella announces. “Where the prince will no doubt stage some form of entertainment.”

Or an execution.

The thought comes unbidden, accompanied by an image of Lara trapped here, surrounded by ice and treachery.

My magic surges again, and this time I can’t contain it. Frost explodes outward, coating the walls in thick sheets of uncontrolled ice. The temperature plummets until even Syella shivers.

“Your Lordship?” Concern edges her voice. “Perhaps we should continue this another time?”

“No.” I force the word out through clenched teeth. “Show me the way out. The fastest route.”

She hesitates. “There are multiple exits, each with their own challenges. In the prince’s maze, I suspect some will be blocked, others trapped...”

“Show me all of them.”

By the time we finally emerge from the maze, my head is spinning with paths and patterns and deadly possibilities.

Syella has marked each exit, each major trap, but I know it won’t be enough. One Earth week isn’t nearly enough time to learn this lethal labyrinth.

“I’ll need to make some modifications,” I tell her, though my voice sounds distant to my own ears. “Additional features.”

“Of course.” She studies me with those unnerving pale eyes. “Though I wonder, Your Lordship, if you’ve considered all the variables in your plan.”

Heat flares beneath my skin. “Meaning?”

“Only that mazes have a way of revealing truths we’d rather keep hidden.” She gestures at the ice structure behind us. “Every path leads somewhere, whether we wish it to or not.”

Before I can respond, another wave of dizziness washes over me.

My magic surges, and ice spreads from my feet in a rapidly expanding circle. Syella steps back quickly, but her expression holds more calculation than fear.

“I’ll leave you to your preparations,” she says, bowing slightly. “Though if I might make a suggestion? Practice the maze at night, when the moons are highest. The patterns are clearer then.”

She turns and walks away, leaving me alone with her creation and the single thought echoing through my mind, over and over again.

Not enough time.

Not enough time to learn this maze, to master its deadly intricacies. Not enough time to teach Lara and Izzy everything they need to know to survive the court.

Not enough time to find another way.

My magic flares again, responding to my turbulent emotions. When I try to pull it back, to contain it within myself, nothing happens.

The ice continues to spread, beautiful and terrible and completely beyond my control.

Like everything else in my life.

Like what I feel for Lara.

Vazor and Uanna will come—they’ll have to come. And somehow, we’ll have to prepare the Evans sisters for what’s coming.

Even though nothing can truly prepare them for their fate.

Behind me, the maze gleams in the winter sunlight, its beauty a reminder of everything that lies ahead. A reminder that some paths, once chosen, can never be undone.

And I chose mine the moment I bought Lara Evans in the Trasqo Market.

I turn away from the maze, frost trailing in my wake as I head back toward the manor, marking my passage like tears, frozen in that time we do not have.

Six more days until we go to court.

Until the beginning of the moment I lose her forever.