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

Chapter 23

CHAPTER 23

IVRAEL

T he next day at noon, just before Lord Vazor calls a halt to the girls’ practice to break for lunch, a messenger arrives to let me know Lady Uanna will arrive just around sunset.

In the meantime, it’s occurred to me that it might not be as easy to kill Lara and Izzy as I’ve been assuming. After all, her power rose to protect her from Lord Oesterin’s fire during my ball but there has still been no sign of it since.

And as much as I want to take her over my knee to compel her to learn what she needs to know, that will only lead to…

I cut off the thought before I can respond to it.

Distractions . These are all distractions.

Despite my continued attempts to exert control over my power, the temperature in my study drops another ten degrees as I stare at the papers spread across my desk.

Notes and theories about Lara’s power mock me with their uselessness. Nothing I’ve tried has provoked a consistent response.

Goddess damn it, even the attack at the ball produced only a momentary flare of magic—impossible to replicate without risking more lives.

I’m no closer to understanding how to awaken the sisters’ abilities than I was when I first discovered their heritage.

A knock at my door breaks through my brooding.

“Enter,” I call out, not bothering to look up from my notes.

“Lady Uanna has arrived, Your Lordship.” Khrint’s voice carries a carefully neutral tone that makes me lift my head.

I lean back in my chair, ice crystals forming in the air around me as I exhale. “Show her to the blue parlor. I’ll be there shortly.”

Khrint bows and withdraws. I remain seated for a moment, gathering my control. The last thing I need is Uanna sensing any weakness. She’s always been too perceptive for her own good—or mine.

When I enter the parlor, Uanna stands by the window, a vision in white and silver silk. She turns at my approach, and those pale blue eyes assess me with familiar calculation.

“Ivrael.” She moves toward me, one hand extended. “How desperate you must be, to summon me here.”

“Lady Uanna.” I take her fingers in mine and bow over them, brushing my lips across them with only the barest touch before I straighten and step back, maintaining careful distance. “Thank you for coming.”

“Could I refuse?” Her smile curves like a crescent moon, sharp enough to draw blood. “After all, if your plan fails, I’ll be just as dead as you.”

I gesture for her to take a seat, but she remains standing, drifting toward my desk instead. “How thoughtful of you to care.”

She snorts but doesn’t respond directly.

“I heard the most interesting rumor while preparing to travel here.” She trails one finger along the edge of my desk, and I have to resist the urge to freeze it solid beneath her touch. “Something about you consorting with firelords.”

“Rumors can be dangerous.”

“So can firelords.” She spins to face me, all pretense of pleasantry vanishing. “Have you lost your mind? Firelords? They’ll betray you the moment it serves their purposes.”

“The plan requires their cooperation.”

“It requires them to be predictable.” She practically spits the words. “Firelords are never predictable. They’re animals, ruled by instinct and flame.”

I turn back to her, letting my power frost the windowpanes behind me. “They’re necessary.”

“They’re a liability.” She presses her lips together, watching me with those too-perceptive eyes. “But I suppose you’ve left me no choice in this either. Your letter made that quite clear.”

“You always have a choice.” I infuse my voice with power. “You simply don’t like the alternatives.”

She laughs, the sound brittle and sharp. “And what of your little mixed-breed pets? Are they ready for court? Or will they embarrass us all and get us executed that much faster?”

“That’s why I asked you here.” I raise an eyebrow. “To ensure they don’t.”

“Someone has to.” She moves closer. “Your plan is insane enough without adding untrained hybrids to the mix. If they can’t convince the court they belong there, we’re all dead.”

“Then I suggest you focus on preparing them properly.”

Her eyes narrow. “I want to see them. Now.”

I consider refusing, but this is why I requested her help. I ring for Khrint and instruct him to summon the Evans sisters.

They arrive moments later, Lara striding in with that defiant grace that makes my blood burn, Izzy following with more calculated wariness, both wearing court dresses Madame Evangeny created.

Uanna circles them slowly as Lara glares at her. “Well. At least they’re pretty. That’s something.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Izzy says.

Uanna stops in front of Lara. “Though beauty means little if you can’t master proper etiquette.”

“Don’t be a bitch,” Lara says.

“She’s here to help you,” I snap, but Lara simply shrugs.

Uanna’s smile turns predatory. “Show me your court curtsy.”

I watch as Lara demonstrates, and even I can see the slight wobble in her execution. Uanna clicks her tongue disapprovingly.

“Disaster. Absolute disaster.” She whirls to face me. “You expect me to make them presentable by the beginning of the summit?”

“I expect you to do whatever necessary to ensure our survival.”

Her nostrils flare, but she nods sharply. “Fine. But we do this properly.”

I wonder how she’ll handle working with Vazor on this.

She turns back to the sisters. “You’ll both dress formally for dinner tonight. We’ll begin with proper dining etiquette.”

“We’ve been practicing with—” Izzy starts to say, but Uanna cuts her off.

“Not enough. Clearly not enough.” She gestures imperiously toward the door. “Go. Change. We’ll see if you can manage to walk in full court attire without embarrassing yourselves.”

The sisters exchange glances, but when I nod, they withdraw. Only once they’re gone does Uanna turn back to me.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, Ivrael.” Her voice drops to barely above a whisper. “Firelords, untrained hybrids, court politics... One wrong move and we all freeze. Or burn.”

“Then we’ll have to ensure there are no wrong moves.”

She studies me for a long moment. “You’ve changed. The Ivrael I knew would never risk so much on such an uncertain gamble.”

“The Ivrael you knew died the day he realized our magic was disappearing.”

Pain flashes across her face before her court mask slips back into place. “Perhaps he did. I hope this new version knows what he’s doing.”

“I do.”

She moves toward the door, then pauses. “I’ll make sure your humans survive the peace summit. But not for you—for me. I refuse to die because you’ve become a martyr.”

She sweeps out, and I turn back to the window, watching as fresh snow begins to fall.

Frost creeps across the glass, obscuring my reflection. Soon I’ll have to join them for dinner, have to watch Uanna pick apart every flaw in their presentation while pretending it doesn’t matter.

Have to maintain my mask of cold control while everything inside me burns.

The irony would be amusing if it weren’t so deadly.

And the circumstances so utterly beyond my control.

T he dining room feels like a battlefield.

Uanna sits rigid and upright at my right hand, while Vazor lounges with deceptive casualness to my left. His daughters flank Lara and Izzy across the table, as if they could somehow impart proper etiquette through proximity alone.

I can practically taste the tension crackling through the air like lightning before a storm.

Servants glide in with the first course—delicate slices of raw fish arranged in intricate patterns on beds of shaved ice. Izzy’s face pales as she stares at the glistening flesh.

“Is it... supposed to be like that?” she whispers to her sister.

“The Ice Court prefers their food untouched by heat,” I explain before Lara can answer. “Much like your Earth delicacy of sushi.”

“There’s a difference between sushi and... this.” The fish shimmers with an otherworldly blue sheen that marks it as distinctly not from Earth.

I’d allowed the girls to retire to their suite for dinner the night before after Lara had claimed to be tired. Perhaps that had been a mistake. Apparently, they need all the practice they can get with all aspects of Icecaix life.

“The minerals in our oceans give the flesh of the moonfish its unique properties,” Uanna says, her tone dripping with barely concealed disdain as she demonstrates the proper way to consume the delicacy. “One must develop a sophisticated palate to appreciate it.”

I watch Lara take a careful bite, controlling her reaction far better than her sister. She’s grown more accustomed to our ways over the past year, though I know she still prefers Adefina’s cooked meals.

The thought sends an unexpected pang through my chest.

“You’ll need to learn to eat everything served at court without flinching,” Uanna continues. “Any sign of distaste could be interpreted as an insult.”

“An insult that could get you killed,” Vazor adds helpfully.

Izzy pokes at a translucent slice with her fork.

“No, no, absolutely not.” Uanna’s voice cuts through the strained silence. “That is the dessert fork. How do you expect to survive at court if you cannot master basic place settings?”

Izzy’s fingers tighten around the offending utensil.

“I’ve seen Ice Court nobles eat. They don’t use half these forks.” Lara’s voice drops, taking on a sharp edge. “I’ve also seen them do far bloodier things at parties than use the wrong silverware.”

Izzy’s head snaps toward her sister, concern flashing across her face as understanding ripples through our small group.

Memories of the other Caix gatherings she’s seen—especially of that final ball—hang in the air between us. Memories of debauchery. Of pain.

Of fire and screaming and death.

“You’ve seen them eat in private.” Uanna’s words cut through the memories. “Court dining is an entirely different matter. One wrong move and you expose yourselves as the frauds you are.”

I watch Lara’s jaw clench, the muscle ticking beneath her skin.

Harai and Rhaela exchange glances. The twins have been quiet throughout this farce of a dinner, though I note how Rhaela’s gaze keeps drifting to Izzy’s careful movements.

Like now, as Izzy methodically rearranges her silverware, her movements precise and controlled. “Like this?”

“Perfect,” Rhaela says.

“Perhaps we could focus on the actual meal?” Vazor suggests, his golden scales catching the light as he reaches for his wine glass. “After all, proper etiquette means little if they starve to death at the table.”

Uanna’s nostrils flare. “By all means, let them stuff themselves like common servants. I’m sure Prince Jonyk won’t notice at all.”

“Believe me,” Izzy mutters, just loud enough to carry, “I won’t be stuffing myself with any of this food.”

Staring at Uanna, Lara rolls her eyes. “The prince will be too busy watching for signs of treachery to care about fork placement.”

Uanna inhales sharply. “Everything matters at court. Everything is watched, noted, remembered. One slip in etiquette can reveal volumes about a person’s background—or lack thereof.”

“Then teach us what matters instead of obsessing over forks!” Lara’s outburst sends ripples through her wine glass. “Teach us how to survive.”

“This is survival.” Uanna’s voice could freeze flame. “Every detail, every gesture, every breath you take? It. Must. Be. Perfect. The court will be looking for any excuse to destroy you—to destroy all of us.”

I watch Lara absorb this, see the slight shift in her posture as understanding dawns. She may hate the lessons, but she knows Uanna is right.

“Now.” Uanna straightens her already perfect spine. “The next course is about to be served. Show me how you would accept it.”

Servants glide in with bowls of chilled soup, the surface decorated with intricate frost patterns. I observe as Lara and Izzy attempt to mimic Uanna’s precise movements—the exact angle of wrist, the proper grip on the spoon, the careful way she breaks the delicate ice design before taking each sip.

“Better,” Uanna allows, though her tone suggests ‘better’ is nowhere near good enough. “Though you’re still holding your spoons like peasants.”

Vazor snorts softly. “They are peasants, by Ice Court standards. No amount of polish will change that.”

“Then we must make them appear to be very well-disguised peasants.” Uanna’s smile shows too many teeth. “Unless you’d prefer to explain to Prince Jonyk why we’re presenting them at court?”

The firelord inclines his head, conceding the point. His daughters remain focused on their own bowls, though I notice Rhaela demonstrating the proper spoon grip to Izzy when she thinks no one is watching.

Course after course arrives, each accompanied by Uanna’s sharp corrections and increasingly frustrated sighs.

“Shoulders back,” Uanna snaps at Lara. “You’re not hunching over a kitchen pot anymore.”

Anger flashes through Lara’s eyes before her walls slam back into place.

“Perhaps that’s enough for tonight,” I suggest, my voice carrying enough frost to make even Uanna pause.

She turns those pale eyes on me. “Would you rather I coddle them now and watch them die at court?”

“I would rather they survive your instruction long enough to reach court.”

Tension crackles between us. For a moment, I see the echo of what we once were to each other—two ambitious nobles playing at love.

“My lord.” Vazor’s voice breaks through the moment. “If I might suggest—perhaps some practical demonstration would be more effective than constant correction?”

Uanna’s lips press into a thin line, but she nods sharply.

“Very well.” Vazor turns to the twins. “Show them how it’s done.”

Harai and Rhaela straighten, their movements suddenly becoming even more precise and elegant. Every gesture is a study in court perfection—the exact tilt of head, the proper way to signal for more wine, the careful dabbing of lips between bites.

I watch Lara watching them, see how she catalogs each movement, each subtle grace note. She may resist Uanna’s harsh instruction, but she’s far from stupid. She knows her life will be at stake.

The remainder of the dinner passes in a haze of demonstrations and attempts at replication. By the time the final course arrives, even Uanna seems drained by the constant tension.

“Enough,” she finally declares, setting down her napkin with precise movements. “We’ll continue tomorrow. I expect better results.”