Chapter 34
CHAPTER 34
LARA
T he walk back to Starfrost Manor feels endless, my legs shaky from everything that’s happened.
Beside me, Ivrael moves with that otherworldly grace of his, apparently unbothered by his complete lack of clothing. The moonlight catches on his bare skin, making him look carved from living ice.
I try not to stare. Try not to remember how his hands felt as they caressed me. How he felt inside me.
The sounds of voices carry across the snow-covered grounds, growing louder as we approach. My stomach drops and my steps slow involuntarily as I realize practically the entire household has gathered outside the manor’s back entrance—servants, guests, everyone.
“Ah, hell.”
The crowd falls silent as we draw closer, and I catch Izzy’s wide-eyed stare. She stands between the firelord twins, her hand clasped in Rhaela’s. Kila hovers nearby, her tiny wings buzzing with agitation, Adefina waiting next to her with a tea towel in her hand, prepared to wrap up the raya as soon as Kila realizes she’s cold.
Then the silence explodes into chaos.
“Was that really a dragon?”
“Where did all that light come from?”
“Did anyone else see the ice walls shatter?”
“Your Lordship, are you quite all right?”
The questions come from all directions, voices overlapping until I can barely distinguish one from another. I’d like to answer what I can, but how can I explain what happened?
How could I even begin to describe Ivrael’s transformation? Or my own explosion of power?
And assuming I do figure out how to discuss any of it…should I?
Izzy appears at my elbow, Kila perched on her shoulder, my sister’s voice barely above a whisper. “What’s going on between you two? And why is he naked?”
Heat floods my cheeks. “It’s...complicated.”
Kila’s wings buzz faster. “I knew something was different! The way he looks at you now?—”
“Silence!” Ivrael’s voice cracks across the courtyard.
Everyone immediately falls quiet.
He somehow manages to look regal despite his complete lack of clothing, those impossible eyes swirling with golden sparks as he surveys the gathered crowd.
“I understand you all have questions,” he says, his tone carrying that edge of command that makes me shiver with remembered need. “I will address everything you each need to know—and nothing more—in the morning.”
Murmurs ripple through the crowd, but no one dares argue directly.
“Now,” he continues, “I suggest everyone return to their rooms.”
The crowd begins to disperse, though I catch several backwards glances and whispered conversations.
“I should go too,” I say, turning toward the entrance. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
But before I can take a step, Ivrael’s hand catches my arm. He pulls me to him, and suddenly his mouth is on mine.
The kiss is possessive, claiming, his lips cool against my heated skin. My body betrays me instantly, melting into him despite our audience. His hand tangles in my hair as he deepens the kiss, and I forget about everything else—the watching servants, my sister’s shocked gasp, Kila’s delighted squeal.
When he finally releases me, I’m breathless and trembling.
“Good night,” he murmurs against my lips, then steps back with a possessive smile that makes my knees weak. Again.
As I stumble toward the entrance on unsteady legs, I hear the shocked whispers start up again behind me. But all I can think about is the taste of starlight and ice still lingering on my tongue, and how nothing will ever be the same after tonight.
“There is no way you’re sending me back to the kitchen tonight,” Kila trills out, diving toward me and landing to perch on my shoulder. “Not after that display.”
Izzy falls in beside me and grabs my upper arm, steadying me and keeping hold of me, all at the same time. “You are telling me everything as soon as we get up to our room.”
So I did.
Everything she needed to know, anyway.
“ T ell me exactly how and why you need Izzy and me,” I demand as soon as we’re all gathered in the drawing room the next morning.
The space feels overcrowded with Lord Vazor’s imposing presence by the window, his golden scales catching the pale morning light. His daughters flank him—Rhaela standing rigid and alert while Harai lounges against the wall with deceptive casualness.
Lady Uanna perches on a delicate chair like it’s a throne, her white-blonde hair immaculate even at this early hour. The temperature in the room drops several degrees as Ivrael moves to stand before us.
“I need to activate the spell with your blood,” Ivrael says, his voice pitched low. “Just a few drops, that’s all.”
Kila buzzes anxiously around my head before settling on my shoulder. “I don’t like this,” she mutters, her tiny wings quivering.
“How can our blood possibly be useful in your spell?” I press, trying to ignore how Uanna’s pale eyes study me like I’m an interesting specimen.
“Why us?” Izzy asks at the same time, unconsciously shifting closer to where Rhaela stands. The firelord princess’s scales shimmer as she gives my sister a reassuring nod.
“This isn’t something I can do by myself.” Frost crackles beneath Ivrael’s feet as he speaks. “The spell I need to use to depose Jonyk isn’t allowed among the Caix for good reason—it reflects back upon the wielder if it’s used against another Caix.”
“So?” Izzy challenges. “Get someone else to cast it.”
I give her a quelling glance—not that those have ever worked to quell her before. “And the same isn’t true for us?”
“Your hybrid Caix-human ancestry should allow your blood to let me use the spell with impunity,” Ivrael explains.
“Should?” Izzy’s tone drips skepticism.
Lord Vazor steps forward, his massive form casting shadows across the floor. “The ancient texts are quite clear on this point,” he rumbles. “Only those of mixed blood can safely channel such magic.”
“That’s why you brought us here?” I ask Ivrael directly, watching his face for any hint of deception.
“Yes.” A muscle twitches in his jaw as he nods.
Harai pushes away from the wall. “Father, perhaps we should?—”
“Silence,” Vazor commands, and she subsides, though her eyes remain sharp and watchful.
I have to know if he’s the cold, heartless duke I’ve observed for the last year—or if who I’ve seen lately might be closer to the truth. “What about the Ice Court members the firelord burned to death in your ballroom?”
The room temperature plummets further as Ivrael answers, “Jonyk’s inner circle was instrumental in his plan to destroy the firelords.”
“And your servants?” I press on despite Kila’s warning tug at my hair. “The ones you hand-picked to be on duty that night?”
“They were spies,” Uanna interjects smoothly. “Everyone working in the ballroom that night was reporting back to Prince Jonyk’s people.”
“And so was the boy I had hanged in the courtyard your first day at Frost Manor,” Ivrael adds quietly.
“Hanged?” Izzy repeats, horror coloring her voice. Rhaela moves closer to her, offering silent support.
“But... did any of them deserve to die?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper. “That boy—he was just a kid.”
Ivrael’s voice turns bitter. “That boy, as you call him—he was forty, by the way; not all Caix age as you might expect—caused the death of more than a dozen children. I learned about his activities when I trusted him with plans to free a group of firelord children from Jonyk’s dungeons.”
“Firelord children ?” Izzy asks, and I notice Rhaela’s scales dim to a muted bronze, her usual fierce demeanor cracking.
“It happened during the last peace accords meeting,” Harai says quietly, her long dark hair falling forward to partially shield her face. “We were supposed to be there, but Father kept us away at the last moment. Our cousins weren’t so fortunate.”
Lord Vazor’s massive form seems to grow even larger as rage ripples through his golden scales. “Jonyk invited twelve firelord families to celebrate the spring equinox. A gesture of peace, he claimed. The adults were separated from their children for a ‘special performance.’” His voice drops to a growl that makes the windows rattle. “The performance was dying for the prince.”
Rhaela’s hands clench into fists. “Our cousin Mira was only seven. She loved to dance, to make her scales catch the light...” She breaks off, turning away. Izzy reaches for her hand, and the fierce warrior princess allows the contact.
“The prince had them brought to the throne room one by one,” Harai continues, her usual gentle demeanor hardening to steel. “He wanted to see if firelord children could survive being frozen. Could maintain their inner flame against his ice.”
“None of them could,” Vazor says flatly. “Twenty-three children. The youngest was four.”
The temperature in the room plummets as Ivrael speaks. “I learned of it too late. The spy I hanged—he was the one who locked the children in. Kept their parents from reaching them.” Frost spreads from his feet in jagged patterns. “He laughed when he told me how they screamed.”
I feel sick. Kila’s tiny form trembles against my neck as she whispers, “The Starcaix lands wept that day.”
“After that,” Vazor rumbles, “there could be no true peace. Not while Jonyk lives. The best we can get is not actively hunting each other.”
Izzy’s face has gone pale, her hand still clasped in Rhaela’s. “How could anyone do that to children?”
“Because he enjoys it,” Uanna says. “He calls it ‘testing the limits of magic.’ But really, he simply likes to cause pain.”
The silence that follows feels heavy enough to crush us all.
Dropping Rhaela’s hand, Izzy stands and begins pacing, and Ivrael’s expression is almost sympathetic.
The ice-cold duke who can’t bear to see the children of his monarch’s enemy die.
No wonder I could never bring myself to kill him.
Finally I speak, my voice cutting through the heavy silence that follows the firelords’ dark tale. “It’s just a couple drops of blood, right?”
The duke turns his gaze toward me—and for a moment, I could swear he’s confused by my question.
“Oh. Yes,” he eventually says. “Just a few drops.”
It’s almost like there’s a pattern here I can’t see, some storybook rule about the prince needing both a princess and a dragon.
No. That can’t be right.
I’m missing something important.
Probably starting with the fact that I’m not a princess. And Ivrael is sure as fuck not the prince of the story.
He’s the dragon.
“What happens after you have the blood?” Izzy asks.
Uanna leans forward in her chair, her pale eyes sharp with interest, and Lord Vazor’s golden scales ripple as he exchanges a loaded glance with his daughters.
“Have a seat, and I’ll tell you.” Ivrael gestures toward the cushion next to me. Huffing out an irritated breath, Izzy drops down onto it, though I notice she positions herself closer to where Rhaela stands rigidly at attention.
Kila lifts off from my shoulder and buzzes anxiously around my head for a few moments before settling back down on my other shoulder. Her tiny wings flutter against my neck as she whispers, “I really don’t trust any of this.”
“Fine. I’m sitting.” Izzy’s entire body seems coiled in on itself. “Tell us precisely what you need from us, what it will entail, and how it will benefit us. In detail, please.”
The temperature drops as Ivrael gathers his thoughts. “Before the closing ball the final night of the peace summit, I will take just a few drops of blood from you and your sister—by pricking your fingers,” he adds quickly as Izzy opens her mouth to interject.
“Okay,” she says, glancing at Harai, who gives an almost imperceptible nod. “That doesn’t sound too bad yet. Keep going.”
I lean forward, hyperaware of how Uanna watches us like a predator sizing up prey. As nervous as it makes me for Izzy to start interrogating Ivrael, I want to know the details too.
“I will also gather blood from two firelords,” Ivrael continues. Lord Vazor inclines his head in silent confirmation.
“Then I will use your blood and theirs to imbue a spell.”
“What spell?” Izzy demands while Rhaela’s scales shimmer with barely contained tension.
“A spell that will work to eliminate Jonyk’s power over the Ice Court Caix. It will also keep the Caix from protecting him.”
“What do you plan to do once your spell is cast?” Izzy presses. Harai moves closer to her sister, their matching scales catching the light.
“I will take the throne and hold it until a better ruler appears.”
“You don’t want it for yourself?” I ask, surprised.
Ivrael gives a derisive snort that makes Uanna’s lips thin with displeasure. “No—I don’t believe Jonyk should be allowed to use it as a launching point for cruelty, but I don’t want any of its power for myself.”
Kila’s tiny voice whispers in my ear, “I don’t believe him.”
I don’t think Izzy does, either. She leans back, chewing her bottom lip thoughtfully. Her hand brushes against Rhaela’s, and neither pulls away.
But none of them saw him shift tonight.
None of them know what I know.
“Jonyk’s rule has brought nothing but corruption,” Vazor rumbles. “Perhaps it’s time for new blood.”
I wait for a moment, then make my own decision. “I’m in.”
Ivrael meets my eyes, golden sparks dancing in their icy depths as he nods. His gaze drops to linger on my mouth, and heat floods my cheeks.
“A wise choice,” Uanna murmurs, though something sharp glints in her pale eyes.
Izzy taps her slipper on the floor before nodding. “Thank you for explaining it. I’m in as well.”
Relief flashes across Rhaela’s fierce features before she schools her expression back to neutrality.
“Excellent,” Ivrael breathes, finally dragging his gaze from my lips.
“I do have one last question, though,” Izzy says.
“What’s that?”
“What do we do in the meantime?”
A predatory smile curves Ivrael’s mouth. “The firelords are supposed to begin arriving at the Ice Palace tomorrow morning.”
“Although tomorrow isn’t officially the first day of the summit,” Uanna adds, “it is nonetheless full of events designed to help the firelords and Icecaix become more comfortable with each other.”
Ivrael stands, adjusting his clothing with precise movements that speak of decades of aristocratic training.
“Are we leaving tomorrow then?” Izzy asks, unconsciously leaning toward Rhaela.
Frost crystallizes in the air as Ivrael’s court mask slides back into place. “Indeed. We will leave first thing tomorrow. You should all be prepared to depart by then. In the meantime, we’ll meet for more practice this afternoon and evening.”
“Yes, please,” Uanna says. “Their dinner manners remain atrocious.”
“Oh, yay,” Izzy mutters. “Another round of dinnertime quizzing over tableware placement. Should be great fun.”
“Ladies,” Ivrael says with a bow. Then he strides toward the door, leaving ice crystals dancing in his wake. Lord Vazor follows with his daughters, though Rhaela’s gaze lingers on Izzy. Uanna rises with fluid grace but pauses beside me.
“Do try not to die, dear,” she says sweetly. “It would be such a waste.”
Kila hisses softly as the lady glides away.
And as we prepare to head upstairs, I press my fingers to my lips and wonder what exactly we’ve just agreed to.
“ I don’t trust him,” Izzy says as soon as we are back in our suite alone.
“Wait. What? You mean Ivrael?” I stare at her blankly “Didn’t you just agree to help him?”
“Yeah. Don’t get me wrong—I still think we need to keep the creepy prince from freezing kids.” She tilts her head and looks thoughtful for a moment, tapping her cheek with her forefinger. “Though come to think of it, freezing some of our old high school classmates might’ve been kind of fun to watch.”
“Stay on topic, Iz,” I say.
“Right. It’s just…if that was the deal all along, if he really always just wanted to save the world—then why didn’t he just tell us that from the beginning? Why go through all the weirdness of buying us from Roland, keeping you locked away as a servant for a year?” Her voice turns intent as she continues. “No. There’s definitely something fucked up going on here. I just can’t figure out what it is.”
“Maybe he’s been alone in this for so long he’s afraid to open up?” I suggest.
“Yeah, right,” Izzy says “Not a chance. I mean, I might believe what he’s told us—as far as it goes. But he’s definitely not telling us everything.”
I think about what Adefina once said to me about Ivrael being better than I gave him credit for.
Was she right?
Or is Izzy?
He seemed distraught enough by the story of those kids—definitely more upset than I’ve ever seen him before.
And yet, Izzy has a point. The things Ivrael chose to do—buy us from our stepfather, bind me to him with magic ribbons around my wrists, force me to work for him for a year—none of those things are the actions of a man who is being perfectly honest and transparent.
“So what do you think we should do?” I ask.
“If he’s telling the truth, what he has planned for tomorrow at the peace summit is going to be huge. If it works, he’ll be busy taking over the kingdom afterwards.”
“And if it doesn’t work?”
“Then he’ll be busy being punished by the kingdom,” Izzy finishes. “In either case, he’ll be too busy to pay any attention to us.”
“Are you saying we should run?” I shake my head. “I don’t know if we’ll be able to get home from here.”
“I’m saying that I think we should take that opportunity to find a firelord who isn’t conspiring with Ivrael and see if they’ll give us asylum… just like we originally planned.”
I give her a skeptical look. “You have a particular firelord in mind?”
“Not…really.” My sister blushes a shade of red I’ve rarely seen on her before. “I like the twins.”
“Right. The twins .”
She rolls her eyes. “Okay, fine. I like Rhaela. But I don’t trust their father. So I think we should see who else might be open to helping us get back home.”
By the time we head downstairs for our last miserable attempt at a court-style dinner, I’ve agreed to try Izzy’s plan.
And I’m certain before my time in the Ice Court is done, I’ll betray one of them, Izzy or Ivrael.
I’m just not sure which one.