Chapter 15
CHAPTER 15
IVRAEL
I ’ve been aware from the beginning that Lara is counting down the days to her sister’s birthday. What I don’t know is what she plans to do with that information, though the expression behind her eyes when I encounter her in the ballroom suggests she would as soon gut me as anything else.
But perhaps someone else knows more now that the day is growing closer.
After I exit the ballroom, I head downstairs, then wait for the tiny raya—Kila, I believe?—to leave the kitchen, presumably headed out to catch up with Lara on her daily rounds. Finally, I slip inside to check in with Adefina.
“She’s still keeping track of time,” my cook announces, nodding toward the corner where Lara has written on the wall.
“But you haven’t told her I know that?”
“Of course not. You said to leave her be, so I have.” Adefina scratches her nose, then rests her hands on her broad hips, elbows akimbo as she narrows her gaze and taps one foot. “I still can’t say I think she’s any less angry than she was that first night. ”
I huff out an amused breath. “I imagine not. But it won’t be much longer now.”
She crosses her arms over her chest. “And will you ever be telling me the why of what you’re doing?” She continues speaking before I have a chance to answer. “As far as I can tell, you’ve done nothing but antagonize and torment the child.”
That sends an arrow of regret straight through my gut, and I wince.
“I can see how you feel about the girl,” Adefina says. I go still for a brief moment, testing the hard block of ice I’ve used to encase my heart, checking for any fault lines or jagged edges, places where feelings might actually leak through.
Luckily, there are none.
Part of me wants to explain to the cook, tell her why what I’m doing is necessary. But the more people who know what I’m doing, the more likely my plan is to fail.
I have tortured myself, too, I want to explain. I’ve spent every day aching to tell someone, anyone.
But I can’t.
And so in the end, I’m left standing silent as time continues ticking down slowly to the moment I’ll be able to put the final elements of my plans into effect.
Finally, Adefina throws up her arms in irritation, and turns away. “Have it your way.”
But she’s still muttering under her breath as she walks away.
Oddly enough, her reaction calms the anxiety roiling through me, convinces me that no explanation would ever suffice.
Adefina has taken Lara into her warm Starcaix embrace—and if my cook knew what I planned to do, she would join forces with Lara in a heartbeat.
Luckily for me, she has no idea.
But I worry what will happen when she finds out.
B ack in my rooms, I pause by the window, staring out at the snow-covered grounds. The fire in my chambers crackles, drawing my attention. Lara must have been here earlier to tend it. Her scent lingers, sweet and warm, completely at odds with my frozen world outside. I inhale deeply before I can stop myself.
I cannot have her, I remind myself. Moving to my desk, I pull out the ancient text I’ve kept hidden in a false drawer. The pages are brittle, the ink faded, but the words are still clear: When Starfire fails, only Starfire blood can restore it.
Simple enough words.
Devastating implications.
I trace the lines with one finger. The day I first read this text, I knew what I would have to do. What I’ve spent cycles preparing for.
Finding the Evans sisters, bringing them here, waiting for their powers to manifest… I’d thought that would be the difficult part.
But nothing prepared me for how difficult it would be to watch Lara work in my household, to see her strength and determination, to witness her defiance in the face of captivity. Nothing warned me that I might come to admire her.
Want her.
Need her.
A discreet knock at my door interrupts my brooding. I quickly return the text to its hiding place.
“Enter.”
Khrint appears to announce that the baron has requested I join him riding.
I tilt my face toward the ceiling and pinch the bridge of my nose between my thumb and forefinger. “Did he happen to specify why he wants me to go riding with him?”
“No, Your Lordship. He merely asked me to relay the message.” Khrint says nothing more, but I can tell by the twist of his lip that however little the baron might have said to him, my valet does not approve of Svalkat.
I allow my own lip to curl up in just a hint of a smile—enough to let the servant know that I’ve both received and understood his message. In the Icecaix Court, often the smallest expressions or intonations give the most information. “Very well,” I say. “Please let Baron Svalkat know that I’ll join him for a ride in one solar click.”
Khrint bows stiffly, his back perfectly straight, and leaves the room without another word.
I exit Starfrost Manor into the front drive almost precisely one solar click later. It's a sunny day, the kind with sunlight sparkling on fresh snowfall. The sky above is a beautiful, bright blue—a rarity in my domain.
The baron is already waiting for me, marching to and fro. His steps stir up the snow in the circular drive, which servants smoothed only this morning.
He wears full formal riding gear, including a long-tailed coat, a top hat, and gloves—he is pulling on the latter as I move to join him.
“Glorious day for a ride, isn’t it?” The baron finishes tugging on his second glove and pulls a riding crop out from under his arm.
I give the crop a pointed glance. “Are we using live beasts as mounts today?” Then I let a little of Khrint’s attitude from earlier seep into my voice as I raise my eyebrows and give the tiniest hint of a smile. “Or do you anticipate your constructs escaping your control?”
Baron Svalkat gives a bark of laughter, despite the subtle insult I’ve handed him by suggesting he can’t control his magical creations. “Neither,” he says as he turns to call up two magical mounts, then pauses to glance back at me. “Still, important to look the part, don’t you think?” He leans toward me as if imparting a confidence, and his rank breath floats across me. “His Highness insists upon full riding attire whenever we go out.”
His gaze roves from the top of my hatless head down to my well worn riding boots, and then flicks back toward his constructs, still lumps of ice and snow in the drive. “It seemed only polite to offer you the same courtesy. ”
“Ah, yes, of course,” I say, working to keep any inflection at all out of my voice—a task made even more difficult when I finally glance at the mounts the baron had been conjuring. “I see why you felt the need to carry a crop.”
Svalkat shoots a suspicious glance at me, frowning.
“After all,” I continue, “predators often turn on their creators.”
“Only when those creators can’t maintain control over their creatures.” He gives me a sidelong glance, and his meaning is clear in his undertones: someone—possibly the baron himself, but more likely the prince—sees me as a predator that needed controlling.
Oh, my dear baron . You have no idea.
“Shall we?” I gesture at the enormous snow leopard constructs he’s conjured, ignoring Svalkat’s smug expression.
I’ve always considered constructing predatory ice creatures to be as much vanity as skill—specifically because they are more prone to turning on their handlers. Moreover, it takes less control to pour one’s own anger and cruelty into a construct than it does to restrain those tendencies entirely to ensure a calm, tractable creation.
The ice swans Svalkat had conjured to draw his carriage were more impressive than these beasts. Though I do have to admit the Baron certainly has an eye for beauty.
As I swing onto the back of the mount he waves me toward, I’m also forced to admit he’s a talented conjurer. The cats he’s created are graceful and elegant, as well as comfortable to ride, stalking across the snow with an easy gait, their shoulders rolling under us.
“Did you have somewhere in particular in mind to ride today?” I ask as the cats stroll out of the main gate.
“I thought perhaps we could ride near the foothills at the border of your domain.” He reaches down to pet the cat as he gestures with his chin toward the Ashenfang mountains.
Near the firelords’ borders. Of course.
“It’s a long ride,” I warn him.
“Our mounts are made to run.” And with that, Svalkat spurs his snow cat onward. The one I ride leaps into motion behind its partner, and the two race across the snow-covered fields separating us from the foothills.
The ride itself is glorious. The cool, sharp spray of snow flying up around us in invigorating clouds sets my heart racing, and I can’t help the smile on my face when we finally pull up well over two full quintclicks later.
As we rode, I was glad to learn the riding cat follows my commands easily. The baron might seem tightly wound, but the ease with which we rein in his riding creatures suggests there might be something more substantive to Svalkat than I anticipated. Of course, that could be a problem.
“We’re almost there,” I call out as he circles around and comes to a halt beside me. “The foothills begin just over that rise. I suggest we stop here, as the foothills form the boundary between the firelords’ realm and mine.”
“Of course.” The baron turns to ride parallel to the foothills, his hands resting lightly against the snow leopard’s back. After a moment, he glances over at me. “There’s another reason I asked you to ride today.”
“Indeed?” I assumed as much, of course.
“I did not come to Starfrost merely for a social visit,” he says solemnly, as if imparting a great secret. “Prince Jonyk asked me to pay you a visit.”
“And what did His Highness hope to achieve with such a visit?” I ask, carefully modulating my tone.
How much does Prince Jonyk actually trust him?
The baron sweeps a half-bow from atop his leopard’s back, his voice taking on a ceremonial cadence. “It is my great pleasure and honor to inform you that His Royal Highness Prince Jonyk and his retinue will be visiting Starfrost Manor a half ten-day hence, and you, Duke Ivrael Eluwyn, are to be accorded all the honors and duties attendant to such a visit.”
No.
I barely manage to keep myself from saying the word aloud.
I cannot afford to have Prince Jonyk and his retinue—which, of course, means all the toadies and hangers-on of the Icecaix Court—crowding into my home.
Fucking up my plans.
I realize I’ve been staring open-mouthed and silent at Baron Svalkat for far too long. I manage a short, sharp bow. There is nothing I can do other than give my assent.
“Of course,” I manage to say, even as cold, sparkling violence surges up inside me on a tide of frustration and anger.
The baron is practically giddy with delight, far too excited to notice my hesitation, I initially think—though come to think of it, I’m not certain whether he’s excited because he can finally tell me the reason for his visit, or if he’s thrilled by my less-than-enthusiastic response.
The snow cat beneath me begins to twitch, the magic controlling it responding to my emotions. Inhaling deeply, I rein in my anger, tying it down, working to dominate the construct as I would one of my own creatures. Without thinking, I touch the ruff of icy fur around its neck, sending some of my personal power through the touch to bring it back under control. The creature instantly stills.
It’s a beginner's mistake, one I never would have made if I weren't so discomfited by Svalkat’s announcement of Prince Jonyk’s intent to invade my home, bringing along the worst of the Icecaix Court.
But I should not have been able to use my power on the riding cat. No Caix could control another’s constructs—not without great effort and a large expenditure of magical power.
Worse, I see it when Svalkat jerks at the feeling of my magic flashing against his. I tamp down on my magnetics immediately, just in time to catch the baron casting a quizzical glance in my direction. I ignore his expression, and ask my own question instead.
“And what, if I might ask, is the purpose of His Highness's visit?” I pause and clear the frost from my throat. “So I might aid him in whatever he needs, of course.”
The Baron pauses for a long moment, his gaze searching mine, and I can practically smell him wondering if he felt what he thinks he did— the impossible sensation of another Icecaix’s magic coming through his bonds with his constructs.
I keep my own expression guileless and open, waiting for him to respond to my question. But beneath that expression, I hold myself ready.
I don’t want to kill the baron—not now. It will raise too many questions.
But I’m prepared to do so if necessary.
Finally, Svalkat shakes off his concern enough to respond. “His Highness,” he says, “is taking a small retinue to parlay with the firelord king. He’s hoping to broker a new peace with King Kavan.” He waves a hand in the air. “But that’s neither here nor there—it’s only important inasmuch as it means that he has decided to break his return journey here, in your domain, at Starfrost Manor.”
The baron’s voice goes up a full ten-note between “Starfrost” and “Manor,” and he claps his hands together, then raises his shoulders around his ears as if hugging himself.
I force myself to smile. But this is even worse than I anticipated. If I’m not careful, my entire plan could come crashing down around me—and with it, my whole world.
I have to figure out how to salvage my carefully constructed plans—and quickly. Otherwise, my entire planet will be destroyed.
It’s time to move up my timeline.
Time to force Lara to reveal her powers to me.