Chapter 17
CHAPTER 17
IVRAEL
T he knock at my bedchamber door the next morning couldn’t come at a worse time.
I’m watching through the window as Lara crosses the courtyard, her golden-red curls catching the pale sunlight. Even from here, I can see she’s shivering despite the patched cloaks she wears. My fingers itch to conjure heat around her, to pull her close to my body and warm her myself. I long to kiss her again, to leave her lips swollen and pink, to hear her moan with desire for me.
It had been all I could do to allow her to leave the gallery the night before, to convince myself not to take her back to my bedchamber. And now I find myself fighting the urge to go to her.
I do not have time to deal with whatever manor duties await me.
“Enter,” I call out, forcing my attention away from the window.
Khrint steps in and bows. “Your Lordship, Lady Uanna has arrived.”
For a moment, I’m certain I’ve misheard. “Lady Uanna? Here?”
“Yes, Your Lordship. She’s waiting in the front parlor.”
Acid burns in my throat. Of all the complications I don’t need right now, my former lover showing up uninvited sits at the very top of the list. Particularly with Baron Svalkat still in residence, watching my every move.
And especially, I realize, since I never actually bothered to inform Lady Uanna of her status as a “former” lover.
“I’ll be right there.” I wave Khrint away, then pause at my reflection in the window. I straighten my coat, ensuring the golden embroidery lies flat. The action is pure habit—I’ve never cared what Uanna thought of my appearance before.
But that was when I had slightly fewer secrets to keep.
When I move into the small parlor just off the foyer, Uanna stands in the center of the space I use as a receiving room, her white-blonde hair hanging in a smooth curtain down her back, her pale blue eyes taking in every detail of the room as if cataloging changes since her last visit. She wears her usual Ice Court finery—layers of white and silver silk that make her look like she’s been carved from the snow itself.
“Ivrael.” She moves toward me, one hand extended. “It’s been far too long.”
I take her fingers in mine and bow over them, brushing my lips across her knuckles in the proper greeting between nobles. Her eyes narrow at the formality—the last time she visited, I greeted her with considerably more enthusiasm.
“Lady Uanna. This is...unexpected.” I straighten and step back, maintaining a careful distance.
Her lips curve into a practiced smile. “I heard the most interesting news from Prince Jonyk. He’s planning to stay here on his way back from the firelord parlay.” She pauses, tilting her head. “I was hurt you hadn’t contacted me.”
I should have known Jonyk would find a way to complicate matters further.
“The prince’s visit was recently arranged.” It’s not a lie, since the baron hadn’t bothered to relay the message until yesterday. “I’ve only just informed my staff this morning.”
“Still.” Uanna steps closer, trailing one finger down my chest. “We used to share everything.”
The scent of ice roses—her signature perfume—surrounds me, and for a moment I remember why I once found her intriguing. But that was before everything changed.
Before Lara.
The door leading to the hallway off the foyer swings open, and Lara herself enters, carrying a feather duster. She freezes when she sees us, her eyes going wide.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize?—”
“It’s fine,” I say, my voice rougher than intended. “Continue with your duties.”
Uanna’s head snaps around at my tone, her gaze fixed on Lara like a predator scenting prey. “What’s this?” She examines Lara from head to toe. “A human servant? How exceedingly quaint.”
Lara’s jaw tightens, but she drops into a clumsy curtsy before turning and rushing back out the door. I fight to keep my gaze from following her.
I fail.
“Interesting.” Uanna’s voice has gone sharp as an icicle. “I don’t recall you having such an appreciation for the help before.”
“I appreciate all my servants’ hard work.” The words come out clipped and cold.
“Do you?” Her eyes narrow further. “I suppose that explains why you haven’t invited me to visit in so long. You’ve been busy appreciating your servants.”
“Lady Uanna.” I inject every bit of aristocratic ice I can muster into my tone. “You are, of course, welcome to stay until the prince arrives. Khrint will show you to the guest suite in the east wing.”
She goes still. “The east wing? But I always stay in the green room. Next to your chambers.”
“The green room needs repair.” Another lie, but one she can’t easily disprove. I gesture for her to precede me out the door. She goes, but not happily .
“I see.” Her lips press into a thin line. “How unfortunate. I had so looked forward to resuming our previous arrangements.”
As we step out into the foyer toward the grand staircase, a door closes above us, and I glance up to see Lara now standing at the top of the stairs, a stack of linens in one hand, the other gripping the banister so hard her knuckles have gone white. She’s clearly heard Uanna’s last comment.
Something hot roars through my blood. I want to go to her, to explain that Uanna means nothing, that she never truly did. Instead, I force myself to look away.
“Previous arrangements have a way of changing.” I gesture for Khrint to approach from where he’s stationed himself nearby. “Please show Lady Uanna to her rooms.”
“Of course.” Uanna’s voice has gone glacial. “I wouldn’t want to presume upon our friendship.”
I ignore her statement, though the dig about friendship does give me a twinge. After all, we were friends, long before we were lovers. “Shall I have refreshments sent to your rooms?”
“Don’t trouble yourself.” Uanna’s tone drips with disdain. “I wouldn’t want to distract you from your duties.”
She follows Khrint up the stairs, her skirts swishing against each step like angry whispers. But then she pauses as she passes Lara, who has started back down the stairs. “Do be careful with those linens, girl. They’re worth more than you are.”
Lara’s face flushes red, but she says nothing. Her gaze meets mine for a brief moment, and the heat in her eyes nearly undoes me. Is it anger? Jealousy?
I shouldn’t care. I shouldn’t want her to be jealous.
She’s merely a means to an end, a sacrifice I must make to save my world.
I tell myself this even as she moves past me, her steps quick and determined as she disappears down the nearest hallway.
At the top of the stairs, Uanna pauses and looks back down at me.
“I do hope you know what you’re doing, Ivrael.” Her smile is cruel. “Prince Jonyk has such particular views about maintaining appropriate emotional distance from one’s servants. It would be a shame if someone were to mention any impropriety to him.” Her nostrils flare and her eyes glint with an unholy pleasure as she says, “He might insist you give your favorites to him.”
The threat hangs in the air between us. I meet her gaze steadily, letting my power rise until frost crackles along the banister beneath her hand, the threat unspoken but very real. She’s in my domain, and I hold all the power.
After a long moment, Uanna jerks her hand away from the frost-covered rail, her expression somewhere between hurt and angry. “Fine,” she says. “I’ll stay in the east wing.”
I click my heels together as I give her a formal bow. She spins away without another word, following Khrint the rest of the way up the stairs and then down the hall toward the east wing, and I wait until they’re out of sight before allowing my shoulders to slump.
Goddess help me, but I don’t need this complication. Not with Baron Svalkat here. Not with Jonyk on his way. Not with Lara’s sister’s birthday approaching and my plans balanced on a knife’s edge.
And certainly not with the way Lara looked at me just now, her eyes full of fire that makes me want to burn everything to the ground—my plans, my duty, my entire frozen world.
For her.
I drag a hand down my face and turn toward my study. I need a drink.
And I need to figure out how to keep Uanna from discovering exactly what I have planned for the Evans sisters.
Because if she does—if anyone in the Ice Court does—everything I’ve worked for will crumble.
D inner several quintclicks later is pure torture. Uanna sits to my right, Svalkat to my left, and I find myself wishing I could freeze them both solid and be done with it.
“Tell me, Baron,” Uanna says, lifting a delicate forkful of the frosted fowl to her lips, “how are things progressing with your petition to Prince Jonyk regarding the southern ice fields?” Her tone drips with false sweetness.
Svalkat’s nostrils flare. “Quite well, actually. His Highness was most receptive to my suggestions for expanding the mining operations.”
“Oh?” Uanna’s eyebrows rise. “That’s not what I heard. In fact, when I spoke with him just last ten-day, he mentioned concerns about your…” She pauses and pats her lips with a napkin. “Management style.”
I take a long drink of wine, wondering if it’s too early to call an end to this farce of a meal. Through the kitchen door, I catch a glimpse of Lara handing platters to the footmen as they bring in the next course. Even that brief sight of her sends sparks coursing through my veins.
“I wasn’t aware you spent so much time with His Highness,” Svalkat says, his voice edged. “Tell me, does Lady Qarine know how often you visit the prince’s private chambers?”
Uanna’s cheeks flush pale blue with anger. “I serve as Lady Qarine’s confidante. Unlike some, I don’t need to scheme my way into the prince’s presence.”
“Enough.” I slam my goblet down harder than intended. Wine sloshes over the rim, staining the white tablecloth. “I have no interest in court politics tonight.”
“Of course not, darling.” Uanna places her hand on my arm. “You must be so tired of it all, stuck out here in this wilderness.” Her fingers trail up to my shoulder. “I worry about you, you know. All alone...”
I shake off her touch. “I’m hardly alone. I have an entire household.”
“Yes.” Her gaze cuts toward the door into the kitchen. “So I’ve noticed.”
“Speaking of households,” Svalkat interjects, clearly delighted by the tension between us, “I heard the most fascinating rumor about your new acquisitions, Ivrael.”
My jaw clenches. “Did you?”
“Oh?” Uanna leans forward. “Do tell, Baron.”
“I don’t believe I will.” Svalkat smirks. “His Lordship seems rather protective of his servants’ privacy.”
“How considerate of you.” I don’t bother hiding the menace in my tone. “Though I wonder what Prince Jonyk would think of your methods for gathering information about his nobles.”
Svalkat’s smirk falters. Good. Let him wonder how much I know about his spying. In truth, I know very little. But my shot in the dark seems to have hit a target, nonetheless.
“You’ve changed, darling.” Uanna’s voice goes soft. “You never used to be so harsh.”
I turn to her, letting my eyes go cold. “Perhaps I’ve simply grown tired of games.”
“Games?” She draws back as if struck. “Is that what you think our relationship was?”
“Wasn’t it?”
The kitchen door swings open again, and more footmen enter with dessert. Lara doesn’t look at me, hasn’t looked at me all day, not since Uanna arrived.
“Well.” Svalkat pushes back from the table, his chair scraping against the floor. “On that note, I do believe I’ll retire for the evening. You two clearly have some matters to discuss.”
I start to protest, but he’s already rising. The wine has dulled my usual sharp reflexes, leaving me a heartbeat too slow to stop him.
“Don’t get up,” he says with a smug smile. “Lady Uanna, always a pleasure. Ivrael...” He pauses. “Do try not to freeze anything important.”
The moment he’s gone, Uanna turns to me. In the candlelight, her pale hair shimmers like fresh snow, and for a moment I’m transported back to that first festival where we danced until dawn. Back when her smiles held charm instead of calculation, when ambition hadn’t yet frozen her heart.
“What do you want from me, Ivrael?” Her voice carries echoes of those earlier days, when she would whisper the same question against my skin in the dark.
“I want you to leave.” But even as I say it, the wine makes me remember how we once plotted together, sharing secrets and dreams in my private chambers. Before everything became about power and position.
“No.” She stands and moves behind my chair, her hands sliding onto my shoulders. Her touch is familiar—too familiar. She knows exactly where to press to ease the tension I carry. “What do you really want?”
When she leans down to brush her lips against my neck, I know I should stop her. But the wine has stripped away my careful walls, leaving me raw and aching for something I can’t even name. I remember how easy it once was between us, before we learned to use intimacy as a weapon.
She moves around the chair to face me, settling onto my lap with practiced grace. Her weight is different from what I crave—lighter, colder—but still achingly familiar.
“Remember how good we once were together?” she whispers against my mouth. The scent of ice roses surrounds me, bringing with it memories of stolen kisses in frozen gardens, of laughter that didn’t hide daggers.
When she kisses me, something savage and wounded rises in my chest. I thread my fingers through the back of her hair, wrap the strands around my fingers, and wrench her head back. Part of me wants to hurt her like she hurt me, that first time she chose advancement over whatever fragile thing had been growing between us.
Uanna moans, and I snarl at her, leaning in close to hiss, “Is this it? Is this what you want?”
“Yes,” she whispers, and I pull her up to my mouth, my lips bruising against hers. The kiss is punishing, with nothing of warmth or kindness—nothing like the sweet kisses we once shared. But there’s history here, and understanding. Uanna knows what I am, what I’ve done.
Perhaps that’s its own kind of comfort.
She responds with equal ferocity, and for a moment, I think that if I can’t have what I want, at least I can have this echo of simpler times. This ghost of what we once meant to each other, before court politics and personal ambition tore us apart.
The crash of breaking porcelain shatters the moment.
Lara stands in the doorway, a smashed serving bowl lying in pieces at her feet. Her eyes are wide, and something in my chest cracks at the look on her face. Because unlike Uanna, she still has the capacity to believe in something better than court games and power plays.
To be hurt by betrayal.
“I’m sorry,” she stammers. “I thought... I’ll clean this up.”
I push Uanna away and start to rise, to go to Lara, to explain... what? That I’m drunk? That every time I close my eyes, I see her face? That she makes me want to be better than what this court has made me, better than what Uanna and I have become?
Uanna’s triumphant smile stops me. If I show any concern for Lara now, Uanna will never let it go. She’ll make Lara’s life hell—or worse, make sure Prince Jonyk takes Lara for himself, to be used and destroyed.
That will demolish my plans as surely as if I sent Lara back to Earth now, so I force myself to stay seated.
Because that’s who Uanna and I are now—people who use love as a weapon, who sacrifice innocence for advantage.
The aftertaste of wine turns bitter in my mouth as I watch Lara kneel to gather the broken pieces. Like everything else beautiful in my life, she too must be sacrificed for the greater good.
And it means becoming the monster Uanna and I have trained each other to be.
“Do be careful,” Uanna calls out. “We wouldn’t want you to cut yourself.”
Lara’s hands shake as she works, but her voice is steady. “Thank you for your concern.”
Uanna’s nostrils flare at the lack of courtesy title, but she doesn’t mention it.
Lara backs out of the room without looking at either of us, and it takes everything in me not to follow her.
Uanna slides back onto my lap. “Now, where were we?”
This time when she moves to kiss me, I grab her arms and set her on her feet, away from me. “We were nowhere. And we’re done. ”
“Ivrael—”
“No.” I stand, my chair scraping against the floor as I push it away from me..
Her laugh rings out, sharp and cruel. “You might want to keep those passions in check, darling. After all, what would people say if they knew the Duke of Starfrost Manor preferred a human servant to a proper Icecaix noblewoman?”
I pause at the door, ice crackling along my fingertips where they grip the frame. “They might say the same things they say about a lady who trades herself for political influence.”
Her indrawn breath is all the confirmation I need that my barb struck home.
As I move away from the dining room, I remind myself that I have to maintain appearances. I am a duke of the Ice Court. I have responsibilities, duties, plans that cannot be derailed by my attraction to a human girl who will be dead before the year is out.
But goddess help me, all I want to do is find Lara and kiss away every hurt she’s ever felt. Kiss away that expression I’d seen on her face.
Instead, I make my way to my sitting room and pour myself another drink.
I drain the glass in one swallow and pour another.
Perhaps if I drink enough, I can forget the way she returned my kiss tonight. Forget the way she looked at me tonight. Forget that in a ten-click, I’ll have to sacrifice her to save my world.
Forget that I’m starting to wonder if any world is worth her life.
But then my Caixlight sputters and dims, plunging the room into darkness. I curse, focusing on maintaining the simple illumination spell that should require no conscious thought at all.
The light flares back reluctantly, casting weak blue shadows across the room, seeming to mock my weakness. Time was I could fill a light like that with enough power to light the entire manor. Now I can barely manage one room. I reach for another Caixlight, trying to brighten the room enough to continue working. Instead, the first light gutters out entirely.
“Damn it all.” I slam my palm against the desk, frost crackling out from the impact. But even that instinctive display of power is weak, the ice thin and already melting.
I could call for candles, as some of the other nobles have begun doing. But that would mean admitting defeat. Accepting our decline.
Instead, I close my eyes and gather what power remains accessible to me. When I open them again, three steady Caixlights hover overhead.
The effort leaves me dizzy, my vision swimming. I grip the edge of the desk until the sensation passes.
I drop down into my chair, the phantom taste of Uanna’s lips souring in my mouth. But it’s not her kiss that haunts me—it’s Lara’s expression when she saw us. That flash of pain in her eyes before she dropped the serving bowl.
You have no right to care , I tell myself harshly. She was never meant to be anything but a means to an end. A sacrifice for the greater good.
And yet the memory of her standing there, shards of porcelain at her feet, sends an ache through my chest that has nothing to do with failing magic.
“Fool,” I mutter, pouring yet another drink. My hand trembles slightly, and I tell myself it’s from maintaining the Caixlights.
I need her compliant for what’s to come. Need her to trust me enough to lead me to her sister. If she turns against me now...
But that’s not what truly terrifies me. No, what sends a chill through my veins that ice could never match is the realization that I wanted to go after her. Wanted to explain that the kiss meant nothing, that Uanna is merely a tool in my greater plan.
That she—Lara—is the only one who matters to me.
I slam my glass down onto the desk. This is precisely why I’ve kept my distance all these months. Why I’ve forced myself to treat her as nothing more than a servant. Because the moment I let myself care is the moment everything falls apart.
She has to die. There is no other way to save my world, to restore our failing magic. I’ve known this since I first discovered her bloodline, first realized what she and her sister truly are .
So why does the thought of her pain matter more to me than the fate of my entire realm?
“It doesn’t,” I say aloud, as if speaking the words might make them true. “She doesn’t.”
But the lies taste bitter on my tongue, and the Caixlights flicker as if in accusation. I close my eyes, fighting for control—over my magic, over my emotions, over this dangerous weakness growing in my chest.
When I open them again, my reflection stares back at me from the darkened window. I barely recognize the man I see there.
You’re running out of time , I remind myself.
Soon I’ll have both sisters. Soon none of this will matter.
But tonight, with my magic failing and my certainties crumbling, I can no longer deny the truth: Lara Evans may destroy everything I’ve worked for.
Not because of who she is or what power may run in her veins. But because of how she makes me feel.
And that terrifies me more than any prophecy or failing magic ever could.
I’ve spent cycles preparing to sacrifice her. Now time is running out. For my magic, for my world, for her. Soon I’ll have to choose— Lara’s life, or every life in my frozen realm.
I thought saving my world would be worth any price. Now, as my magic fades, I realize I never calculated the true cost. The ancient texts never mentioned this—that saving a world might require destroying your own heart.
I can watch my world melt away or watch her die. Neither option leaves me whole.
And I’m beginning to suspect I’ve already chosen wrong.