Chapter 21
CHAPTER 21
IVRAEL
T he prince is set to arrive tomorrow, and my manor hums with frantic energy as servants scurry through the halls, preparing for Prince Jonyk’s arrival. I stand at my study window, watching the controlled chaos in the courtyard below while calculating risks and possibilities in my mind.
Everything must appear perfect. The illusion of loyalty must hold.
Right up until the precise moment it shatters.
My fingers drum against the glass, frost spreading from each point of contact. The original plan had been to wait—to have both Evans sisters in my possession before moving against Jonyk.
The crown’s power would make claiming the throne simpler, cleaner.
But opportunities like this don’t come often. A chance to eliminate Jonyk on my own ground, where I control every variable.
I press my palm flat against the window, watching the frost patterns spiral outward, weighing consequences, examining angles, searching for flaws in this accelerated timeline.
The soft scratch of claws on stone draws my attention to the courtyard, where one of Baron Svalkat’s ice leopard constructs prowls past, the baron right behind it. Its movements are fluid, precise. The baron may be a preening fool, but his magic is undeniably strong.
However, it took him three attempts to create this one.
I can feel the weakness in my own power, the way maintaining even simple spells requires more effort each day. Soon the baron’s perfectly crafted beasts will be beyond his ability to control. Soon all our magic will fade to nothing unless I act.
Unless I’m willing to become the monster Lara, at least, already believes me to be.
A knock at my study door interrupts my brooding. “Enter.”
Khrint steps inside, his expression carefully neutral. “The first members of Prince Jonyk’s advance guard have arrived, Your Lordship. They’re inspecting the manor’s defenses.”
Of course they are. Jonyk’s paranoia serves him well, usually. “Ensure they have full access to everything they wish to see.” I turn from the window. “Especially the routes they believe I don’t want them to find.”
My valet’s lips twitch. He understands the game—let them discover just enough “secrets” to satisfy their suspicions while keeping the true paths hidden. “Very good, Your Lordship. Shall I have them shown the passage behind the old dungeon?”
“The one that leads to nowhere? Yes, perfect.” I move to my desk and pull out a fresh sheet of paper. “And make sure they find the ‘hidden’ guardpost in the east wing. They’ll sleep better thinking they’ve outsmarted me.”
As Khrint bows and withdraws, I begin composing my message to Vazor, dropping our coded messages into a short missive about Starfrost’s firewater shipment from the mountains this season and the need to increase it because of tomorrow night’s ball.
I read it over, ensuring the meaning is clear while remaining deniable. Vazor will understand that he and Oesterin should be ready to move tomorrow night. I fold it over, seal it with wax, and address it.
The scratch of my pen nearly masks the whisper of silk in the hallway. I tug on the bellpull to bring the underbutler, then continue writing as if I haven’t noticed, counting footsteps. Three... two... one...
“Tenyt,” I call out, just as Lady Uanna’s shadow falls across my threshold. The young underbutler materializes from where he’d been waiting in the servant’s passage. “Take this to our usual messenger. No delays.”
“Of course, Your Lordship.” He accepts the sealed letter with a bow, turning to find Uanna blocking his path.
“My lady.” His bow to her is precisely calculated—deep enough to show respect, shallow enough to remind her he serves me, not her, and I’m delighted to see how far he’s come in less than a cycle under Khrint’s tutelage.
“What’s this?” Uanna glides into my study uninvited, her pale eyes sharp. “Secret messages on the eve of our prince’s arrival? How intriguing.”
“Hold a moment, Tenyt.” I don’t bother looking up from the ledger I’ve opened, but I hear his footsteps pause. “Hardly secret, Uanna. Simply boring estate business that cannot wait, even for such an auspicious occasion.”
“Estate business.” She laughs, the sound harsh. “Is that what we’re calling it?”
Now I do look up, letting frost creep into my voice. “Did you need something, Lady Uanna? I’m rather busy ensuring everything is perfect for His Highness’s arrival.”
She drifts closer, close enough that her perfume wraps around me—and I find the scent more nauseating than alluring. “Oh, I’m sure you are.” Her finger traces the edge of my desk. “Though I wonder what our prince would think of your definition of perfect .”
“I imagine he’ll be pleased.” I hold her gaze. “I’ve spared no expense to ensure this evening goes exactly as it should.”
The threat in my tone makes her pause. She studies me for a long moment, and I see calculation replace the flirtation in her eyes. Good. Let her wonder. Let her try to determine which side will prove most advantageous.
“I’m sure it will be an evening to remember,” she finally says. Her gaze flickers to Tenyt, still waiting by the door. “Though perhaps I should let you return to your... estate business.”
I incline my head. “Perhaps you should.”
She withdraws with perfect grace, the rustle of her skirts fading down the hallway. I wait until I’m certain she’s gone before addressing Tenyt. “Take the south passage. Avoid being seen by anyone not in my service.”
“Yes, Your Lordship.” He hesitates. “And if I am seen?”
“Then ensure whoever sees you doesn’t live to report it.”
His eyes widen slightly, but he nods. Good man. He’ll go far in my service, assuming we all survive the next few days.
Now that my message to Vazor is safely on its way, I force myself to make the rounds through Starfrost Manor. Everything must appear normal—more than normal. Perfect. Any deviation from the expected might alert Jonyk’s people that something is amiss.
The ballroom gleams with ice and silver, blue-white Caixlights floating near the ceiling like captured stars. Ramira directs a team of servants arranging tables along the walls, each surface to be laden with delicacies for our Icecaix guests.
“Everything appears to be in order,” I say to the housemaid, who preens at the praise. “Though perhaps more light near the entrance? We wouldn’t want our guests stumbling in the darkness.”
As if any Icecaix would be so graceless. But it’s the sort of thing a proper host would notice, would comment upon. Another piece in this elaborate performance.
I’m almost to the door when Baron Svalkat’s voice drifts in from the hallway. “My, my. What have we here?”
My hand freezes on the doorframe. Through the gap, I see Svalkat has cornered Lara as she attempts to carry a tray of wine glasses to the ballroom. His gaze roves over her in a way that makes frost crackle beneath my fingers.
“Pardon me, sir.” Lara’s voice is carefully neutral as she tries to step around him. “I need to deliver these.”
He shifts to block her path. “No need to hurry.” His tongue flicks out. “I’ve been watching you, you know. Such an interesting addition to the household.”
I should walk away. Should let this play out naturally. Any intervention will raise questions I can’t afford right now. But my feet remain rooted in place as Svalkat leans closer to Lara.
“I wonder,” he muses, reaching out to toy with a loose strand of her hair, “what our dear duke sees in you. Perhaps I should investigate myself.”
The wine glasses on Lara’s tray rattle as she jerks away from his touch. “Don’t.”
“Oh, come now.” He crowds her against the wall, his shadow engulfing her smaller frame. “Surely you’ve learned to be accommodating in your position. After all, that’s what pets are for, isn’t it?”
Ice crawls up the door frame beneath my hand. I force myself to breathe slowly, to maintain control.
But when Svalkat’s hand drifts toward Lara’s face, something in me snaps.
“Baron.” My voice cuts through the air between us. “I believe Prince Jonyk’s advance guard wished to speak with you about security arrangements.”
Svalkat turns, his expression so falsely innocent it makes my jaw ache. “Did they? How fascinating.” His hand drops away from Lara, but he doesn’t step back. “Though surely it can wait a few moments while I become better acquainted with your charming servant.”
“It cannot.” Frost spreads across the floor from my feet, creeping toward him in delicate spirals. “Unless you wish me to inform His Highness that his safety is less important than your diversions?”
Now he does step back, though his smile remains fixed. “Of course not, Your Lordship. I merely thought?—”
“Don’t.” The temperature in the hallway plummets. “Don’t think. Don’t touch. Don’t even look in her direction again.” Each word emerges accompanied by a puff of frozen breath. “Am I clear?”
Something ugly flashes in his eyes, there and gone too quickly to name. “Perfectly clear.” He sketches a bow that manages to be both precise and mocking.
I let my power flare, just enough to remind him exactly whose domain he stands in. “The advance guard, Baron Svalkat. Now.”
He withdraws, though not before casting one last lingering look at Lara. I wait until his footsteps fade before turning to her. “Are you all right?”
She nods jerkily, though her hands still tremble where they grip the tray. “I’m fine. I should get these to the ballroom.”
“Lara.” Her name emerges softer than intended, and I see her shoulders tense. “If he bothers you again?—”
“I’ll handle it.” She finally meets my gaze, and something in her eyes makes my chest ache. “Unless that would get me hanged for disloyalty?”
Before I can respond, she slips past me into the ballroom, leaving me alone with the lingering chill of my anger and the bitter taste of her contempt.
I should not have intervened. Should not have revealed even that much regard for her welfare. Svalkat will report it to Jonyk, adding another complication to an already precarious situation.
I tell myself it doesn’t matter, since Jonyk will die soon.
And so will Lara.
Still, the thought of Svalkat’s hands on her, his eyes undressing her...
Frost crackles across the ceiling as my control slips again, spreading further, crawling across the wall like creeping vines. It spirals and swirls, creating patterns like the ones that decorate the Starfire crown. The crown that will help me reshape everything, once I have both sisters in my possession.
Taking over the kingdom. That is what matters.
But first, Jonyk must die. Here, in my home.
If not at my hand, at least by my order.
I’ve arranged everything too carefully to allow my emotions to run rampant, to ruin everything.
I force the frost back, smoothing ice into stone until no trace remains.
As I turn away, though, I catch a glimpse of Lara moving through the ballroom. Even from here, I swear I sense her power lying dormant in her blood. What will she think when she sees what I’ve set in motion? Will she understand that everything I’ve done, everything I’m about to do, is necessary?
Will she hate me more for the monster I must become to save my world?
It won’t matter , I tell myself with a harsh internal laugh. She’ll be dead soon enough .
I turn away before the sight of her can weaken my resolve further. I have preparations to oversee, plans to finalize. I cannot afford to be distracted by one girl, no matter how she calls something in my blood.
No matter how much I wish things could be different.
Jonyk will arrive, secure in his power, never suspecting that his death approaches on wings of flame.
And I will sacrifice whatever—whoever—I must to achieve my goals.
Even if that means sacrificing my own heart in the process. Sacrificing my own soul.
I straighten my shoulders and continue my rounds, ice spreading and retreating with each step. I am the Duke of Starfrost. I have a role to play.
And the real performance is only beginning.