Chapter 30
CHAPTER 30
LARA
A fter fleeing the firelord’s destruction, Kila and I burst into the kitchen, our words tumbling over each other as we try to explain to Adefina what happened. My hands shake as I clutch the burned remnants of my dress, trying to cover myself.
“Child, how are you not burned?” Adefina’s fingers probe at my unmarked skin. She shakes her head and hurries to her quarters, returning with a dress of soft brown wool. “Here, put this on before you catch your death.”
The dress hangs loose around my shoulders and barely reaches my knees—Adefina is both broader and shorter than I am. I must look ridiculous. “Thank you, but...” I eye the basket holding my recently cleaned Earth clothes.
“Go on then,” she says with a smile. “Those strange clothes of yours might serve better.”
The familiar feel of my jeans and sweater settles something inside me, even if they’re worn nearly threadbare. At least in my own clothes, I feel more like myself.
We follow the sounds of shouting to the front courtyard, where servants form a chain passing buckets of water and snow to combat the flames still licking out the windows.
My stomach turns as I watch them fight to save Ivrael’s home. How many times had I dreamed of this place burning? But now, knowing he orchestrated this destruction, watching his people risk their lives to save what he himself set ablaze...
The acrid stench of smoke hangs heavy in the pre-dawn air as I stand in the trampled snow of Starfrost Manor’s courtyard. The scent of smoke mingles with something worse—charred flesh and burning hair. Oriana’s final scream echoes in my memory. She was cruel, yes, but no one deserves to die like that.
I wrap my arms around myself, bile rising in my throat. Every bucket passed hand to hand feels like a betrayal of those who died tonight. Like helping preserve the home of a monster who sacrificed his own people without hesitation.
I turn away, unable to watch anymore.
My hands won’t stop shaking, and I’m not sure if it’s from the cold or the horror of what I witnessed in the ballroom. Every time I close my eyes, I see Oriana’s face melting away in the dragon’s flames.
Movement catches my attention—two figures emerging from a side entrance. Even in the dim light, I recognize Ivrael’s tall form and the blood-red shimmer of Uanna’s gown. They’re speaking in low, intense voices, heads bent close together.
“You orchestrated all of this.” Uanna’s accusation carries clearly in the still morning air.
My heart pounds as I edge closer, ducking behind one of the stone planters that line the courtyard. The urge to confront Ivrael about what happened wars with my need to try to understand why he allowed his own people to be slaughtered.
In the end, curiosity wins out.
Uanna waits a few seconds more before speaking again. “The firelord’s attack wasn’t random at all, was it?”
Ivrael remains silent, but something in his stance makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
“Those were your own people in there!” Uanna’s composure cracks. “Nobles of the Ice Court, servants who’ve been loyal to you for years—and you had them burned alive!”
“Some sacrifices are necessary.” Ivrael’s tone is cold, detached in a way that makes my stomach turn.
“Necessary for what?” Uanna demands. “What could possibly justify this?”
Frost crackles beneath Ivrael’s feet as he turns to face her fully. “I needed to be certain.”
“Certain of what?”
“Of her.”
“The human girl?”
My breath catches as I realize he’s talking about me. The memory of dragon fire washing over me without leaving a mark suddenly takes on new meaning.
Uanna lets out a harsh laugh. “That’s what this was about? You murdered half the court just to test some theory about a servant?”
“She’s far more than a servant.” Ivrael’s voice drops lower, and I have to strain to hear. “I needed to know if she truly carries the blood. A firelord’s flame was the only way to be sure.”
“The blood?” Uanna goes very still. “You can’t mean...”
“Royal blood.” The words drop heavily in the pre-dawn silence. “The ancient bloodline.”
Royal blood? What is he talking about?
“Impossible,” Uanna whispers. “The royal line died out centuries ago.”
“Did it?” There’s something almost triumphant in Ivrael’s tone. “Or did some of them escape to other worlds? To Earth, perhaps?”
My legs give out and I sink to my knees in the snow, mind reeling.
“And you think she...?” Uanna’s voice trails off as understanding dawns. “That’s why you bought her. Why you’ve kept her close all this time.”
“I had to be certain before proceeding with the next phase.” Ivrael starts pacing, his boots crunching in the snow. “The signs were there—her resistance to cold, the way she survived the undead’s touch, how quickly she learned our ways. But I needed proof. ”
“So you arranged for a firelord to attack your own home?” The horror in Uanna’s voice mirrors what I’m feeling. “Just to see if she would survive?”
“No mere human could withstand a firelord’s flame,” Ivrael says. “Only one carrying the old blood could emerge unscathed.”
I press my hands against my mouth to hold back a sob as memories flash through my mind—the searing heat of the dragon’s fire, the way it had parted around me like water breaking against stone. At the time, I’d been too shocked to question it. Now the truth hits me hard, knocking the breath out of me.
“You’re insane,” Uanna breathes out. “If anyone discovers what you’ve done?—”
“No one will discover anything.” Ivrael cuts her off. “The court will blame the firelords for this attack. They’ll never suspect one of their own arranged it.”
I stay frozen in place as Uanna’s sharp, cold laugh rings out.
“You really think you can keep this contained?” She takes a step toward Ivrael. “What do you imagine Prince Jonyk will say when he learns one of his dukes orchestrated the murder of half his court?”
“And who exactly will tell him?” Ivrael’s voice drops to a dangerous whisper. “You?”
“Perhaps I will.” Uanna lifts her chin. “After all, my loyalty has always been to the crown.”
“Has it?” Frost spreads in delicate patterns across the snow from where Ivrael stands. “Then you might want to consider how it will look when the survivors tell His Highness about the lady in red who stood at my side tonight.”
Uanna goes very still. “What are you implying?”
“Everyone who saw you knew exactly what that gown meant—that you’d thrown your lot in with me. That you’d pledged yourself to my cause.” He takes a step closer to her. “The traditional color of blood allegiance. How fitting, given how the night ended.”
“I didn’t know what you were planning,” she protests, but there’s a tremor in her voice now.
“Didn’t you?” Ivrael’s tone is almost gentle. “Then why agree so readily when I asked you to wear it? You’re far too clever not to have understood the symbolism.”
“You’re threatening me.” It’s not a question.
“I’m reminding you that your position at court is precarious.” Another step closer. Ivrael reaches out and brushes his fingers down her cheek. She flinches but doesn’t pull away. “The survivors will remember seeing you by my side.”
“You wouldn’t,” Uanna whispers.
All pretense of gentleness vanishes from his voice. “Try me.”
Uanna takes a stumbling step backward. “You’re mad,” she breathes out. “This plan of yours—it’s insanity. Even if the girl does carry royal blood, even if you manage to get her sister too, you can’t possibly think?—”
“I can and I will.” Ivrael cuts her off again. “The only question is whether you’re clever enough to choose the winning side.”
For a long moment, they stare at each other. Finally, Uanna’s shoulders slump. “What do you want from me?”
“Your silence. Your support. Your continued presence at my side.” He reaches out and catches her chin, tilting her face up to his. “After all, appearances must be maintained.”
“And if I refuse?”
“Then I suppose Prince Jonyk will have to find himself a new favorite.” Ivrael’s smile is cruel. “Though I doubt you’ll enjoy where they send you afterward.”
A shudder runs through Uanna’s whole body. “You truly are a monster.”
“Yes.” Ivrael releases her chin and steps back. “I am. Never forget that.”
He turns away from her, and I catch a glimpse of his face in the growing light. There’s no emotion there at all—no guilt, no regret, nothing human. Just cold calculation and ruthless determination.
In that moment, I realize Uanna is right. The man who bought me at the market, who saved me from the undead, who sometimes showed flashes of warmth beneath his icy exterior—none of that was real. The true Ivrael is this creature of frost and shadow, willing to sacrifice anyone and anything to achieve his goals.
Including me. Including my sister.
I have to stop him. Somehow, I have to find a way to save us both before it’s too late.
But first, I need to understand exactly what he has planned. Why our ages matter so much. What this royal blood means, and why he’s willing to burn down his own world to test it.
And to do that, I’m going to have to confront him directly. The thought settles into my bones like ice, but with it comes a strange sort of clarity. My hands stop shaking as I step out from behind the planter, snow crunching beneath my feet.
The sound draws both their attention. Uanna’s eyes widen, but Ivrael’s expression doesn’t change—as if he’s been expecting this all along. Maybe he has. Maybe this, too, is part of his game.
Well, I’m done playing.
“Tell me about my mother.” The words come out steady, stronger than I feel. When neither of them responds, I take another step forward. “She must have been Caix, right? For me to have this royal blood you’re so interested in? Or was it my father?”
“Lara—” Ivrael begins, but I cut him off.
“Don’t.” Heat floods through me, so intense it makes my skin prickle. “You don’t get to say my name like that. Like you care. Not after what you just did.”
The images flash through my mind again—the firelord’s flames consuming flesh and bone, Oriana’s face melting away, the screams of the dying. My stomach turns, but this time the nausea is burned away by something hotter, fiercer.
“All those people,” I say. “All those deaths. Just to test a theory about my blood?”
“It was necessary.” His voice is still perfectly controlled, perfectly reasonable. That only makes it worse.
“Necessary?” The word tastes like ashes on my tongue. “Like it was necessary to keep me prisoner here for a year? Like it’s necessary to buy my sister too? ”
“You don’t understand?—”
“Then explain it to me!” The shout rips from my throat, raw and jagged. “Explain how any of this is necessary! Explain why our ages matter so much, why you need both of us, why?—”
And suddenly, I am filled with rage. Pure, white-hot rage at everything Ivrael has done. At how he’s manipulated me, used me, planned to use my sister. At how he sacrificed his own people just to test his theories about my blood.
For the first time since he bought me, I see fear in Ivrael’s eyes. Good. He should know what it feels like. He takes a step back, and satisfaction curls through me like smoke.
The rage burns through me like dragonfire, and this time, I welcome it.