Page 112 of The Alien's Cruel Starfrost Domain

On the way back around the side of the house, I pass the figure of a woman huddled on the ground, knees drawn up to her chest, arms wrapped around her legs, forehead resting on her hands. It takes me a moment to realize it’s Ramira. Strands of hair straggle out of her usually perfectly coiffed bun. Along the line where her collar meets the back of her neck is a row of tiny red welts left over from Kiladusting her. Hard to believe that was such a short time ago—it feels like ages.

I drop down to my haunches beside her. I don’t exactly know what to say, but for the first time since the morning she swung into the kitchen and snarled at me on my second day here, I actually feel sympathy for her. Instead of speaking, I rest my hand gently against the middle of her back—and she actually leans into my touch.

“I can’t find Oriana.” Her voice is scratchy and hoarse with smoke, exhaustion, and probably grief. “No one has seen her. I don’t know what happened.”

I think of my last sight of the housemaid, engulfed in the dragon’s flames, and shudder. I should probably tell Ramira what I know—that Oriana is not coming back, that there’s probably nothing left to be found—but I can’t bring myself to say the words aloud.

Kila’s shiver against my collarbone reminds me why I was headed inside in the first place, so I stand to leave, still not knowing what to say but glad that I didn’t make things worse for Ramira. After months of Ramira and Oriana taunting me, I’d expect to relish the opportunity to dig the knife in. But I don’t. I can’t stand the idea of making Ramira’s grief worse.

I’m not sure where that puts me on the villain-to-heroine continuum. But I am certain, at least for a moment, of Ivrael’s position on that scale.

He’s pure villain, and I cannot allow whatever evil plans he’s hatching to come to fruition.

I am going to do everything I can to get him to take me with him when he heads out to the Trasqo Market to buy Izzy, and then I’m going to take my sister and run.

By that afternoon, the bodies and ashes have all been removed, and word has gone around among the servants that Duke Ivrael has put a halt to all but the most basic of duties for the rest of the day. No one will be expected to workif it can be avoided.

Convincing Ivrael to take me with him is easier than I anticipated.

All day, I keep an eye out, knowing I need to catch him before he leaves. I even have Fintan watching the courtyard for me, prepared to let me know when Ivrael exits the house. So I’m ready when Fintan sticks his head into the kitchen and says, “His Grace has called for his travel gear.”

I meet Ivrael in the courtyard. The snow there is churned up, from both the many feet that walked across it this morning and the bucket brigade pulling pails of snow out of the courtyard to dump on the fire.

Planting myself directly in front of Ivrael, I cross my arms. “You’re going to The Trasqo Market, aren’t you? To get my sister? I’m going with you.”

“No.”

It was the answer I had expected. “You’ll need me if you want her to come quietly.”

“Or you’ll use the chance to escape.”

“Not if you have my sister.”

The duke’s mouth twists thoughtfully, and he chews on his lip as he considers my request. “Your raya friend stays behind as collateral,” he finally says. “If you don’t come back, I’ll have her tossed out into the snow, and she’ll die.”

I open my mouth to protest, but instantly snap it closed, realizing this is the only way I’m going with him and promising myself I’ll find some way around it. “Agreed.”

He stares deeply into my eyes, and those golden sparks begin to appear in his irises as if they’re floating to the surface from somewhere deep inside him. They twirl around and around, and I am mesmerized by them.

Ivrael stands so close to me that his breath fans my hair as he speaks.

“Do you swear you won’t attempt to leave my…service?” His voice is soft, intimate—not quite a whisper, but nothing anyone else around us would be able to hear. The pause he inserts before the last word of the question turns my thighs to jelly. And that pisses me off.

But I know the answer he’s looking for, and I’m willing to do orsay anything at all if it’ll help me warn Izzy away from him. So I tell him what he wants to hear. “I swear.”

Ivrael searches my gaze for a few more moments, and I do my best to appear open, guileless. Finally, he nods as if satisfied and drags his gaze away from me.

I have to fight myself not to heave an audible sigh of relief. I will lie my ass off to get what I want. I give a sharp nod like I’m happy with the decision to leave Kila behind, and then I turn to march back to the kitchen.

I don’t really own anything except the clothes I was wearing when I got here, the scratchy wool clothes I’ll be leaving behind, and the cloaks Adefina created for me. So instead of packing, I use the time to tell Adefina what is happening.

But I still don’t tell her about Ivrael’s betrayal of his own people, the way he sacrificed them to the firelord, offering them up to be burned alive.

The tiny, niggling idea that I might be doing the same thing to Kila eats at me.

“Promise you’ll take care of her,” I say to Adefina for at least the fifteenth time.

“I promise.”

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