Page 18 of The Alien's Cruel Starfrost Domain

He held my gaze for what seemed like an eternity before he turned back to Adefina. “Let me know if she continues to refuse to do her job, and I will send someone to bring her to my chambers.”

“Of course, Your Lordship,” Adefina said, bobbing a curtsy.

Without another word, he strode out of the room, taking what felt like all the air with him.

I blew out a breath, and my knees gave way. I collapsed to the hearth, feeling faint.

Adefina moved back to her breakfast preparation, giving me a few moments to compose myself before she finally said, “Well? You heard His Lordship. Where would you prefer to do your service—here or in his bed?”

“He didn’t really mean that,” I protested. I thought I sounded sure enough—until I squeaked out, “Did he?”

Adefina snorted. “Oh, I believe he most certainly did.”

It wasn’t like I hadn’t considered running—I’d thought of little else since I had arrived. But it was that threat of being forced into the Duke’s bed that finally spurred me into action in a way nothing else had.

That was when I began trying to find a way out of this cruel alien’s domain. When I began quizzing Adefina about where Ivrael kept his spaceship.

When I began seriously plotting my escape.

This morning, almost a year after the duke threatened to take me to his bed, I wait until the fire is roaring and I’m warmer before I take the ash bucket out to empty it. Then I pull out a perfectly blackened piece of charcoal and slide my hand around to the side of the fireplace, where I tuck the coal into the tiny alcove created by the bricks, hiding it for later.

I pull on the worn cloak and scratchy woolen gloves Adefina scrounged up for me when I arrived. Inevitably, I wish I could stay by the fireplace a little longer, but I never can. I have work to do.

With a final longing glance at the hearth, I head out to deal with the rest of my duties for the day.

The duke’s manor is like a country house—one of the British mansions in those historical movies. Or the sexy television shows where ladies wear pale dresses and sit around drinking tea while they worry about who they’re going to marry, and then have lots of sex once they’ve picked their guy.

To be fair, it seems like that’s what life is like for the Icecaix lords and ladies too. Except for the planning to marry part, of course. That doesn’t seem to be necessary. Here, they just skip to the lots of sex part.

Those movies and television shows rarely depict what it takes to keep a place like that running, how much work the servants have to do. Of course, it’s probably not quite as difficult here as it was back in the old days on Earth. After all, the Caix have magic, so those servants can often conjure up what they need. They can create globes of light, so who needs electricity, right? Especially since heat isn’t really an issue for the Ice Court Caix.

However, unlike the rest of the Ice Court, Ivrael likes his food cooked. And I like not freezing to death even more, so firewood has to be chopped and split and stacked and brought in.

Every. Single. Day.

Thismorning, as usual, I make my way outside and down to the shed where the firewood is kept, pausing to dump the ashes into the compost box. Fintan is out there, doing the chopping.

The Icecaix don’t do their own work—not the heavy stuff, anyway. It’s considered an honor or something to be an “upstairs servant,” like the housemaids and footmen. The rest of the positions, though, no Icecaix would accept.

The Ice Court doesn’t have much in the way of scruples or morals, so when they need servants, they often buy or kidnap them, sometimes by traveling to other planets, sometimes from the Star Court on their own planet.

That’s how Fintan got here. I figured it out for the first time when Adefina called him an off-worlder once, which let me know he’s from another planet, unlike Adefina, who’s pure Starcaix.

Fintan is tall, muscular, basically humanoid, but with horns growing out of the sides of his head like a bull and a fine down of brown fur across his body. After I got up the nerve to ask, he told me he’s from a planet the Caix sometimes trade with, and even told me the name of his home, but I could never pronounce it.

When I approach, he smiles sweetly and says, “I’ve got a new cord stacked for you, Miss Lara.”

I thank him, for two reasons. First of all, he’s a nice guy. He’s always offering to carry firewood inside for me and making sure I’m not too cold. The second reason, though, is more mercenary.

If I’m going to get out of here and save my sister before she turns eighteen and gets sold to the duke, I’m going to need allies.

I hope Fintan is willing to help me when the time comes. I already know I can’t escape through the forest, so I’ve been working on a new plan for the last couple of weeks, and it’s almost time to put it into action.

He helps me load wood into the leather sling I use to carry it, and I heft it up by the handles. When I turn to head back inside, movement catches my attention out of the corner of my eye.

Ivrael, striding across the fields behind the manor, raising his hand to call a hunting bird—some kindof bird of prey like hawks I’ve seen on Earth—back to the glove he wears. It glides gracefully through the sky and lands on his wrist. He reaches up and strokes its head, and it preens beneath his touch.

Sunlight sparkles on the snow crystals around the duke, shining on the long, muscular lines of his body. The sight sends heat swirling through me, and at that moment, he and his bird both turn their heads toward me as if they have felt my attention land on them.

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