Page 48 of The Alien's Cruel Starfrost Domain

Fintan will be sad for a little while, but I see all the ways Menai, the girl who attends the duke’s sheep, watches him. They’ll make a good pair once he figures it out.

We don’t stay at the table long. There’s always more work to be done. And since the housemaids don’t do any actual cleaning, it falls to the rest of us to do the scrubbing. I trudge up the back stairs to the ballroom, feather duster, scrub brush, and bucket in hand.

I might be planning to be gone by the next time Duke Ivrael holds a party, but in the meantime, I can’t do anything to give that away.

The ballroom has been closed up since the last party—one that took place just before my arrival—so I’ve seen it only a couple of times. Once when Adefina gave me the tour of the house to show me where everything was, and another time when a houseguest of the duke’s had drunkenly reeled through the room, shattering one of themirrors. I’d been sent then to sweep up the glass so the glaziers could restore it.

The tall double doors are designed to be thrown wide, opening an entire wall of the room to the antechamber outside. Not today, though. I open the one on the right a tiny bit, just wide enough for me and my bucket, and slip through it into the ballroom. As ever, I pause inside to admire the space.

The land of the Icecaix might be a frozen hell, but it’s a beautiful frozen hell.

And Starfrost Manor is no exception. Even now, with only a faint light filtering through the curtains currently covering the doors leading to the veranda—without light, globes, electricity, candles, or anything to illuminate the space—it takes my breath away.

The rest of the manor is painted a stark white with pale blue accents. But the ballroom is different. Its walls are still pure white, but the ornate, wing-like ornaments on the wallpaper are painted a shiny metallic silver. The ceiling is a midnight blue studded with silver and white stars. Tilting my head back in the middle of the room to stare up at it, I can almost imagine I’m actually outside.

When the stars in the ceiling actually begin to rotate, light shining through the stars and glinting off the silver of the walls, I jump, startled.

“I thought you might enjoy seeing how it worked.”

Duke Ivrael steps out of the shadows in the far corner of the ballroom, and I spin around to gape. This is the first time Ivrael has sought me out while we’re inside Starfrost Manor.

“I didn’t see you there,” I manage to wheeze out past equal parts surprise and anger.

I clench my teeth, dropping my gaze to the floor, and console myself with the thought that I only have to play the part of a servant—of someone whose spirit has been broken, my will to escape sapped away—for a few more hours.

Still, I wish I had a weapon. If I’d only known to bring a kitchen knife, I couldhave ended this now.

When I glance up again, Ivrael is already gone.

And I have to admit to myself that I wouldn’t have been able to use a knife even if I’d had one.

CHAPTER 15

IVRAEL

I’ve been aware from the beginning that Lara is counting down the days to her sister’s birthday. What I don’t know is what she plans to do with that information, though the expression behind her eyes when I encounter her in the ballroom suggests she would as soon gut me as anything else.

But perhaps someone else knows more now that the day is growing closer.

After I exit the ballroom, I head downstairs, then wait for the tiny raya—Kila, I believe?—to leave the kitchen, presumably headed out to catch up with Lara on her daily rounds. Finally, I slip inside to check in with Adefina.

“She’s still keeping track of time,” my cook announces, nodding toward the corner where Lara has written on the wall.

“But you haven’t told her I know that?”

“Of course not. You said to leave her be, so I have.” Adefina scratches her nose, then rests her hands on her broad hips, elbows akimbo as she narrows her gaze and taps one foot. “I still can’t say I think she’s any less angry than she was that first night.”

I huff out an amused breath. “I imagine not. But it won’t be much longer now.”

She crosses her arms over her chest. “And will you ever be telling me the why of what you’re doing?” She continues speaking before I have a chance to answer. “As far as I can tell, you’ve done nothing but antagonize and torment the child.”

That sends an arrow of regret straight through my gut, and I wince.

“I can see how you feel about the girl,” Adefina says. I go still for a brief moment, testing the hard block of ice I’ve used to encase my heart, checking for any fault lines or jagged edges, places where feelings might actually leak through.

Luckily, there are none.

Part of me wants to explain to the cook, tell her why what I’m doing is necessary. But the more people who know what I’m doing, the more likely my plan is to fail.

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