Page 50 of The Alien's Cruel Starfrost Domain

Baron Svalkat gives a bark of laughter, despite the subtle insult I’ve handed him by suggesting he can’t control his magical creations. “Neither,” he says as he turns to call up two magical mounts, then pauses to glance back at me. “Still, important to look the part, don’t you think?” He leans toward me as if imparting a confidence, and his rank breath floats across me. “His Highness insists upon full riding attire whenever we go out.”

His gaze roves from the top of my hatless head down to my well worn riding boots, and then flicks back toward his constructs, still lumps of ice and snow in the drive. “It seemed only polite to offer you the same courtesy.”

“Ah, yes, of course,” I say, working to keep any inflection at all out of my voice—a task made even more difficult when I finally glance at the mounts the baron had been conjuring. “I see why you felt the need to carry a crop.”

Svalkat shoots a suspicious glance at me, frowning.

“After all,” I continue, “predators often turn on their creators.”

“Only when those creators can’t maintain control over their creatures.” He gives me a sidelong glance, and his meaning is clear in his undertones: someone—possibly the baron himself, but more likely the prince—sees me as a predator that needed controlling.

Oh, my dear baron.You have no idea.

“Shall we?” I gesture at the enormous snow leopard constructs he’s conjured, ignoring Svalkat’s smug expression.

I’ve always considered constructing predatory ice creatures to be as much vanity as skill—specifically because they are more prone to turning on their handlers. Moreover, it takes less control to pour one’s own anger and cruelty into a construct than it does to restrain those tendencies entirely to ensure a calm, tractable creation.

The ice swans Svalkat had conjured to draw his carriage were more impressive than these beasts. Though I do have to admit the Baron certainly has an eye for beauty.

As I swing onto the back of the mount he waves me toward, I’m also forced to admit he’s a talented conjurer. The cats he’s created are graceful and elegant, as well as comfortable to ride, stalking across the snow with an easy gait, their shoulders rolling under us.

“Did you have somewhere in particular in mind to ride today?” I ask as the cats stroll out of the main gate.

“I thought perhaps we could ride near the foothills at the border of your domain.” He reaches down to pet the cat as he gestures with his chin toward the Ashenfang mountains.

Near the firelords’ borders. Of course.

“It’s a long ride,” I warn him.

“Our mounts are made to run.” And with that, Svalkat spurs his snow cat onward. The one I ride leaps into motionbehind its partner, and the two race across the snow-covered fields separating us from the foothills.

The ride itself is glorious. The cool, sharp spray of snow flying up around us in invigorating clouds sets my heart racing, and I can’t help the smile on my face when we finally pull up well over two full quintclicks later.

As we rode, I was glad to learn the riding cat follows my commands easily. The baron might seem tightly wound, but the ease with which we rein in his riding creatures suggests there might be something more substantive to Svalkat than I anticipated. Of course, that could be a problem.

“We’re almost there,” I call out as he circles around and comes to a halt beside me. “The foothills begin just over that rise. I suggest we stop here, as the foothills form the boundary between the firelords’ realm and mine.”

“Of course.” The baron turns to ride parallel to the foothills, his hands resting lightly against the snow leopard’s back. After a moment, he glances over at me. “There’s another reason I asked you to ride today.”

“Indeed?” I assumed as much, of course.

“I did not come to Starfrost merely for a social visit,” he says solemnly, as if imparting a great secret. “Prince Jonyk asked me to pay you a visit.”

“And what did His Highness hope to achieve with such a visit?” I ask, carefully modulating my tone.

How much does Prince Jonyk actually trust him?

The baron sweeps a half-bow from atop his leopard’s back, his voice taking on a ceremonial cadence. “It is my great pleasure and honor to inform you that His Royal Highness Prince Jonyk and his retinue will be visiting Starfrost Manor a half ten-day hence, and you, Duke Ivrael Eluwyn, are to be accorded all the honors and duties attendant to such a visit.”

No.

I barely manage to keep myself from saying the word aloud.

I cannot afford to havePrince Jonyk and his retinue—which, of course, means all the toadies and hangers-on of the Icecaix Court—crowding into my home.

Fucking up my plans.

I realize I’ve been staring open-mouthed and silent at Baron Svalkat for far too long. I manage a short, sharp bow. There is nothing I can do other than give my assent.

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