Page 59 of The Alien's Cruel Starfrost Domain

She has to die. There is no other way to save my world, to restore our failing magic. I’ve known this since I first discovered her bloodline, first realized what she and her sister truly are.

So why does the thought of her pain matter more to me than the fate of my entire realm?

“It doesn’t,” I say aloud, as if speaking the words might make them true. “She doesn’t.”

But the lies taste bitter on my tongue, and the Caixlights flicker as if in accusation. I close my eyes, fighting for control—over my magic, over my emotions, over this dangerous weakness growing in my chest.

When I open them again, my reflection stares back at me from the darkened window. I barely recognize the man I see there.

You’re running out of time, I remind myself.

Soon I’ll have both sisters. Soon none of this will matter.

But tonight, with my magic failing and my certainties crumbling, I can no longer deny the truth: Lara Evans may destroy everything I’ve worked for.

Not because of who she is or what power may run in her veins. But because of how she makes me feel.

And that terrifies me more than any prophecy or failing magic ever could.

I’ve spent cycles preparing to sacrifice her. Now time is running out. For my magic, for my world, for her. Soon I’ll have to choose— Lara’s life, or every life in my frozen realm.

I thought saving my world would be worth any price. Now, as my magic fades, I realize I never calculated the true cost. The ancient texts never mentioned this—that saving a world might require destroying your own heart.

I can watch my world melt away or watch her die. Neither option leaves me whole.

And I’m beginning to suspect I’ve already chosen wrong.

CHAPTER 18

LARA

Itake all the broken crockery out behind the house and dump it into the trash for Fintan to deal with in the morning.

My chest aches, and it is absolutely not because I walked in on Ivrael kissing some Ice Bitch in the dining room.

Brushing my hands off, I head back into the kitchen and move through my usual evening routine.

I am not distracted, I tell myself.I’m just busy thinking, working out my new escape plan.

In fact, ever since Ivrael kissed me in the gallery, I’ve been far too busy trying to determine the best time to steal the map from his study and make my escape to the firelords’ mountains to even think about the kissing, really. It’s just as well he’s busy with her. The last thing I need is to be distracted by him. My desire to get out of here has only grown since Ice Bitch showed up and started hanging all over him.

Nope. I’m sure as hell not jealous.

But when I lie down on the hearth to go to sleep, the image of her sitting on his lap, kissing him, keeps running through my head.

Ugh. I run my hands over my eyes and blow out a breath, workingon calming my racing thoughts. I really do need to concentrate on coming up with a plan.Okay, Lara. Think.

I do know when he’s bound to be most distracted. The night of the ball he’s holding in honor of Prince Jonyk. The one he told us about this morning. Before the Ice Bitch arrived. Back when I was busy not thinking about Ivrael kissing me.

There will be more people in the manor, but they will all be preoccupied, so my original plan doesn’t have to change, not fundamentally—except for the part about slitting Ivrael’s throat.

It’s not that I don’t still want to kill Ivrael. In fact, part of me actually wants to kill him more than ever, I acknowledge with a wry grin. But there will be far too many people in Starfrost Manor the night of Jonyk’s ball, and I don’t want to risk being caught.

So I will forgo killing him if it means I can get home to my sister. After all, Izzy’s the most important person in my life, and returning to her is the most important part of the plan.

With that thought, I glance down at Kila, curled up in the crook of my neck, and my heart constricts. I may have to change the plan a little, I realize. She may not be Izzy, but I suddenly realize I can’t leave her behind when I go.

My life here moves erratically between drudgery and sheer terror. Kila makes that bearable—and has, almost since the moment she arrived.

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