Page 90 of The Alien's Cruel Starfrost Domain

“Odd choice, isn’t it, to have a firelord carved of ice as a decoration?” Adefina says from behind me, having entered the room without me noticing.

“Seems strange, for sure. I thought the firelords were enemies of the Caix.”

“Nobles do strange things, sometimes.” Adefina shrugs and moves toward the table, where she places yet another platter of raw meat. I shudder at the sight of it, blood pooling under the cuts and freezing in the cold air.

And yet, the dark reddish-brown of the blood provides a colorfulcounterpoint to all the icy blue and white and silver in the room, and I have to admit that, despite my revulsion for the bloody meat, I can see the aesthetic appeal of the color in this sea of neutrality.

With a shake of my head, I leave the dining hall and head back to the kitchen. It doesn’t matter what I’m doing, though—my mind is entirely elsewhere.

On my escape.

I know there are untold dangers waiting for me outside the manor. Undead Caix in the cemeteries, monsters—or something like them—in the woods, and countless miles of magical, snowy landscape between me and the means of getting back to my world.

Simply running away isn’t going to work. I am going to need help.

And I have a plan.

For a while, I thought I might get Fintan to help me. But for all he doesn’t belong in the Icecaix lands, or even on Trasq at all, he isn’t discontent here. He even confessed to me once that he kind of likes his job in the duke’s household. And I don’t know about Adefina. I don’t think she likes it here—but she seems resigned to it, as if there’s nothing she can do to change her fate.

Of course, I’m taking Kila with me when I go. But I’ll have to protect her, and I worry that it’s going to take every ounce of strength she has to survive crossing the winter lands.

No—there’s no one in the duke’s household who can help me. But I’m right about who can.

The firelords.

Prince Jonyk doesn’t bother to show for the party Duke Ivrael is holding for him.

For some reason, that feels significant.

The first I hear of this is Ramira and Oriana whispering about it in the corner of the newly transformed banquet hall. I’m bringing in the last overflowing platter of raw food, wishing I could hold my nose against the scent of the fish that takes up the plateas I wonder how far away the nearest un-frozen river is, how long it might take to get fish to Starfrost Manor. If the Icecaix prefer their sushi to smell slightly rotten.

When I walk into the former dining room, I realize that the fish isn’t the worst of the fragrances. There’s enough bloody meat in the banquet hall that I can smell the metallic tang of iron and copper in the air even over the other scents.

“Prince Jonyk has continued to the Ice Palace.” Ramira’s disapproval feels sharp enough to cut me if I get too close. But I can’t stop myself. I pause beside the two housemaids, even though it means holding onto the fish platter longer.

“I didn’t think the Icecaix were allowed to criticize their sovereign,” I say, raising one eyebrow. It was a trick Izzy and I had gotten from Mr. Spock and perfected one summer after Roland forgot to pay the cable bill—or chose to buy beer instead—and we were left with nothing but old original Star Trek DVDs to watch.

“I am not criticizing His Royal Highness,” Ramira says. “Merely stating a fact.”

“Yeah, right.” Ready to ditch the fishy platter, I head toward the buffet. “You better watch out who you spend your time with, Oriana,” I call back over my shoulder. “That one could get you in trouble if you’re not careful.”

Suppressing my grin isn’t easy when I hear the two of them sputtering in outrage behind me.

Then, not only do I manage to get one of the footmen to look at me, but he also actually responds to me when I ask, “Should I take this food back to the kitchen? If Prince Jonyk isn’t coming, do we even need to have it in here?”

The fine-boned Icecaix looks at me as if I’ve suddenly sprouted an extra head—or as if I’m a piece of furniture that has suddenly started talking. “Of course we still need the food,” he said, his nostrils flaring as he sneers down at me. “His Highness’s retinue will still be breaking their journey here.”

“Journey from where?” I ask. It’s a question I haven’t been able to get Adefina to answer, and Kila swears she doesn’t know.

“They are returning from the firelands.” Oddly enough, Ramira is the one who answers. She takes the fish tray from me, and I’m happy enough to hand it over.

All this time I’ve been asking Adefina about the firelords, when apparently, it’s the one topic Ramira is eager to discuss with me.

Well, the one topic other than my own human inferiority to all things Icecaix.

“The firelands? What were they doing there?” I ask, hoping she’ll continue communicating with me just a little longer.

“Prince Jonyk was ratifying the Icecaix-Firelord Treaty, just as he does every five cycles.”

---