Page 96 of The Alien's Cruel Starfrost Domain

I move around behind the open door, peering through the space above the hinges, hoping to catch a glimpse of the men Ivrael has been talking to. As they step out of the study, their voices now no more than a low murmur, I clasp my hands over my mouth to stifle a gasp.

Rather than using a candle to light the way, Ivrael carries a Caixlight spinning cold and blue above his open palm. But even the silvery white light cannot hide the golden gleam of the other man’s skin, the pattern of scales that trails up either side of his neck and onto his cheeks, disappearing into his hairline.

He’s a firelord. And so is the younger man who steps out of the room behind him. Ivrael is plotting with the firelords to overthrow the Icecaix Court.

And somehow, he needs my sister and me to help him.

Unsurprisingly, Ivrael leads the firelords down the stairs toward the back servants’ entrance—the last thing he’d want is to be discovered with these two.

I wait until the three men have disappeared and count to a hundred after that, listening to the murmur of conversation and the occasional bars of music floating up from the ballroom in the main wing of the house.

Then I slip out of the silver parlor and head back down to thekitchen, my mind whirling with the conversation I heard, the information I gleaned but don’t quite understand.

I keep returning to the comment that Ivrael needs Izzy and me to complete his plan to overthrow Prince Jonyk.

I can’t imagine how two human girls could possibly aid in that.

No, only one thing is certain.

If Ivrael plans to leave the next morning to buy my sister from Roland in The Trasqo Market, then I have to go with him.

Kila meets me at the kitchen entrance. “Where have you been? Fintan says you weren’t outside. Did you go somewhere else? Have you been to the ballroom?”

I haven’t prepared an answer. I intended to return to the kitchen with the map to the firelords’ lands and tell Kila the entire plan. But everything has changed, and I’m still reeling from everything I overheard.

“Yes,” I finally say. “I went to sneak a peek at the rest of the guests.”

Kila glances around to make sure no one else is listening. “That was not smart. What if those two found you again?” Then she darts back and forth in front of me, her wings giving off a disgruntled buzz that matches her tone as she allows her voice to get louder. “And why didn't you take me with you? You know I want to see the Ice Court dance.”

Despite the distractions, my preoccupation with the overheard conversation, the way my head still buzzes from whatever the couple did to me, I laugh. “I’ll take you now.”

“Really? You promise? Right now this minute?”

I pull open the collar of my shirt, inviting her to ride with me.

“Let me get my cloak,” she says, holding up a tiny imperious finger. She darts down to the hearth and snags the piece of fabric from behind the fireplace instruments, her wings now humming happily.

Not for the first time, I’m astounded by the fact that I can hear her mood in her motions, in the tone of thebuzzing of her wings.

“You two be careful if you’re planning to watch the revels,” Adefina warns us as Kila flits over to me and settles on my shoulder to snuggle into the crook of my neck. “The Ice Court—” she glances around as if afraid of being overheard, drops into the broad, almost rural-sounding accent I’ve noticed she’s used when she’s anxious, and whispers, “—especially them what’s nearest Prince Jonyk…well, they can be cruel, to say the least, and they could do quite a bit of damage before His Grace could get their claws out of you.”

Given what I’ve experienced so far tonight, getting close to the ballroom may be foolish—but my bizarre desire for the duke has subsided, so it had to have been some kind of Caix aphrodisiac they roofied me with.

God. I almost kissed that nasty little goblin.

I shudder in disgust. But as long as I don’t eat or drink anything else an Icecaix has touched, I ought to be fine, I reason.

Besides, I can’t resist trying to learn more about what Ivrael and the firelords were discussing. I nod solemnly, promising Adefina we’ll be careful, and then Kila and I move out of the kitchen and up the same back stairs I had come down moments before.

We reach the servants’ upper entrance to the ballroom in moments. A ledge runs along the wall just below the arched ceiling—one I had stood on to clean the ceiling the day before, higher even than the balcony at the north end—with a solid barrier to prevent anyone falling to the floor below.

I slip out of the servants’ door but keep us within easy reach of the entrance to the passageway, ensuring we can make a quick getaway if necessary. Then I sink down to a seated position until all but my eyes and the top of my head are hidden behind the railing, which was, after all, also designed to keep lords and ladies from ever having to set eyes on servants unless they choose to.

Caix firelights reflect cold and blue off the shining silver swirls on the wall, and the flicker of the gleaming globes as they move make the stylized silver wings look almost as if they’re in flight. Musicians play stringed instruments I don’t recognize, producing music like nothingI’ve ever heard before, haunting and unearthly even when the songs are lively.

Below us, the Ice Court glitters. In the center of the ballroom, they spin and twirl as they dance, some in couples, some alone, some in groups.

The Icecaix women wear their hair loose, flowing down their backs in more modern styles, but on the whole, they wear formal, Regency-style dresses and suits in cold shades—the white of snow, the glitter and gleam of gold and silver, the pale blue of ice, all whirling around in eddies like gathering snowdrifts, fans fluttering before their faces and ribbons trailing behind their bodies as they move and dance, their diaphanous wings—for those who have them—flickering as they flit here and there.

---