Page 98 of The Alien's Cruel Starfrost Domain

“Use mine,” her companion offers, holding out a crystal compact. Such magical objects were once considered gauche, a crutch for those too weak to maintain their own glamours. Now half the court seems to be clutching similar tokens.

I find Uanna waiting in the vestibule as arranged, resplendent in a blood-red gown that seems to absorb the light. The color should look garish against her ice-pale skin, but somehow she makes it work.

Whatever she’s doing to enhance her youthful looks, it’s still working.

For now. While she’s actually still young.

She extends her hand. “I was beginning to think you’d forgotten me.”

“Never.” I brush my lips across her knuckles, noting how her pulse jumps at the contact. She may suspect my motives, but her attraction remains genuine.

But before I can escort her into the ballroom, voices approach.

“Your Lordship!” The shorter of a vaguely familiar Icecaix couple steps forward, his childlike size belying his malicious smile. “Just the person we hoped to see.”

His companion, a woman in a transparent gown, laughs. “We wanted to compliment you on your household arrangements. Especially that delicious little human of yours.”

My vision whites out for a moment as frost crawls across the floor. “I beg your pardon?”

“Oh, don’t be coy.” The male’s bulbous eyes gleam. “We had such fun with her earlier. Though we didn’t quite finish what we started.”

“Such a shame to waste her,” the woman adds. “We thought, after the ball perhaps...” She trails off suggestively.

“If you don’t mind, of course.” The male bows, managing to make the gesture both mocking and proper. “We’d hate to damage your property without permission. Though she won’t be particularly useful afterward.”

Uanna’s laugh rings out, sharp and cold. “Careful. His Grace is rather...protective of that particular servant.”

“Is he?” The woman’s smile turns cruel. “How fascinating. Tell me, Your Lordship, do you always get so attached to your pets before they break?”

Ice crackles beneath my boots as I struggle to contain my fury. A newcomer enters—one of Jonyk’s courtiers, carrying a riding crop. Without breaking eye contact with the creatures who apparently tried to hurt Lara—or perhaps actually did—I hold out my hand.

“Your crop, if you please.”

The courier hands it over without question. My fingers wrap around the leather handle, squeezing until my knuckles whiten. The physical sensation helps ground me, keeps me from unleashing my power here and now.

The temperature continues to drop. Frost forms on Uanna’s gown, on the smaller Icecaix’s fangs, on the woman’s transparent dress.

“Your Lordship?” Uanna’s voice holds a note of concern now. Perhaps she’s remembering what happened to Svalkat.

The male takes a step back. “We meant no offense?—”

“Of course not.” My voice emerges quiet and precise. “How could I take offense at such a...courteous request?” The crop creaks in my grip. “Though I’m afraid I must decline. I have other plans for my servant.”

“Other plans?” The woman’s nervousness doesn’t quite hide her disappointment. “What a pity.”

“I’m sure.” I gesture toward the ballroom doors with my free hand. “Shall we?”

They withdraw, casting uncertain glances over their shoulders. Uanna remains by my side, though she’s careful not to touch me.

“Well.” Her attempt at lightness falls flat. “That was dramatic.”

I don’t respond. In my mind, I’m already watching them writhe in agony. Their deaths were always part of the plan, but now... Now it’s personal.

“Shall we make our entrance?” Uanna asks when the silence stretches too long.

I offer my arm, shoving down the rage still coursing through me. “Of course.”

She takes it, though her fingers tremble slightly. Good. Let her be afraid.

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