Page 5 of The Alien's Cruel Starfrost Domain

Stepping through the more public sitting room and into my truly private chambers, I close the door behind me, and my shoulders slump in relief. I may be the Duke of Starfrost, but here is the only space in all my domain—on the entirety of this planet—where I can truly relax. Where I can show my true face.

I drop my vest across the back of my desk chair and lean against the window, watching frost spread across the glass from my fingertips. The patterns are weaker than they should be, fading before reaching even halfway across the pane. Ten cycles ago, my ice would have covered the entire window instantly.

The ancient text on my desk offers no new answers, only confirming what I already know—our magic weakens with each passing cycle. Soon it will fail entirely, taking our world with it.

But it doesn’t tell me how much time we have left. How long before the weakening of our power becomes irreversible.

I think of Lara, probably by now somewhere below in her kitchen sanctuary, unaware of how crucial she and her sister are to our survival. Of how their blood might be the key to saving everything.

If I can implement my plan in time. If the magic doesn’t fail completely first.

Looking back at the window, I watch the meager frost I managed to create already beginning to fade.

I turn away from the window, my gaze falling on the cabinet with its hidden compartment. On a whim, I go through the steps of the puzzle required to enter the lock combination, remove the false back, and reveal the twisted crown I’ve hidden away inside.

In the dim light, its blue stone pulses with a faint glow—weaker than descriptions claim it once shone, but still holding power. Power that could save us all, if wielded by the right bloodline.

My hand trembles as I reach for the crown. The metal burns cold against my skin—colder than even Icecaix should be able to tolerate.

But I'm not purely Icecaix, am I? Just as the Evans sisters aren't purely...

No. Better not even think it. The walls inStarfrost Manor have ears, and I can't risk anyone discovering what I know about their heritage. Not until everything is in place.

I wish I had a better way to contact Cyan, my starship’s AI—wish that there were fewer strictures around how often we can communicate. She is the only one who knows the entirety of my plan. The only one I can trust not to betray me.

Cyan would remind me it’s necessary to keep Lara hidden away until the right moment.

That thought reminds me. I need to find a reason to go off-planet, if only for a quick run.

Perhaps to a nearby commerce planet. It’s been long enough since I’ve used that excuse, and the Manor does require replenishing. Besides, it will allow me to get away from the overpowering pressure of Lara’s constant presence.

Even if I will spend the entire time worrying that something will happen to her while I’m gone.

But of course, I can’t leave. Not yet. Not until the younger sister is a little closer to her majority. Certainly not while Mib Svalkat, Baron of the Far Eastern Reaches, remains in my home as a spy.

I’ve known Svalkat’s purpose since before he’d arrived a ten-day ago—almost since the first moment my valet had mentioned the unwelcome baron to me.

The afternoon Khrint brought the news to me, I’d spent most of the day in my personal sitting room, sprawled in the wingback chair by the window, fighting my desire to go spy on Lara yet again.

“There’s a message for you, Your Lordship,” Khrint had said when he entered the room.

Oh, good, I thought. Maybe the message could distract me from wondering where she was, what she was doing. I stretched out my hand and waved it indolently toward my valet.

Khrint held the silver tray toward me to allow me to pluck the envelope and letter opener from it. I slipped the blade beneath the flap, sliced open the envelope, and drew out the single card to read the note the baron had written. It purportedly offered to take me up on asocial invitation—one I didn’t recall ever having made. And he would be arriving the very next day.

My jaw clenched as I sat straight and dropped my feet to the floor. My boots hit the polished wooden planks with a jarring thump.

I managed to avoid cursing, but only barely.

As I turned to my servant, I tried to swallow my anger and frustration—Khrint had merely delivered the message. The valet did not deserve to suffer merely for doing his job.

“Inform housekeeping and the kitchen that we will have guests tomorrow. I expect everyone to be prepared to greet them.” Khrint gave a curt nod and careful bow before sliding out of the room. Normally, I would have appreciated him leaving me to my brooding. But not then. At that moment, I would have preferred company.

Then again, the message had put me in a foul mood. Khrint might have preferred to be out of my company.

“Wise man,” I muttered.

On most occasions, I wouldn’t bother assembling the entire household to greet a guest—especially not one whose social rank was lower than mine.

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