Page 64 of The Alien's Cruel Starfrost Domain

This isn’t about what I want. It’s about keeping her alive long enough to serve her purpose. And if that means dressing her like every other servant, erasing any trace of her Earth origins, then so be it.

The irony doesn’t escape me—that the very thing I used to distance myself from her might have ended up putting her in more danger. That my selfish desire to keep her in those clothes that remind me daily of my eventual betrayal might have marked her for Jonyk’s attention.

I force myself to thaw the room, to release my death grip on my control. I’ll have new clothes made for her immediately. Proper clothes. Safe clothes.

Even if seeing her in them feels like watching her fade away.

Even if it means giving up one of my last excuses for keeping my distance.

Because in the end, none of that matters. Only her survival matters—at least until I no longer need her alive.

A quiet cough draws my attention. Khrint stands in the doorway, and from his expression, he’s been there a while—perhaps even long enough to have witnessed that last exchange with Uanna. And my reaction to it.

“What is it?” I ask.

“Baron Svalkat asked me to inform you that he’s discovered some fascinating theories about the interaction between technology and magic.” Khrint’s tone is carefully neutral. “He wondered if you might join him to discuss them now.”

If I refuse, he’ll assume I’m hiding something.

“Tell him I’ll be there shortly.” I pause. “Have you seen our esteemed baron’s correspondence lately?”

“Three letters dispatched to the Ice Palace yesterday, Your Lordship.” Khrint’s expression doesn’t change. “All sealed with his private sigil.”

“Naturally.” Which means we couldn’t examine them without detection. “And has Fintan returned from the village?”

“Yes, Your Lordship. He brought back Lord Vazor’s response.” Khrint glances around before adding quietly, “The letter is in your study.”

Where I can’t retrieve it until I deal with Svalkat. Who is undoubtedly watching to see where I go.

“Very well.”

I make my way to the library, where I find Svalkat exactly where I expected—seated at my private desk rather than the reading tables, a stack of books spread before him.

“Ah, Ivrael!” He doesn’t bother standing. “I’ve found the most intriguing passages about the theoretical limits of magical fields when exposed to different types of technology. I don’t suppose you’ve done any practical research in this area?”

As if he doesn’t know exactly what he’s asking. “I try to avoid anything that might damage our realm’s magic.”

“Of course, of course.” He shuffles through some papers. “Though I did notice some interesting calculations in the margins of this text. Your handwriting, isn’t it?”

Before I can respond, a commotion erupts in the hallway. Raised voices, the sound of breaking glass, and then Uanna’s distinct tones: “You clumsy creature! Look what you’ve done!”

Svalkat’s eyes gleam. “Trouble with the staff?”

I’m already moving toward the door when Lara’s voice joins the fray: “Maybe if you hadn’t deliberately stepped in front of me?—”

“How dare you accuse me?—”

I throw open the library door to find Lara and Uanna squared off in the hallway, a shattered crystal vase between them. Lara’s face is flushed, her golden-red curls escaping their tie. Even angry she’s beautiful enough to stop my breath.

“Lady Uanna,” I say, my voice sharp enough to cut through their argument, “I trust you’re unharmed?”

Uanna’s eyes narrow. “No thanks to your servant.”

Lara’s jaw clenches. “I already apologized for the accident.”

“Accident?” Uanna’s laugh is musical and cruel. “You deliberately?—”

“Enough.” I gesture at the shards of crystal scattered across the floor. “Lara, clean this up.”

---