Page 87 of The Alien's Cruel Starfrost Domain

“Did you expect anything less?” There’s a hint of challenge in her tone that I might not tolerate from another servant. But Adefina has earned certain liberties over her cycles of service.

“Never.” I pick up a detailed list written in her precise hand. “Though I note you’ve included several cooked dishes.”

“For those members of the retinue who might share your peculiarities.” Her lips twitch. “And of course, for the human servant.”

Human. I stop myself from giving a sarcastic snort. There are no humans in my household, though no one knows that yet. I force my thoughts away from that path.

“Speaking of which.” I glance around the kitchen, noting Lara’s absence. “Where is?—”

“She’s helping Fintan with the fires out back.” Adefina’s tone turns careful, measuring. “Wouldn’t want anyone getting cold during the festivities.”

The irony in her voice is unmistakable. Most of the Ice Court would prefer the temperature well below freezing. The few preparations for warmth are purely for the comfort of any non-Icecaix servants.

And for me, though few know of my occasional need for heat. True, several of my staff believe I take a perverted pleasure in warmth, but they would be horrified to learn it’s not merely a preference.

“Very well.” I hand back the list. “Carry on.”

Outside, the winter air bites even through my coat. I tell myself I’m merely inspecting the grounds, ensuring everything is perfect for tonight. But my feet take me toward the barn where Fintan maintains the fires that keep my non-Icecaix herd animals from freezing.

I spot something pale against the snow near the perpetually burning pile of wood. Drawing closer, I recognize a scrap from the torn remnants of the dress I destroyed in my moment of weakness. The fabric is scorched and filthy,but unmistakable.

She burned it. Of course she did. What else would she do with the evidence of her moment of surrender? Of my loss of control?

“Your Lordship?” Fintan’s deep voice startles me from my contemplation. He stands a respectful distance away, his horns casting strange shadows in the pale sunlight. “Did you need something?”

“No, I—” I catch myself before I can offer explanations. I am the Duke of Starfrost Manor. I need no reason to be anywhere on my grounds. “How are the fires holding up?”

“Well enough.” He shifts his weight, glancing toward the barn. “Though it takes more wood than usual lately. Like the cold’s getting deeper somehow.”

I know why. The failing magic affects everything on Trasq, even the natural laws of heat and cold. But I can’t tell him that.

“And how are the servants managing?” I keep my tone casual, disinterested.

Fintan’s expression tightens almost imperceptibly. “Most do well enough. The human girl, though...” He trails off, then seems to gather his courage. “Begging your pardon, Your Lordship, but she wasn’t made for this kind of cold.”

Something hot and possessive flares in my chest. “You seem quite concerned about her welfare.”

“Someone should be.” The words slip out before he can catch them. His eyes widen as he realizes what he’s said.

I should punish such insolence. Instead, I find myself studying him more closely. The way his gaze keeps drifting toward the barn. The protective set of his shoulders.

“You care for her.” It’s not a question.

Fintan straightens to his full height, impressive even for his species. “She’s kind. Treats everyone like they matter, even after everything...” He cuts himself off, but the accusation hangs in the air between us.

Even after everything you’ve done to her.

I could have him flogged for such implied criticism. Should have him flogged, to maintain my reputation if nothing else. But until mereclicks ago, I had planned to assassinate my ruling monarch at the party I’m giving tonight in his honor.

What’s one servant’s unspoken censure compared to that?

Besides, his obvious affection for Lara tells me something valuable: she inspires loyalty even in those who should view her as beneath them.

It’s a trait that could prove useful in the days to come.

Assuming we both survive the ball.

“See that the fires are well-stocked for tonight’s festivities,” I say finally. “We wouldn’t want anyone getting cold.”

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