Page 88 of The Alien's Cruel Starfrost Domain

The words echo Adefina’s earlier sarcasm, though Fintan won’t catch the reference. He bows and returns to his work, but I notice how he positions himself between me and the barn entrance.

As I turn to leave, movement catches my eye. A flash of golden-red hair in the barn’s shadowy interior. Has she been there the whole time, listening? The thought sends an odd thrill through me.

Let her listen. Let her wonder why I’m down here discussing her with Fintan.

Soon enough, she’ll understand everything.

And then she’ll be dead.

I push the thought aside and head back inside the manor. There are still preparations to be made, plans to be finalized. I can’t afford to be distracted by one girl, no matter how she haunts my thoughts.

But as I walk away, I can’t help glancing back at the scorched remnants of her dress. Such a small thing, really. Hardly worth noting on a day when so much hangs in the balance.

So why does the sight of it feel like a pronouncement of doom?

Now, I have only one more task to complete before I go to dress for the ball.

I find Uanna in the library, staring with a discontented expression out the frost-covered windows as she winds a lock of her straight, white hairaround one finger.

The sight reminds me of Lara’s golden-red curls, and I shove the comparison aside. I can’t afford distractions now.

“Lady Uanna,” I greet her, and she glances back at me before staring out the window again.

“Darling, so lovely to see you.” Her tone drips honey-sweet venom. “I’ve been hearing the most delicious gossip this morning. I heard you actually dismissed poor Baron Svalkat rather permanently. Over a servant, no less.”

Heat flares beneath my skin, but I keep my voice steady, ignoring her barb. “You look radiant today.”

She turns, one perfect eyebrow arching. “Do I? How fascinating that you’ve suddenly noticed.”

I move closer, my boots clicking against the floor. “I’ve been remiss in my attention to you.”

“Remiss?” Her laugh is sharp as shattered ice. “Is that what we’re calling it?”

“What would you prefer I call it?” I stop just outside her personal space, close enough that she must tilt her head back to meet my gaze. “My unconscionable neglect of the most beautiful woman in the Ice Court?”

Her pale blue eyes narrow. “Are you drunk, Ivrael?”

“Stone sober, I’m afraid.” I reach for her hand, brushing my thumb across her knuckles. “And seeing things much more clearly now.”

She allows the touch but doesn’t soften. “And what things would those be?”

“That I’ve been a fool.” The words taste like ash, but I force them out. “That I’ve forgotten what truly matters in our world.”

“And what does truly matter?” She steps closer.

“Power.” I lift her hand to my lips. “Position. Proper alliances.”

“Proper alliances?” Her voice holds equal measures of amusement and suspicion. “Like the one we once shared?”

“Perhaps.” I lower her hand but don’t release it. “Would you do me the honor of attending tonight’s ball as my chosen companion?”

There. The formal phrase hangs between us like crystal, delicateand dangerous. To refuse would be a social slight she can’t afford. To accept means binding herself to whatever happens tonight.

She studies my face, searching for the trap she must suspect. “Why now?”

“Because Prince Jonyk’s absence changes the dynamics of tonight’s gathering.” True enough, if not the whole truth. “And because I find myself remembering how well we once worked together.”

She steps closer and slides her free hand up my chest. “And what exactly do you remember?”

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