Page 23 of The Alien's Vicious Starflash Manor

“Possibly literally,” Cyan agrees cheerfully. “Though I suppose that depends on whether any of the firelords get peckish.”

I shoot a glare at the nearest sensor. “Not helping.”

“Sorry. Would you prefer I lie and say it will all be fine?”

No. Because it won’t be.

The Ice Court makes the firelords look positively welcoming in comparison.

At least dragons are honest about their desire to destroy you.

I begin ticking off items on my fingers. “They’ll need to learn proper court etiquette. How to dress, how to speak, how to move. Every gesture must be perfect.”

“The basics of politics wouldn’t hurt either,” Cyan adds. “Unless you want them accidentally starting a blood feud over the wrong fork.”

She’s right. Court politics are a dance of daggers, each step potentially fatal. One wrong word, one misplaced courtesy, and everything could unravel.

And Lara... Goddess help me, but Lara can barely keep herself from telling me exactly what she thinks of me in the relative safety of my own manor.

What will she do when faced with Prince Jonyk’s casual cruelty? When she witnesses up close the games nobles play with their servants’ lives?

She was horrified by what she saw at Starfrost Manor, at what was merely a small entertainment.

My hands clench on the armrests. “They’ll need combat training too. Nothing obvious, but enough to defend themselves if necessary.”

“Against what? The other nobles or their own court shoes? Because I’ve seen what passes for formal footwear in your world, and I’m pretty sure those count as deadly weapons.”

I ignore her attempt at humor. “Everything. Everyone. The court is a nest of vipers, and they’ll smell fresh blood the moment the Evans sisters walk in.”

The image of Lara facing down Lady Qarine’s infamous ice-poison rings or the Countess Naeryn’s collection of ensorcelled daggers makes my chest tight. And Izzy is even more unprepared, having never even seen our world.

“You could always leave them at the manor,” Cyan suggests carefully. “Find some excuse...”

“No.” I chew at my bottom lip. “Uanna specifically mentioned Jonyk questioning my loyalty. If I don’t present them at court now, it will only confirm his suspicions.”

“And of course, this has nothing to do with wanting to keep them close where you can protect them.”

I bare my teeth at her sensor. “I need them alive until the ritual. That’s all.”

“Mm-hmm. That’s why your core temperature just spiked again. Pure ritual-related concern.”

“Cyan.”

“Fine, fine. Returning to practical matters—what about their magic? You can’t exactly have them manifesting new powers in the middle of a court dance.”

The thought sends a wave of nausea through me. “They’ll need to learn control first. If either of them shows even a hint of power in front of Jonyk...”

I don’t finish the sentence. I don’t need to. We both know what the prince does to those he views as threats.

“So, to summarize,” Cyan says brightly, “in ten days, you need to teach two Earth women several centuries worth of court etiquette, political maneuvering, self-defense, and magical control. After, of course, ensuring they manifest that magic in the first place.”

I drop my head into my hands with a groan.

“While also maintaining your own cover,” Cyan continues, “managing your weakening powers, surviving any killer ice-maze traps, and somehow preventing Prince Jonyk fromdiscovering that you’re planning to replace him with those women and then sacrifice said women to save your world. Did I miss anything?”

“You forgot about keeping the firelords from recognizing their bloodline.”

“Ah yes, how silly of me to overlook the dragon-shifters who might literally smell their heritage. Well, I’m sure it will all work out just fine.”

---