Page 80 of The Alien's Vicious Starflash Manor

“Come, miss,” Lucilline says. “Sit at the dressing table and I’ll finish your hair.”

I glance at Izzy, sprawled across the bed, already dressed in a deeper blue gown that makes her red hair look like flames. “You’ll wrinkle your dress.”

“Kila’s right. You are acting weird.” Izzy props herself up on her elbows to study me. “Did something happen last night after I went to bed?”

“Oh, something definitely happened,” Kila trills, fluttering over to land on Izzy’s shoulder.

The back of my neck prickles with heat. Before I can respond, a sharp knock at the door makes me jump.

“Enter,” Lucilline calls out, still fussing with my hair.

Ramira glides in, the Icecaix maid’s jaw tense, her usual cold disdain hardened into something sharper.

Izzy sits up on the bed, dislodging Kila.

“His Lordship requests your presence in the receiving room,” Ramira announces, the words precise and brittle as icicles. Her gaze sweeps over my court dress, and her lips thin to a knife-edge. “As soon as you’re properly attired.”

My stomach does a slow flip. Of course he wants to see us. Of course I have to face him in the cold light of day, after I?—

“But not the raya,” Ramira adds, glaring at Kila. “I’m to return it to the kitchen.”

“No,” I say quickly. “I’ll take her down.”

Ramira snarls and starts to say something, but then Lucilline jumps in. “I will take her down once you’re ready to see His Lordship.”

My stomach turns flip-flops. I’ll never be ready to see him again.

“You are expectedimmediately,” Ramira says.

“We’ll be there.” Izzy’s voice cuts through my panic. “Once my sister is ready.”

Ramira’s nostrils flare at Izzy’s casual tone, and Lucilline’s hands go still on my shoulders, as if holding me back from responding.

“Very well, myladies.” The title drips with venom as Ramira executes a perfect curtsy and backs out of the room.

As soon as the door closes, Izzy lets out a low whistle. “Wow. Someone’s pissy about the new pecking order.”

“I’ve seen icicles warmer than that one,” Kila mutters, retreating to huddle under my hair against my neck where it’s warmer. “And I should know.”

“Can you blame her?” I ask, watching Lucilline pin up another section of my hair. “She’s served him loyally for years, and now we show up and suddenly get elevated to... whatever this is.”

“His special guests,” Izzy says with mock grandeur, then sobers. “Seriously though, what’s going on with you? You look like you’re about to face a firing squad.”

“More like she looks like she’s seen a ghost,” Kila pipes up from her warm spot at my neck. “A very handsome, very cold ghost, if you ask me.”

I reach up to gently swat at her, but she just giggles and burrows deeper into my hair.

I meet my own gaze in the mirror, seeing the barely concealed panic there. How can I explain what happened in the gallery? How I let myself get swept away by Ivrael’s intensity, his touch, his?—

“Nothing,” I finally say. “I just... I hate all this court stuff.”

Izzy’s reflection raises a skeptical eyebrow. “That’s why you’re blushing every time someone mentions His Lordship.”

“I am not!” But even as I protest, I feel fresh heat creeping up my neck.

“Uh huh.” She picks up a slice of bread Adefina had sent up for breakfast and takes a bite, still watching me.

“There,” Lucilline announces, stepping back to survey her work. “You look lovely, miss.”

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