Page 82 of The Alien's Vicious Starflash Manor

Her eyes go wide. “What happened?”

I think of the cemetery, of undead kings and magical crowns. Of wolf-creatures with too-wide mouths full of ice-crystal fangs.

Of Ivrael’s punishments.

I push down the way my nipples tighten at that thought.

“Nothing good.”

“But there has to be a way.” She starts pacing, her new court slippers silent against the marble floor. “Maybe if we went a different direction?—”

“I’ve tried different directions. The woods are full of monsters. The fields are packed with snow. And even if we made it past all that, we’d still have to find our way back to the ship,figure out how to use it to get home.” I catch her shoulders, forcing her to stop and face me. “Iz, listen. I have a plan.”

She stills, studying my face with that analytical gaze that got her through advanced calculus at sixteen. “What kind of plan?”

“The firelords are coming to this peace summit thing, right?” I glance at the door, lowering my voice further. “If we can find one to help us?—”

“Like the one who burned down the ballroom?” Her tone drips skepticism.

“No, not that one.” I shake my head, remembering the screams, the flames, the horror of that night. “Neither of the ones working with Ivrael. But there will be others. Dragons, Izzy. Actual dragons who hate the Ice Court.”

“And you think they’ll help us? Just like that?”

“They might, if we can convince them we’re useful.” I bite my lip, considering how much to tell her. “Look, Ivrael keeps saying we have royal blood. That’s why he bought us. Maybe the firelords would be interested in that.”

Izzy’s eyes narrow. “You’re suggesting we trade whatever he wants from us to his enemies instead of giving it to him?”

“Exactly.”

“That’s...” She pauses, and I can practically see the equations forming behind her eyes as she calculates probabilities. “Actually not a terrible idea. But how do we know which firelords to trust?”

“We’ll have to be careful. Watch them at the summit. Figure out who’s already allied with Ivrael and avoid them.” I think of their golden scales gleaming in the Caixlights, the way the firelords plotted the ballroom’s destruction with such casual cruelty. “Some of them will be obvious.”

“And in the meantime? We just... play along? Learn all their ridiculous court manners and pretend we’re going to be good little Ice Court ladies?”

“Yes.” I squeeze her shoulders gently. “It’s not forever. Just until we can find someone to help us.”

She’s quiet for a long moment, that brilliant mind of hers no doubt analyzing every angle. Finally, she sighs. “I hate that this is probably our best option.”

“Me, too.”

“You’ve changed,” she says suddenly, searching my face. “The old Lara would have just kept running until she found a way out.”

The observation hits harder than I expect. “The old Lara didn’t know what was out there in the dark.”

Before she can respond, footsteps echo in the hallway. We spring apart just as the door opens, and Ivrael sweeps in with all his cold grace.

I catch Izzy’s eye one last time, seeing grim determination replace her earlier panic. She gives me a tiny nod—agreement, understanding, trust.

We can do this. We have to do this.

We just have to survive long enough to make it work.

I have to force myself to avoid reacting when Ivrael moves into the room to stand by a window looking out into the courtyard.

He’s outlined in morning light, golden hair gleaming, and for a moment I’m thrown back to last night—his hands in my hair, his mouth on my skin, his voice rough with need. His cock in my mouth.

Heat floods my cheeks, and I quickly look away, focusing on the intricate pattern of the rug beneath my feet.

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