Page 91 of The Alien's Vicious Starflash Manor

The dining room feels like a battlefield.

Uanna sits rigid and upright at my right hand, while Vazor lounges with deceptive casualness to my left. His daughters flank Lara and Izzy across the table, as if they could somehow impart proper etiquette through proximity alone.

I can practically taste the tension crackling through the air like lightning before a storm.

Servants glide in with the first course—delicate slices of raw fish arranged in intricate patterns on beds of shaved ice. Izzy’s face pales as she stares at the glistening flesh.

“Is it... supposed to be like that?” she whispers to her sister.

“The Ice Court prefers their food untouched by heat,” I explain before Lara can answer. “Much like your Earth delicacy of sushi.”

“There’s a difference between sushi and... this.” The fish shimmers with an otherworldly blue sheen that marks it as distinctly not from Earth.

I’d allowed the girls to retire to their suite for dinner the night before after Lara had claimed to be tired. Perhaps that had been a mistake. Apparently, they need all the practice they can get with all aspects of Icecaix life.

“The minerals in our oceans give the flesh of the moonfish its unique properties,” Uanna says, her tone dripping with barely concealed disdain as she demonstrates the proper way to consume the delicacy. “One must develop a sophisticated palate to appreciate it.”

I watch Lara take a careful bite, controlling her reaction far better than her sister. She’s grown more accustomed to our ways over the past year, though I know she still prefers Adefina’s cooked meals.

The thought sends an unexpected pang through my chest.

“You’ll need to learn to eat everything served at court without flinching,” Uanna continues. “Any sign of distaste could be interpreted as an insult.”

“An insult that could get you killed,” Vazor adds helpfully.

Izzy pokes at a translucent slice with her fork.

“No, no, absolutely not.” Uanna’s voice cuts through the strained silence. “That is the dessert fork. How do you expect to survive at court if you cannot master basic place settings?”

Izzy’s fingers tighten around the offending utensil.

“I’ve seen Ice Court nobles eat. They don’t use half these forks.” Lara’s voice drops, taking on a sharp edge. “I’ve also seen them do far bloodier things at parties than use the wrong silverware.”

Izzy’s head snaps toward her sister, concern flashing across her face as understanding ripples through our small group.

Memories of the other Caix gatherings she’s seen—especially of that final ball—hang in the air between us. Memories of debauchery. Of pain.

Of fire and screaming and death.

“You’ve seen them eat in private.” Uanna’s words cut through the memories. “Court dining is an entirely different matter. One wrong move and you expose yourselves as the frauds you are.”

I watch Lara’s jaw clench, the muscle ticking beneath her skin.

Harai and Rhaela exchange glances. The twins have been quiet throughout this farce of a dinner, though I note how Rhaela’s gaze keeps drifting to Izzy’s careful movements.

Like now, as Izzy methodically rearranges her silverware, her movements precise and controlled. “Like this?”

“Perfect,” Rhaela says.

“Perhaps we could focus on the actual meal?” Vazor suggests, his golden scales catching the light as he reaches for his wine glass. “After all, proper etiquette means little if they starve to death at the table.”

Uanna’s nostrils flare. “By all means, let them stuff themselves like common servants. I’m sure Prince Jonyk won’t notice at all.”

“Believe me,” Izzy mutters, just loud enough to carry, “I won’t be stuffing myself with any of this food.”

Staring at Uanna, Lara rolls her eyes. “The prince will be too busy watching for signs of treachery to care about fork placement.”

Uanna inhales sharply. “Everything matters at court. Everything is watched, noted, remembered. One slip in etiquette can reveal volumes about a person’s background—or lack thereof.”

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