Page 38 of The Alien's Vicious Starflash Manor

I try to release Starflash, but my fingers won’t respond, locked around the hilt as magic continues to pour through me.

The last thing I see before my consciousness fades is the crown’s gem pulsing in time with my heartbeat in a rhythm that feels like doom.

When my awareness returns, I find myself sprawled on the floor of my study, gasping, with the taste of copper in my mouth, frost spreading out from my body in elaborate patterns across the stone.

Starflash lies beside me, its blade dimmed to a dull gleam. The crown rests on my chest. They have both gone dark again,but now I know—the answer isn’t in either artifact alone. The key lies in the blood connection between them.

I push myself to sitting, head spinning, and stare at the artifacts that have just confirmed my worst fears. The visions showed me what I both hoped and feared to learn—that my plan can work, that when used together, the crown and sword can indeed restore our magic.

But they also revealed the cost, higher than even I had calculated. Not just the Evans sisters’ deaths, but their willing sacrifice.

The crown requires both blood and choice, freely given.

Yet I know Lara would never choose this. And even if she were willing to sacrifice herself, she would never agree to the possibility of sacrificing her sister.

That doesn’t matter. It can’t.

Pulling myself to my feet, I straighten my spine and roll my shoulders back.

I will simply have to find some way to convince them—or a way to circumvent the need for their agreement altogether.

In the meantime, I have a throne to usurp. And I also need the Evans sisters’ participation in order to do that.

I’ll simply have to consider convincing them to participate in learning to function among the Icecaix as if it’s practice for persuading them to sacrifice themselves.

At the thought, I laugh aloud, a dark, cynical sound that echoes through my study. Shaking my head, I ring the bell to call Khrint.

There is no way to go but forward. Nothing left to do but follow the plan.

Even if all is lost, it’s still time for Lara and Izzy to begin their Ice Court training.

And time for me to actually deal with those ice-maze blueprints Uanna sent over.

Aquintclick later, I’m standing in one of the fields behind Starfrost Manor—the one where I usually fly my snowhawks—preparing to meet with the firnator, the magic-user who will create the replica ice maze. The morning sunlight reflects blindingly off the fresh snow, bright enough to make my eyes water despite my Icecaix heritage.

Cyan’s analysis of Uanna’s blueprints plays through my mind. No obvious traps in the data itself, though the AI had pointed out several suspiciously empty spaces in the design—perfect places for the kind of “accidents” Jonyk favors.

I’ll handle those details myself. Better to keep such knowledge limited.

Hiring Firnator Syella is a risk. She’s been creating ice structures for the court for decades—for all I know, she’s the one who created this maze for Jonyk. She has connections I can’t fully track, loyalties I can’t guarantee. But her skill is undeniable, and I need this maze built quickly and perfectly.

I could attempt it myself, but even if I have enough raw power left—and I’m not certain I do—I lack the technical precision required. The maze must be exact, must mirror Jonyk’s

Syella approaches across the field, her silver hair blending with her white robes, those robes merging with the snow until she seems to float, ghostlike, toward me.

Ice crystals form in the air around her with each breath, more delicate and controlled than any I’ve seen before. This is why I need her, despite the danger of involving someone else in my plans.

“Your Lordship.” She doesn’t bow—ice-mages rarely do, their pride in their craft outweighing court protocol. Her pale eyes study me with unsettling directness. “An interesting commission.”

Heat flares beneath my skin. Does she suspect something? But I work to keep my expression smoothly bland as I hand her the blueprints. “Welcome to Starfrost, Firnator.”

“Hmm.” She examines the blueprints, weathered fingers tracing the intricate paths. “These specifications are unusually precise. Almost as if you’re copying something that already exists.”

My chest tightens. “Can you match them exactly or not?”

“Oh yes.” A smile curves her thin lips. “Though it will require considerable power. And discretion, I assume?”

I let frost edge my tone, though I doubt my power will intimidate her. “Your usual fee will be doubled for your silence.”

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