Page 39 of The Alien's Vicious Starflash Manor

“Triple.” She doesn’t look up from the plans. “And I want access to any information in your library on ice-crafting techniques.”

Clever old woman. It’s a good trade—my family has collected information on cold-magics for generations. “Done. Begin whenever you’re ready.”

Spreading the blueprints on the ground, Syella gestures toward them, freezing them in a solid block of clear ice—holding them in place so she can consult them while completing her work.

Moving to the center of the space, she raises her gnarled hands in a series of practiced gestures, her magic more like a dance than a spell. The temperature plummets as she draws on her power, pulling moisture from the air. Ice begins to form, spreading outward in patterns so intricate they seem alive.

The display of pure skill makes me wonder what she could have done before our world’s magic began dying.

“The basic structure should be complete by nightfall,” she says, never taking her eyes from her work. “The more intricate details will require another full day.”

“Excellent.” That should give me enough time to set facsimiles of the traps the prince is likely to set, and the Evans sisters enough time to learn their way through it.

“Though I’m curious about these empty spaces in the design.”

I freeze, going as still as if I’ve been encased in one of Syella’s ice blocks before finally inhaling. “Focus on the structure itself. I’ll handle any modifications.”

Her knowing look makes my skin crawl, but she nods. “As you wish, Your Lordship.”

She sees too much.

I begin to turn away, but her voice stops me. “Ice can be treacherous, even for those who think they control it.”

What does that mean?

I raise my eyebrows. “Indeed it can.”

She glances from the growing maze structure to the blueprints, and then her gaze shifts to hold mine for a long moment as if considering whether or not to say more. Finally, she nods as if coming to a decision. “Whatever game you’re playing with the prince, Your Lordship, I do hope you’ve considered all the angles.”

I clench my jaw against a sharp retort. She’s right, damn her.

“Send word when you’ve completed this phase.” I turn away before she can voice any more uncomfortable truths.

The morning’s other tasks won’t wait, I tell myself—especially checking on the Evans sisters’ progress with their court training.

My boots crunch through fresh snow as I head back toward the manor, each step taking me closer to Lara.

The thought sends an unwelcome surge of heat through my veins, despite the frigid air. I shouldn’t want to see her. Shouldn’t crave her presence like an addiction. Every moment spent near her makes my inevitable betrayal more difficult.

And yet I nonetheless find myself quickening my pace.

CHAPTER 11

LARA

Iwake the day after our arrival to find Izzy lying with her head turned toward mine, watching my face.

“What’s going on?” she asks quietly. “For real, Lara, where have you been all this time?”

I’m silent for a long moment, and tears form in her eyes as I try to find the words to tell her about my last year.

“I celebrated our birthdays, you know,” she says. “Just like we always celebrated them together.”

“I’ve been counting down the days to yours,” I manage to choke out past my own tears. “I tried to get to you before Ivrael did. But I wasn’t able to.”

The words seem to break through the dam of my emotion, and I tell her everything. It spills out of me—incoherent and confusing, I’m sure, but my sister has been listening to me tell stories all my life, and she follows my train of thought better than probably anyone else could have.

“So you haven’t been staying in this room the whole time?” she asks as my story winds down and my words fade away.

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