Page 84 of The Alien's Vicious Starflash Manor

“The twins will be here within the hour,” he says as if nothing happened. “They’ll help you learn to navigate court politics and proper etiquette. Their father will assist with... other matters.”

“Other matters,” I repeat flatly. “Like whatever you’re planning for the peace summit?”

A muscle twitches in his jaw. “Among other things.”

“And we’re just supposed to trust them? Trust you?”

“Yes.” His voice carries absolute certainty. “Because the alternative is death—or worse.”

“There’s always worse with you, isn’t there?” But the fight is draining out of me, replaced by bone-deep exhaustion. I’m so tired of trying to figure out his angles, his motives, his endless plots within plots.

So tired of fighting this pull between us.

“The twins understand what’s at stake,” he says more gently.

“Which is what, exactly?” Izzy asks. She’s been watching our exchange with sharp eyes, and I know I’ll be facing an interrogation later.

Ivrael’s gaze sweeps over both of us, lingering on my face for a heartbeat too long. “Everything.”

Before either of us can respond, Khrint appears in the doorway. “Your Lordship, Lord Vazor’s carriage approaches the manor.”

“Already?” Ivrael’s brow furrows. “They’re early.”

“Firelords,” Izzy mutters sarcastically. “No concept of scheduling.”

Despite everything, I have to bite back a smile. Trust my sister to cut through the tension with casual snark.

“We should greet them properly,” Ivrael says. “It wouldn’t do to seem unwelcoming to our allies.”

The word ‘allies’ catches in my stomach like a twist of barbed wire from a fence back home.

Is that what we are now? Allies in whatever schemes he’s plotting? Partners in his plans for revolution or revenge or whatever game he’s really playing?

Or are we just pawns?

“Come,” he says, holding out his arm to me. When I hesitate, something flashes through his swirling eyes—frustration? Regret? “For appearance’s sake, if nothing else.”

I place my hand on his arm, trying to ignore how right it feels. How my body remembers the way he touched me lastnight, stripped away every defense until there was nothing left but need and surrender and?—

No. I can’t think about that. Not now. Maybe not ever.

“Appearances,” I echo hollowly. “Of course.”

As we leave the receiving room, Izzy falls into step behind us.

I can practically feel her curiosity radiating forward, but thankfully she stays silent. I don’t have answers for her questions anyway.

I barely have answers for myself.

Ivrael’s arm is solid beneath my hand, his presence both comfort and torment. With every step, I’m acutely aware of him—the subtle shift of muscle beneath expensive fabric, the cool radiance of his skin, the way he adjusts his stride to match mine.

It would be so easy to lean into him, to let myself believe in whatever this is between us. To trust that maybe there’s more to him than the cold, calculating duke who bought me in the market.

But I remember the flames in his ballroom, the screams of the dying. I remember how he used that hellish inferno to test my power.

We reach the main entrance and step outside into the shining morning sunlight sparkling off the fresh snow in the courtyard.

My gaze darts to the gallows in the far corner, and nausea rises in my throat as I remember the boy who died on it.

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