Ice Baron (Ice Chronicles, Book One (science fiction romance)) (11 page)

All the same, Anya held no
illusions that she would ever sleep in that bed. She didn’t want to. In fact,
she would rather forego all sleep in order to rescue her family and defeat Altai Territory as swiftly as possible.

They would have to move fast,
before Onred’s forces coalesced again.

Joshua had left a moment ago, with
the quiet order that she care for her wound and refresh herself. He’d return
after he had spoken to Richert and her uncle’s commander about the attack. Anya
would rather have gone with him, for she was anxious to get moving on the
strikes, but that particular argument seemed a ridiculous one to fight. She did
need to take care of her wound. At the same time, it felt wrong to partake of
the room’s luxurious amenities. How could she pamper herself while her family
suffered?

Astana was gone, and all its
inhabitants dead, all because of her foolish choice to run from Onred. She had
been cowardly and selfish. Why hadn’t she faced her future with courage?

Tears welled. Anya couldn’t wait to
leave Richert’s city. Her life and her death belonged in the northern territory.
She was ready to die in order to avenge Astana, and to free her people from
Onred’s encroaching, murderous grip. Not for one minute did she think Onred’s
strike on Astana was the end. For years, he had wanted to conquer their whole
territory. Unless they managed to defeat him now, he would succeed.

But for this one moment, Joshua
was right. She did need to take care of herself. Then she could fight longer
and harder.

A medical wand and five cartridges
lay on the bed. She kicked off her boots. As she crossed the room, her toes
sank deep into the lush, creamy soft carpet. The bedroom featured all of the
newest amenities, including a micro-washer/dryer and computerized closet. After
tending her wound, which hurt a little less after applying the second healing
alpha mist, Anya stripped off her clothes, threw them in the washer/drier and
took a long, hot shower.

Long minutes later, dark hair
combed out and a thick towel wrapped around her, she pulled her clean, dried
clothes from the micro washer/dryer, and searched the room for a sewing kit.
She’d need to mend her parka sleeve so she could safely go out in the cold
again. And fast. Joshua wouldn’t waste much time. They’d need to contact Donetsk’s military soon and plan the attacks. Anya fully intended to be a part of the
strategy sessions.

No sewing kit anywhere.

With a touch to a button, the
closet door slid open. Beautifully flowing gowns hung from the racks. Anya
rapidly slid open drawers and sighed with satisfaction when she found a case
containing a small, hand-held fabric simulating machine. She should have known
the baron’s rooms would carry no items so mundane as a needle and thread.

Carrying it to the bed, she
pressed the sensor against the parka material. Cool blue light and invisible
sound waves permeated the coat’s specialty fabric. The digital readout said “Re1D.”
She plucked the appropriate fabric cartridges from the case and inserted them
into the wand. Meshed fibers, looking like a fine net, extruded from the
simulator. A few passes over her parka and the fabric wound was healed. A few
minutes to dry, and it would be as good as new. Anya healed the fabric on her
shirt and snow wear, too.

A knock came at the door.

“Just a minute.” She swiftly
pulled on her clothes and opened the door.

Joshua wore a frown. A moment elapsed
while he eyed her wet hair. The cool air from the hall swirled in, mingling
with the rose scent from her shower, still lingering in the moisture laden air.
When she gestured him in, he hesitated before entering.

He crossed to the window, which
offered a clear view of the snow-capped Tien Shan to the north. His shoulders
looked stiff.

“What’s wrong?”

“Onred bombed Irgiz.”

Anya gasped. “No.”

“He knows we’re in Aksu. If I don’t
surrender, Omsk is next. He’s given me twelve hours.”

“What about Irgiz’s missile
defense system?”

“Failed, just like Astana’s.” He
shoved a violent hand through his hair. “I wish I knew
why!
”

Anya rapidly assimilated this
information. Onred would not be satisfied with only Joshua’s surrender. If he
knew she was alive—as it appeared he did, from the “we” in Joshua’s words—he
would demand her surrender, too. “How does he know we’re here?”

Tersely, he said, “I don’t know.
Maybe Richert let it slip. Maybe they scanned our voices in their airbird. Good
news is, Onred confirmed he has your family.”

Anya felt relieved—and fearful. “Tell
the truth, Joshua. Onred wants me, too, doesn’t he?”

His tawny eyes met hers, and they
burned like fire. “You will stay here. I’ll pretend to surrender to Onred. Meanwhile,
the extraction team will rescue your family. I’ll kill Onred, if I can.”

Completely aghast, Anya stared at
him. “No. I’m going with you.”

“You won’t. That is an order.”

Anya’s temper flamed. “Forget you
and your orders! My family’s in danger. It’s
my
fault people are dying.
I will not sit on my hands and do nothing!”

He turned back to the window,
dismissing her protestations without bothering to reply. “I spoke to Richert
and his commanders. The extraction is set for zero hundred hours tonight. It’s
our game. They’ll help, if needed. I’ll surrender when Onred calls the time.”

Anya deliberately relaxed her
fists, telling herself to bide her time and get more information. “What’s the
plan?”

“After I leave here, I’ll go to a
Donetski outpost and communicate with my men. Then I’ll take the enemy airbird
and fly to the surrender location. Onred refuses to tell us the location yet.”

“When do you leave here?”

“In two hours. After lunch.
Richert insists I sleep for an hour.”

“I’m going with you. My brothers
and sisters…”

“No.”

That flat, inflexible command
infuriated her. “You can’t win this war alone.”

“You will stay here, where you’ll
be safe.”

“I failed my people. You
have
to let me make this right.”

His brown eyes appeared to be
swallowed up by darkness. “Obey me.”

“You’re not infallible. You don’t
know what’s right.”

“I want what’s best for you.”

“Do you?” Her voice rose sharply. “Is
that why you sold me to Onred? Because you wanted what was best for
me?
”

His solid shoulders flinched.

“I wish I had obeyed now.” Her
voice trembled. “Maybe thousands of our people would still be alive.”

“A…”

“I was so angry and hurt. That you
could do that to me, when I…”

“Anya.”

“You sold me. I asked you to stop
the deal, but you
wouldn’t.
” Unwanted, angry tears slipped down her
cheeks. She hadn’t meant to bring this up now, but couldn’t seem to stop the
storm of words.

He opened his mouth again.

“You
sold
me. Against my
will. Two cities are gone because I couldn’t take it. I wasn’t strong or brave
enough to sacrifice my life for you…or for our territory. And now they’re all
dead!”

“Damn it, I’m sorry!” The words
erupted with startling force.

She stared at him.

“I was wrong. I convinced myself
that you marrying Onred was for the best.”

“Then…” she faltered, “…then you
didn’t think it was?”

“No. I needed…”

“Peace?” she supplied when he didn’t
finish.

“I was a gutless bastard, and I’m
sorry.”

She wasn’t quite sure what to make
of that statement.

“I was wrong. Please forgive me,
Anya.” The entreaty in those velvet brown eyes almost melted her heart into a
puddle of forgiveness. Almost.

“Would you ever again force me, or
my sisters…”

“No!” More gently, he said, “Never
again. Never.”

“Good.” Finally, one terrible
weight rolled off of her shoulders. Relief overwhelmed her. Heart feeling a
little lighter, she impulsively hugged him. Although he stiffened, his arms
closed around her, too.

Awash in a moment of peace, Anya
held him tighter, and murmured into his neck, “I forgive you.” She closed her
eyes, drinking in the comfort of his strong, solid body. He smelled nice. Warm,
spicy, and male. The urge to kiss him overwhelmed her, and so Anya turned her
lips into the warm skin of his neck. He wouldn’t know it was a kiss. Not really.
But the texture of his skin against her mouth shot warm, shaky emotions through
her. Longing for more swamped her. It took every ounce of her will to step
back.

Joshua’s eyes appeared a bit
glazed. Abruptly, he turned. “I’ve got to go.”

Bewildered, she watched him stride
from the room. Had he realized she had kissed him?

He must have. It must have shocked
and offended him, too, the way he’d shot out of the room. Embarrassment heated
her skin. All the same, she knew that when Joshua returned, all would go on as
normal—as if the incident had never happened.

But she
had
kissed him.
What did he think of it? Was he truly disgusted? Contemptuous? Horrified?

Anya pressed her hand to her lips,
deeply regretting her impulsive action.

CHAPTER TEN

By accident, Joshua
came upon the solarium. It was deserted.
Thank God, for he needed to be alone. He crossed the sunny room to gaze out at
the desolate snow pack stretching south. Sunlight glinted off the snow and the
sky gleamed a brilliant, winter blue. Beautiful, but not as beautiful as the
color of Anya’s eyes.

For the first time since leaving
Anya, Joshua allowed his stiff control to relax. A shudder slipped through him.
When her lips had pressed into his skin, his heart had about stopped. It had
felt like a caress. It had felt like heaven.

He’d wanted to take her and…

Joshua drew a harsh breath, and
then another, willing the images and emotions to leave him. His fists clenched.
“You can’t have her, damn it. Stop.”

“Why not?”

The raspy voice of the baron made
him turn on his heel. Richert had caught him unawares. A bad sign. His preoccupation
with Anya had dulled his instincts.

“Why not?” The old man repeated,
lifting a heavy, silvered black brow. “If you want her, take her.”

Joshua disliked anyone suspecting
his deepest, most dishonorable weakness. Especially his lifelong enemy. “Never.
I’m her protector.”

“Most damn fool law in creation.”

Joshua’s fists tightened. “She
trusts me. I won’t betray her.” He turned to the window. “Not again.”

“You mean like when you sold her
to that bastard, Onred?”

Joshua’s fists briefly clenched
again.

“You
are
a damn fool.”

“Thanks,” Joshua said tersely.

“Settle up with her.” The old man
cackled. “You’ll feel a whole lot better. And it’ll clear your mind for the
mission. Think of it this way: if you fail the mission, you lose everything,
including her.”

“And if I win…”

“You gain power as a true baron.
You won’t feel like a mistake anymore. No one will see you as a stand-in for
the real thing. That’s how you feel, isn’t it?”

Joshua didn’t answer. He would not
bare his soul to Richert. But the baron was right. He had always felt that he’d
come into power by accident. Anya’s father had never chosen him to be baron. As
a result, Joshua felt he needed to exceed by double what others expected of
him. It was the only way he felt deserving of the role of baron.

Richert said, “If you defeat
Onred, you’ll gain the power to make your own laws. You can begin your own
dynasty. Anya’s father’s rule will finally die. As it should!” This ended with
a snap. “It’s part of the reason I’m willing to help you, boy.”

Joshua glanced at him, one brow
barely raised.

The old baron chucked. “Yes. I
thought you’d see the advantage for both of us. If you defeat Onred, you earn
the right to the territory. You’ll pull it back together from nothing. An
impossible task, maybe. Probably. But it will be a new territory. A new start.
A new dynasty. You could abolish the Old Barons’ Law if you want.”

Joshua had never considered this
possibility. However, he wouldn’t allow himself to hope. Not yet.

“But,” the baron finished, “if you
fail, you’re dead.”

“Protect Anya for me, if I don’t
return.”

The old man did not answer.

*  *  *  *  *

Anya set the alarm to ring in an hour
and curled up on the soft, pink bed. One hour should leave her enough time,
shouldn’t it? With a sigh of exhausted bliss, she closed her eyes.