Ice Baron (Ice Chronicles, Book One (science fiction romance)) (2 page)

Anya wondered briefly if this was
a horrible nightmare. It couldn’t be happening. And yet she had known it would
happen. Her fate had been set. And if she wanted to forge a peace that would
save the lives of thousands of her citizens, she would agree to marry Onred.

Joshua’s gaze continued to hold
hers. The force and strength of his personality shored up her horrified, collapsing
dreams. It felt like her very soul was shattering. As if she had been ordered
to marry the devil.

“I can’t,” she breathed. It was
unlike her to flounder, but her world was imploding. Joshua was ejecting her
from his life. She would have to abandon her brothers and sisters and live in
Onred’s capitol city of Bogd for the rest of her life. Tears threatened. “I
can’t
.”

Joshua’s strong, steady hand
closed around her upper arm. “You must. For the peace of Donetsk Territory.”

Silently, she stared at him. Did
she have a choice?

Under the Old Barons’ Law, the
answer would be
no
. Joshua’s order alone, as Baron of Donetsk Territory,
would be enough to seal her fate. But Joshua had come to seek her compliance…or
maybe this was only a token gesture. Suddenly, she wasn’t sure of anything
anymore. Had he already accepted the bride payment? Although the bride price
was largely a symbolic gesture, if Joshua had accepted the payment, it would
mean that both the marriage and peace contracts were already signed. It would
mean that she already belonged to Onred in all ways except for one.
The
marriage ceremony would put the last, pretty flourish on the contracts,
finishing the vow before God, and sealing the peace agreement for the rest of
her life. And it would grant Onred his final right—conjugal visits. Panic beat
in her breast. Surely Joshua hadn’t accepted the bride price. Not without
talking to her first.

She managed, “Have you…accepted
it?”

“No.”

Her swift feeling of relief didn’t
last long. A decision still needed to be made. She wondered what would happen
if she refused to accept her duty.

Joshua watched her intently, as if
able to read into her soul—an uncomfortable, perceptive quality that she had
rued as a teenager. His grip on her arm gentled. “You are a brave woman, Anya.
And I know that with you in Altai Territory, I can trust a permanent peace with
Onred.”

Of course, Anya wanted to protect
her people from Onred’s bloody hordes, and to save thousands of lives. And she
wanted to make Joshua proud. But more than any of that, she wanted her life to
have meaning and purpose. She was a Dubrovnyk. Her family had ruled Donetsk Territory for almost two hundred years.

She must give her life to serve
the territory. If marrying Onred was her fate, then so be it.

Unfortunately, although her mouth
opened and closed, she could not choke out the words to accept her fate.

His grip tightened when the
silence uncomfortably lengthened. Voice a gravel rasp, he said, “Do you understand?”

So, it was an order after all. She
was to be given no choice.

Mutely, she stared at him, in
silence accepting her duty, although her very soul revolted against it.

Something bleak and black flashed
in Joshua’s eyes, and then vanished. “Good.” Another silent moment passed, and
she sensed conflict waging within him. But when his fingers released her arm,
she felt his emotional withdrawal at the same time he stepped back. “I am proud
of you, Anya.”

When he strode from the room,
leaving her behind, Anya’s heart felt like it crumbled to nothing.

CHAPTER ONE

Astana

Lunch, the next afternoon

Anya Dubrovnyk eyed
her future husband across the lavishly
appointed banquet table. She hated him. Everything about Onred Stoystiya—from
his beard, trimmed into a pointy goatee, to his dark hair, shorn so short that
the middle-aged thinning at his crown was obvious. Most especially, though, she
despised the territory baron’s black eyes, in which festered greed and lust.

“Good one, Joshua!” Laughter
boomed from Onred’s barrel chest. It appeared he appreciated her protector’s
dry witticism. It was a lie, as was everything about him. An hour ago Anya had
learned, to her horror, that a demon lived in Onred’s black soul. He had proven
it in a dead-end hallway, where he had cornered her with a chilling leer. He
had said that he had already bought and paid for her. Now she was his. Those
had been the longest, most degrading moments of her life. She felt soiled and
devastated, and wanted a shower. But nothing could cleanse her mind.

Joshua Van Heisman did not seem to
realize what a snake he entertained under his roof. That was because he focused
only upon peace. Thousands of men had died last year at the hands of Onred’s
bloodthirsty forces. Last night, Joshua had publicly accepted the bride price
and ruled that Anya—as the deceased baron’s oldest daughter and his only legal
heir according to the Old Barons’ Law—would marry and form an alliance with the
Altai territory lord, Onred.

Peace on their eastern,
mountainous border would finally ensue. However, the bloody skirmishes to the
south, with her uncle, would continue.

Joshua’s gaze sought Anya’s;
probably wondering why she didn’t smile. Keeping her features purposefully
expressionless, she stabbed her fork tines into the red berry cobbler and
twisted it, shredding the chef’s perfect arrangement. Forget Joshua. After all,
for all intents and purposes, he had sold her to Onred last night. He had
purchased his peace, and had forced her into a betrothal with the very devil himself.
Even worse, he was unwilling to reconsider the matter. Before lunch, when with
a trembling voice she had tried to explain to him that she could not marry
Onred, he had brusquely dismissed her concerns as nerves, and strode off without
listening further. It had stunned her that her wishes meant nothing to him.

Had they ever? She bit the inside
of her mouth to prevent unwanted tears.

What a fool she had been, and for
so long. She had always totally believed in Joshua and trusted him. He had been
honored and respected by her father, to whom bone-deep respect had not come
easily—after all, Joshua had been young, at twenty-three, when he’d been
promoted to second-in-command. And when her parents were murdered when she was
thirteen, Joshua had become protector to Anya and her siblings, and shortly
afterward promoted to baron.

Anya had always believed that
Joshua was special, although she’d always known that her aching hero-worship of
him could never grow into anything more. Protectors and their charges were
forbidden to commit the mortal sin of romantic involvement. Punishment, through
the Old Barons’ Law, was swift, terrible, and irrevocable—for both parties.

In her secret heart, though, Anya
had always adored Joshua. He was brilliant and fair-minded, and wore his role
of command easily, as if it were a natural part of him
.
He knew who he was. But his eyes were what had caught her fancy at that
young age. Those changeable eyes. Velvet brown most of the time, or a warm,
rich tawny color when he laughed, or when he tried to mask deep emotion. Kind
eyes, she had thought then.

And he
had
been kind to her
and her siblings. He had also been a little distant, prodding, and challenging…especially
to her. As the eldest child, she had taken on the mother role to the younger
children. Joshua had approved, and had even expected her efforts. Once, he had
told her that she’d done a good job. Anya had held that bit of praise close to
her heart for a long time.

Anya cast Joshua another
expressionless glance. Yes, she had always thought Joshua was quite perfect.
These last twelve hours, of course, had proven something altogether different.

A giggle caught her attention.
Marli, her youngest sister, whispered to Onred’s daughter. Marli was eleven,
Emelie fifteen. Onred’s daughter appeared to be a very serious girl. She wore
gobs of black eye make-up, which unfortunately brought to mind a raccoon,
rather than a beautiful young girl. Her hair was bleached white. Never once had
Anya seen her smile. Secretly, she wondered if the girl was lonely. The teenage
years were hard without a mother, as Anya well knew.

Marli seemed to like Emelie. Anya’s
sunny sister had spent the last two days dragging her new friend all over their
sky city of Astana, trying to impress her. However, the city’s many
technological innovations appeared to be the only things which sparked Emelie’s
interest—especially the new DiaMoRCs (diamonite morphing resculpting compounds).
Anya was lucky enough to enjoy a prototype in her compartment. Unfortunately,
she had been alarmed to catch Marli demonstrating its abilities to Emelie this
morning. It had been too late to stop the demonstration.

The Altai girl had watched in
amazement as a graceful, potted red orchid had melted into a shimmering gray
ball, and then reformed, sprouting four long legs and a circular table top.
Marli had evidently typed “various” colors into the diamonite remote, for the
tiny diamonite silicon chips had shockingly transformed the gray table top to
look like a rainbow swirled lollipop. With an eye roll, Anya had shooed them
out, pretending the incident meant nothing. In truth, she had been deeply
concerned, since she was certain that their Altai enemies weren’t supposed to
know about the new invention.

It was on her way to apprise
Joshua of the situation that Onred had waylaid her. His request had been
reasonable; to walk with him so they could become better acquainted. Against
her better instincts, Anya had agreed. And then he had trapped her in that
quiet, dead-end hallway, and muffled her screams with his meaty hand.

Onred now pushed back his chair.
It squeaked alarmingly, probably because of the extra stone of weight around
his middle. His thick tongue flicked out and ran over his lips, catching the
last crumbs of the cobbler. Squashing his linen napkin into the table, he
lumbered to his feet. “Thank you for your hospitality, Joshua.” He shook her
protector’s hand and then bowed to Anya, pretending chivalry. “I will see you
soon, my dear. Emelie, it’s time to go.”

Relief lightened the girl’s sallow
face. Without a word to Marli, she hastened to her father’s side and out the
door, heading for the shuttle bay.

Marli didn’t seem to notice the
snub, and eagerly wolfed down the last of her dessert. “Can I be ’scused,
Joshua?”

“Of course.”

“Me, too.” Anya stood before Joshua
could speak. When she had gained the empty hall, she discovered she was shaking.
She could not marry Onred. She would not.

“Anya.” Joshua’s voice came as a
shock, for she had not heard his following footsteps. “What is wrong?”

“I told you before. I can’t marry
him.” Her voice trembled.

“Don’t you want peace?”

“Yes, but not with him. I don’t trust
him, and I don’t like him.”

“He gave us his word. We have to
trust him. In any case, the deal is done. You will marry him tomorrow.”

“I won’t!” she gasped.

Something wild must have flashed
in her eyes, for Joshua caught her wrist and held it firmly. “You have no
choice. I told you. The deal is sealed. He paid the bride price.”

“I don’t care,” her voice rose. “I
won’t
marry Onred.”

“You will marry him.”

“I won’t!” Anya struggled to free
herself, but in one blindingly swift move, Joshua jerked her up tight against
his chest, her arm bent double, so she couldn’t move. His show of superior
strength infuriated her.

“I am your protector. You will do
as I say.”

“I won’t.”

“You will.”

“Damn you!” She never swore, and
guilt pinched. But it all was too much. Worse than anything, she felt betrayed.
That this man, whom she had looked up to all of her life, would relinquish her
to the Altai wolf—and all for a price. Because it would bring peace. …Or was
peace the only reason why Joshua refused to reconsider the matter? A completely
new, shocking scenario entered her mind, and she wondered why she hadn’t
thought of it before. Had he instead approved the match because it would protect
his power? Was she merely a pawn, to be used to further his political goals? Nausea
rolled through her. All of a sudden, she feared this was the truth.

Through clenched teeth, she
gritted, “I will do nothing to please you again. Ever.”

His grip tightened. “You act like
a child. Grow up!”

That he would discard her like
this, as if she meant nothing to him—but perhaps this is all she had ever been.
A game piece. A responsibility he had willingly taken on, all for the profit of
payoff. After all, if she married outside their territory, he would stay baron
forever. Had this been his plan all along?

Well, his plot had come to
fruition. The good she had believed she had seen in him—their rare moments of
laughter and equanimity, and sometimes even a deep, uncanny understanding of
each other—must have been a product of her own fantasies.