Ice Baron (Ice Chronicles, Book One (science fiction romance)) (9 page)

“How?”

She should have known he wouldn’t
let it go. A moment elapsed before she said, “I look like my mother. I hoped he
might still have a soft place in his heart for her. …For me.”

Joshua clicked a button on the
console and swiftly faced her. His eyes glittered a hard, topaz color. “Are you
insane? Your mother started the war.”

Anya frowned. “No. My uncle
started the war, because he’s a jealous tyrant.”

“Your uncle hated your mother
and
your father. Why else would he fight a twenty-three year war? I fought his men.
They’re cutthroat. If Richert had seen your mother again, he would’ve slit her
throat himself.”

Surprising anger swelled. “He
wouldn’t. He loved her.”

Joshua stared at her, his eyes
hard. Then, softly, he said, “I thought you’d outgrown those teenage love
novels. I’m sorry to disillusion you, but real life is not a fairy tale.”

“I know that,” she snapped. “But I
don’t think
you
understand the first thing about love. All you know is
giving orders. Nothing matters to you except logic, facts, and…and
power
.”

He swung back to the console. “Count
yourself lucky I’m with you. If you’d followed your plan alone, you’d be dead
now.”

Anya softly gasped with rage. “You’re
an arrogant son-of-a…jerk.
That
I know for certain.”

His whole body stilled. Slowly, he
faced her. “Watch it.”

“You’re so arrogant you can’t see
that
you
insulted
me
. I am not an idiot. I wasn’t going to sashay
into Richert’s palace and ask him pretty please to make nice. I was going to
offer him…something.”

“What?”

She hesitated, unsure how he would
receive the linchpin idea of her plan to produce peace. “He wants the Tien Shan mountains. They’re beautiful, but barren and uninhabitable. We don’t use that
land. I planned to offer it to him in exchange for a permanent peace.”

Joshua actually threw back his
head and laughed.

“What?” she frowned.

“I grew up in those barren,
useless mountains,” he said pleasantly.

“No one lives there, except…”

“Wastrels? Vagabonds? They live
quite nicely, deep under the rocks. Until they decide to throw someone into the
cold to die.”

Anya gasped. “Not you, Joshua. I
thought you came from Japa.”

“You thought wrong.” He twisted
back to check the instrument panel. His skin looked faintly flushed.

“You’ve never said anything
before…”

“And why have I now? I don’t know.
But I’ve lived in those mountains, and I’ve fought for those mountains. My
friends have died in the Tien Shan, defending them from your uncle’s troops. I’d
rather die than give your uncle that piece of land. That mountain range is the
only physical barrier keeping him out of our land. Did you think about that?”

“We’d have peace.”

“And you’d trust his word?”

Anya didn’t know how to answer.

“What’s more,” Joshua ground on, “he
knows you have no authority to give away land.”

“I would if I married someone…from
our territory.” This solution had been her last resort. “My husband would replace
you as baron.”

Joshua went very still and just
watched her. Did he feel betrayed? And yet what had he done to her, by giving
her to Onred? He had used her for his own purposes. For peace, supposedly. But
really, it had to have been for power. Once again, the hurt of that swamped
her—so much so it felt like a burning, physical ache in her chest. And if she
was honest, it wasn’t just because he had sold her—for whatever the reason; it
was also because he’d ejected her from his life for good. Clearly, she had
never meant anything to him. Equally clear, nothing mattered to him except for
peace and power.

Anya had to know something. “Tell
me. Is that the real reason why you sold me to Onred? To marry me, my father’s
only legal heir, out of the territory, so you could stay baron forever?”

“No,
damn it
,” he snapped
harshly. “I’ve always put the territory’s best interests first. And your father’s
wishes first, too. I did not agree to the marriage so I could stay in power.”

“You sold me, though, regardless.”
Anya was surprised by the fury gathering hotter in her belly. He had betrayed
her trust, and had refused to listen to her pleas to rethink the marriage and
return Onred’s money. It still hurt, horribly. Until these last few minutes,
however, she hadn’t allowed herself to fully feel how much.

A crackle from the console drew
Joshua’s attention. Words blipped across the computer screen. He said, “This
conversation isn’t finished.”

Anya didn’t answer. She was
furiously close to tears. Too much had happened. Too much. Astana was gone, all
of her friends were dead, her family might be captured by a monster, and now
she was arguing with Joshua? And he, in just a few words, had torn apart her
plan to make peace with her uncle. Unwanted tears slid down her cheeks.

“Things are about to get worse,”
Joshua stated grimly. “We’re going down.”

“Why?” Anya wiped her cheeks with
the heels of her hands.

“Your uncle won’t let us cross the
last mountain range. Either we land, or they shoot us down.”

For the first time, Anya noticed
the starburst of tiny blips on the radar screen.

Was this finally the end? Instead
of dying in Astana as she should have done, would they both die now, at the
hands of her uncle’s bloodthirsty men?

CHAPTER EIGHT

Joshua lowered
the craft to the snow pack at the
base of the mountain. Cold moonlight illumined the flat clearing. Spindly trees
poked through the frozen ice.

Richert’s red aircraft settled
like bats in a circle, enclosing them in a tight web. The lights under-circling
their bellies flashed yellow. Anya wondered what color encircled Donetsk’s craft. She had never noticed before. It seemed a ridiculous thing to wonder right
now, one trigger shot shy of death.

“Distress signal noted,” came a
voice from the control panel. “Identify yourselves.”

“Joshua Van Heisman. Anya
Dubrovnyk. We’re fleeing Onred’s forces. We seek asylum in Richert’s city, Aksu.”

A computer voice scan would verify
Joshua’s identity. Anya’s heart beat faster with fear. How could Joshua sound
so level-headed and calm? Now her uncle’s men knew their identities. One laser
shot from her uncle’s ships would end both Joshua and the Dubrovnyk’s reign in Donetsk Terr itory. An easy win for her uncle’s bloody, twenty-three year war. 

Wasn’t Joshua afraid? Didn’t he
feel anything?

Silence ensued.

Joshua waited patiently,
occasionally drumming his fingers on the console.

Anya’s arm hurt. Time to apply
more healing mist, but she was afraid to turn on the wand. It’s white light
might be misconstrued as a laser charge up.

She had to use the bathroom, too.

Why was she thinking these things?

“Exit the bird, hands up.”

“Roger.” Joshua turned to Anya. “Leave
everything here.”

“But…”

“Everything.”

Some of her fear must have
communicated to him, for Joshua reached forward, as if to touch her, but
stopped. His gaze, however, held hers. Its steadiness reassured her. “It will
be all right,” he said softly.

She nodded.

Joshua slid open the door and
freezing air rushed in, instantly sticking Anya’s fine nose hairs together.
Hands raised, Joshua jumped out first. A waiting man grabbed his arm and shoved
him hard against a nearby aircraft. Swift, gloved hands patted him down and
hurled his laser and knives into the snow.

A man pointed a laser at Anya. “Out.”

Her legs didn’t want to move. She
stumbled toward the opening.

“Hands up!”

Anya tried, but her left arm hurt
horribly. Awkwardly, she jumped to the ground.

“I
said,
hands up!” The man
wrenched her left arm high, and she cried out.

“She’s injured, idiot,” Joshua
snarled. He shook off a restraining hand. “Be careful with her.”

The man didn’t listen. He hurled
her against another aircraft and slid hands over her body, looking for weapons.
He whistled. “You’re packing, pretty one.” With swift efficiency, he stripped
her laser and four knives from her belt.

“Get in the bird.” He shoved Anya
toward one craft’s doorway, while Joshua was hustled to another. They would be
separated. Anya couldn’t hide the fear in the glance she shot Joshua.

“It’s all right,” he told her
again. Face set like stone, he climbed into the enemy aircraft.

Anya obeyed the prodding of the
airman behind her and climbed into the warm bird. The man bound her wrists,
slammed the door, and they rose at dizzying speed, then shot forward. Anya
closed her eyes. At least they weren’t dead. Not yet.

*  *  *  *  *

Anya spent the short flight time
thinking up strategies for meeting her uncle. It seemed obvious they would be
taken to see him. Otherwise, they would be dead.

Although Joshua hadn’t thought
much of her original plan, Anya was more determined than ever to sway her uncle
to their side. It was the first step she could take to free her family from
Onred’s prison, if they were still alive, and protect the rest of Donetsk Territory. She would do whatever it took to coerce Richert to listen to them.

But by the time they touched down
in Aksu’s hangar, Anya had formed no new, solid plan to influence Richert.
Truly, why would her uncle want to ally with them? What could they possibly
offer that he would want? Besides the Tien Shan, of course. Anya supposed she
could try to charm him—although with the history of the twenty year war between
their families, it seemed unlikely to be an effective strategy.

Rough hands pulled her from the
aircraft, and within moments she walked beside Joshua toward the massive glass
doors leading to the heart of the city. People thronged in the inner, circular
area. Footpaths criss-crossed it, and these were bordered by flower beds and
benches. The outer perimeter of the main circle showcased shop fronts. Wide
hallways leading to unknown destinations intersected the large circle like the
spokes of a wheel.

He murmured, “Are you all right?”

“Yes.”

The doors silently slid apart.

“Let me do the talking.”

Anya didn’t answer.

Following grunted instructions,
they climbed into an open-air vehicle. The white electric train scooted
parallel to Aksu’s wide outer walkway. After a pause at the master exchange,
they rose five floors, and then sped on. This floor was quieter. Potted plants
dotted narrower hallways. Crisply dressed men and women walked quickly, some
carrying paper-thin computers, others disappearing down unknown hallways.

The train coasted to a halt at the
arched entrance of a gigantic room. Three story, floor-to-ceiling glass curved
up and arched overhead, allowing the glorious pink dawn to stream inside. Plum colored couches, cream tables, lush carpets on the floor, potted plants, televisions,
and a gold bar counter covered with platters of food all leant the feeling of
comfortable opulence.

An airman directed them to adjacent
chairs and ordered them to wait. A younger military officer guarded them. At
least it was comfortable. And warm.

Anya evaluated the plush
appointments, trying to get a feel for the man who owned them. Although Richert
was her father’s brother, Anya knew nothing personal about him. Over the years
she had seen clips of him on the news, of course, but those had only left the
impression of a big, stooped, frowning man with receding hair and thick, bristling
black eyebrows. And a low growl of a voice. Clearly, he was growing into a
bitter, angry old man. He also appeared to be much older than her father had
been. Perhaps by as much as ten years. That would put him at about sixty now.

A silent
whirr
drew her
attention. She drew a quick breath of surprise when she saw her relative.

When Joshua rose to his feet, so
did she.

Her uncle rode in a wheelchair. He
wore a brown and black flannel shirt, which drooped over his sagging shoulders.
His gnarled hands, clasped in his lap, looked like those of a much older man,
for the knuckles were round and bony, and the skin papery. Richert held his
head erect, though, as if with great pride, and beneath silvered black brows,
ebony eyes snapped.

“So. Joshua. You seek asylum with
your old enemy.” His gaze slid to Anya. “And you.” Although the words were
sharp and cutting, his eyes lingered; swiftly—perhaps even greedily—scanning
her face.