Ivar's Prize

by Amy Pennza

  He passed a hand over his skull-trimmed hair. “I see. Did you take this crush to pleasure yourself, or did you use it with a man? Or a woman?”

  She narrowed her gaze. She’d just told him about the injustice she’d suffered, and he wanted details about her sex life. “There was a man,” she said through her teeth. “Spencer, my fiancé. Former fiancé.”

  “And he was sentenced too?”

  She swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat. “He wasn’t charged. It was his idea to take the drugs, but I’m the one who broke in.” She gave a little shrug. “So I confessed.”

  “Why?”

  “I…don’t want to talk about that.” The shock of Spencer’s betrayal was still so fresh she didn’t trust herself to speak about it. And what was with the interrogation, anyway? What right did he have to question her about her crime? They were both convicts. “What about you? Why were you sentenced?”

  “That’s kind of a rude question.”

  “You just asked me!”

  “Ah, but I’m in charge. You’re not.”

  She opened her mouth to argue, but voices drifted from the corridor, and the women walked through the opening, both carrying steaming bowls. They placed them on Ivar’s desk and stood back. The scent of food wafted toward Nadia, and her stomach growled loudly.

  Eleni—or maybe it was Annika—smiled at her. “It’s stew,” she said in a melodious voice. She reached out and touched Nadia’s hair. “You’re pretty.”

  “Um…thank you,” Nadia said.

  Ivar rose and rounded the desk. “My thanks, ladies.” He bent and gave each one a kiss on the cheek. “Don’t let me keep you from your dinners.” The one who’d complimented Nadia tossed her another sunny smile and grabbed the other woman by the hand. They left arm in arm, their blonde heads close together.

  Nadia watched them go. When she faced Ivar, he was settling in his chair. “Are they sisters?”

  He looked startled, then surprised her by chuckling. “I certainly hope not.”

  His smile transformed the harsh angles of his face. A deep dimple appeared in his cheek, and he looked almost boyish.

  Her heart sped up, and her stomach did a weird flip.

  “Eat,” he said, reaching for one of the bowls. He began shoveling food in his mouth without waiting to see if she complied.

  His curt command snapped her out of the spell. Had she just been staring at his mouth? She grabbed her bowl, which contained a wooden spoon and a thick kind of gruel. There were chunks of what looked like potatoes and some other kind of vegetable. It was bland, but it filled her aching stomach. Her spoon scraped the bottom far too soon.

  “Are you thirsty?” Ivar asked.

  “Very.”

  He stood and walked to the nearest wall, then pushed aside a piece of cloth she’d assumed was a decoration. The opening it hid was narrower than the others she’d seen, but still big enough for her to assume it led to another room. After a moment, he reappeared carrying a glass decanter and two metal cups. The decanter was chipped around the rim, but it was still beautiful, and she said as much.

  “A gift,” he said, pouring water. “Courtesy of the Council.” He pushed one cup toward her, then raised his own in a brief salute and drained it.

  She drank. The water was cool and smooth, flavorless yet distinct from any she’d had on Earth or a starship. It was sharp. Untouched by millennia of human interference. With a start, she realized it might be the purest water anywhere. She looked down at her empty cup. Moved her thumb over the raised design on the side. “I thought you said there was no Council presence here.”

  He walked back to the cloth and pulled it aside. “Come.”

  She rose and set the cup on his desk. He watched her, his posture relaxed. She approached him warily. He’d said he wouldn’t force her. Actions speak louder than words—a cliché, but those existed for a reason. He’d just served her dinner. He’d chuckled at her. Were those the actions of a man bent on assault?

  She stopped before the entrance. The doorway was narrow and half obscured by the curtain he’d pulled aside. Beyond it, light beckoned. More torches? She met his gaze and held it. “What’s in there?”

  “You wanted to know about the Council. I’ll show you.”

  She did want to know about the Council. More than that, she needed to know. If she planned to survive on this world, she had to learn how it worked. He was offering information.

  She stepped through the doorway.

  Reddish light spilled across the floor. Warm air hit her right cheek. She turned toward it and saw nothing but open sky filled with dull, red light. It took a second for her brain to process what she was seeing. It was another cave, except the entire back wall was missing. Where smooth rock should have been, there was hazy red sky. The floor glowed with the last rays of the setting suns just visible on the horizon.

  She gasped and stumbled back into something hard. Him.

  Strong arms grasped her shoulders. “Don’t be afraid.”

  She shrugged off his hold and spun around. His body filled the doorway. She tried to dart around him, but he caught and held her. “There’s nothing to fear.”

  “Are you insane? Your bedroom has a cliff in it.”

  “We’re well back from the edge.” He gestured around her. “Look.”

  “No.” She shoved at his chest. “Move.”

  He raised his hands and stepped aside. She darted around him. The curtain had dropped back into place, and she flung it out of the way. She sped through the doorway and back into Ivar’s cave with its big, hard walls—four of them, just as it should be.

  Movement behind her made her turn around. Ivar stood in the doorway, one hand holding back the curtain, his expression curious. “You said you served on a starship.”

  “Yes.”

  “How can someone who’s spent time on a ship be afraid of heights?”

  “It’s not the same.”

  He grunted and looked over his shoulder. He muffled voice drifted back to her. “I don’t see any difference.”

  “There’s a difference.”

  He turned back. His gaze moved over her face. Maybe it was just the torchlight, but his eyes looked softer. “You really are afraid, aren’t you?”

  She stiffened. “I’m not afraid. I just… I’m not fond of high places.”

  He seemed to consider that. “What if you stood in the doorway?” He patted the rock. “Nice and solid.”

  “No, thank you.”

  He studied her for a moment, then his chest lifted in a sigh. “Well, I guess I can’t show you, then. It’s a shame, because there’s nothing else like it on Tolbos.”

  What was he, a tour guide now? A planetary ambassador? She crossed her arms. His gaze dropped to her legs. She flung her hands to her sides and tugged her shirt down.

  He looked up and smiled, and that wicked dimple flashed again. Her stomach flipped. “Suit yourself,” he said, “but you’re missing out.”

  It was her turn to sigh. “I know what you’re doing.”

  “Oh? Enlighten me.”

  “You’re talking up your cliff—making it so irresistible I’ll have to come see it.”

  “Mmm. Is it working?”

  She didn’t want to smile. She tried to fight it, but he looked so hopeful, her lips curved against her will.

  “Come on, Na-dee-ya. I paid ten liters for you. I’m hardly going to toss you over the side.”

  She bit her lip. “The doorway and no closer?”

  He moved the curtain farther aside and extended his hand.

  She gazed at the doorway. She’d gone through it once before. She could handle standing in it. Like he said, it was nice and solid—carved from a freaking mountain. It didn’t get any steadier than that. She walked over and put her fingertips on the rock.

  He smiled. “Brave girl.”

  He was so close, she could feel the heat of his body. Her breath caught. He stared down at her, his arm still braced against the doorway where
he held the curtain. If she leaned in just a little, she could touch him. He took her hand and placed it on the curtain. “Hold this.”

  He stepped into the red-washed room. Her fingers curled into the fabric, which was still warm from his touch. She leaned forward, and red filled her vision. A long-forgotten memory rose in her mind—a teacher explaining that one of Tolbos’ suns orbited slightly higher than the other, which made the sunset last longer. Ivar was bathed in it now, his powerful frame limned in light.

  He walked across the room and lowered his big body to the edge. For a terrifying moment, she thought he’d slip off the side, but he just dangled his legs over the lip of the rock. He looked back, his face half in shadow. He patted the ground next to him. “Come sit.”

  “I can see just fine from here.”

  “Fair enough.” He faced forward. His muffled voice floated back to her. “But you’re missing a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”

  Nadia leaned farther into the room. The suns had dipped lower. The twin disks were unusual, but nothing spectacular. She’d spent most of the day sweating under them. “I don’t see anything.”

  His voice drifted toward her again. “No, you wouldn’t…from there.”

  She strained forward. What was so important that he needed her to see it? She let go of the curtain and took a few steps into the room. She stood on her tiptoes and craned her neck. Something—a flash—caught her eye. She shuffled a couple more steps. Another flash. Weird. She moved forward until she could see over the ledge.

  Beneath it, and all along the base of the mountain, lay a wasteland of twisted metal. It rose to the edge of the crater and in some places crested the side. “What is that?”

  “Garbage.”

  She crept forward. “From Earth?”

  Ivar turned. “Most of it. Some comes from passing starships.”

  She stepped closer. It wasn’t as high as she’d feared—maybe two hundred meters. She spied a tire in the mess below. There were also twisted chunks of metal she recognized as old cars, long since banned on Earth. As she watched, a small mountain toppled, sending garbage spilling onto the mound below it. The dying sunlight shone on everything, catching the odd bit of metal or glass. Narrow pathways bisected the yawning pit like bony fingers. “This is how you get the parts for the vehicles.”

  “Mmm. We also scavenge the transport pods when new prisoners are sent down. The instrument panels are usually still intact.”

  She pulled her gaze away from the garbage pit and looked at him. The suns had nearly set, taking the shadows with them and giving her a clear view of his face. “Is that what you were doing today? Before the auction?”

  He inclined his head. “Unfortunately, Axos got there first this time.”

  Axos. Not a name she cared to hear again. “I hope it blows up the first time he tries to power it on.”

  A smile, there and gone, flitted across his mouth. “That’s unlikely. He has to turn over anything he finds to his master.”

  “Because he’s a slave?”

  Ivar stood and walked to her. He stopped a few inches away, his arms relaxed at his sides. Behind him, the last sliver of sun disappeared beneath the horizon. “Does that surprise you?”

  “I’ve been surprised all day.”

  He grinned, and her stomach flip-flopped. Something made her think he wasn’t a man who smiled unless he was truly amused or delighted. He reached out and tugged a curl that had fallen over her shoulder. “Life is full of surprises, Na-dee-ya.”

  Warmth pooled in her belly. His fingers brushed the top of her breast through her shirt as he released her hair.

  “Yes,” she said, her voice husky in her ears.

  His gazed dropped to her mouth. “I have a proposition for you.”

  “What—” She cleared her throat. “What is it?”

  “Let’s talk about it in the other room.”

  Her pulse pounded in her throat, and she resisted the urge to cover it with her hand. Proposition had a very clear meaning. She stepped back. “Ivar—”

  “It’s all right. I’ll explain.” He motioned for her to precede him.

  She stared at his chest, which was directly at her eye level. His gaze warmed her skin—hotter than the suns that had so recently left the sky. He wanted her—his eyes had told her that. He’d bought her, as much as she hated admitting it—even to herself.

  But he hadn’t hurt her. She swallowed. It went against logic that he’d bother explaining himself if he planned to. With a final glance at his face, she turned and walked through the curtain. And there’s his oversize bed. She veered left and faced the weapon wall. Much better.

  He brushed past her and walked straight to his desk. Her pulse slowed. The desk—that was safe. Like they were having a meeting. She wandered closer. The shirt brushed the tops of her thighs. She tugged it down.

  His gaze tracked her movements before lifting to her face. “How much do you know about kaptum?”

  She relaxed a little. “I guess I know about as much as the next person.”

  He rounded the desk to stand before the weapon wall. He gazed up at it for a minute before selecting a knife and facing her. He flipped it up and caught it, the thick hilt smacking against his hand. “People think they know about kaptum.” He tossed it again—and caught it. His gaze met hers. “Then they land on Tolbos.”

  He flicked his wrist, and the knife flipped again. This time, he caught it and immediately flung it up again. The blade flashed. Up and down, up and down it went, hilt over blade. He caught it effortlessly, never taking his gaze off her face. She waited for him to make a mistake, to slice a finger off or drop the knife, but it just kept tumbling up and down in a steady rhythm.

  He snatched the knife from the air and squeezed the hilt. Immediately, the metal liquefied and flowed into the palm of his hand. “Kaptum,” he said, gazing down at the puddle of silvery liquid, “is a sentient substance. It’s a bit like a woman.”

  He smiled and rotated his hand, and the metal twisted and flowed sinuously up his wrist and curled around his tattooed biceps. “Pet it. Caress it. Make it feel special, and it will perform however you wish. Mistreat it or neglect it, and it will find interesting ways to punish you.”

  He opened his palm, and the kaptum flowed back down his arm and reformed into a blade. “It’s a physical connection, but it’s also mental. Most people who touch kaptum for the first time try to tell it what to do. Others are too soft, too subservient. Most never quite get the hang of it.” He flipped the blade a couple more times. Again his gaze met hers. “You have to strike the right balance between flattering it and mastering it.”

  Her breath hitched. She’d never thought of metal as sexy before, but the kaptum had curled around his arm like the hands of a lover, smoothing over the muscle in a long caress. And the way he’d said mastering, his stare leveled right at her, made it clear he wasn’t only talking about the knife. Did she want to be mastered by him? A few hours ago, that answer had been a definite no. Now…

  She shook her head a little to clear it. “I…” She glanced at the blade, which lay docile in his palm. “I’d only heard that it’s challenging to mine.”

  “Unbelievably so. It explodes when it gets too hot…or too cold. It’s notoriously volatile in liquid form. It can invade the body, killing a man from the inside out—a horrible way to die.” He looked down and tilted the blade, which caught the light from the torches. “In the right hands, however, it can be formed into nearly indestructible weapons.”

  Now, that she’d known. Kaptum’s shapeshifting ability was why the Council lusted after it. The part about it killing from the inside, though… The knife, which had moved so lovingly up its owner’s arm a moment ago, now seemed sinister.

  Ivar replaced it, then turned and walked to her. As he had in the room behind the curtain, he stopped mere inches away—close enough for her to feel the warmth of his body. His gaze moved over her hair before settling on her face. “Why are you here, Na-dee-ya?” The way
he said it, his voice soft, made it more of a verbal caress than a challenge.

  “I told you, I—”

  “It’s rare for the Council to send a woman. You’re the first in two years.”

  “Is that why…?” Her cheeks heated. “The auction?”

  “No. All prisoners are sold.”

  Disgust shivered through her. That meant all prisoners were slaves. “Why doesn’t the Council put a stop to it?”

  “They don’t care, not as long as the mines produce.” His gaze hardened. “Why do you think the Council’s behavior code is so unforgiving? It would cost a fortune to pay people to work here. Why bother when you have a steady supply of labor for free?”

  She couldn’t control her smile. “You think the Council created the code so it would have enough kaptum miners? Don’t you think that’s a little ridiculous?”

  “Is it ridiculous to jail people for swearing? The code was created a few years after the Council discovered kaptum on Tolbos. Awfully convenient, don’t you think?”

  His expression said he disapproved, but a few minutes ago he’d told her he and Porter scavenged the transport pods. He’d also been at the auction. She licked her lips. “You…”

  His gaze flicked to her mouth. “What?”

  “You bought me today. With water. You own slaves.” She exhaled when he looked up from her mouth.

  “This is a kaptum mine. The Council supply ships only drop food around the mines that produce. I need miners.”

  “But—”

  “I’m not the only warlord on Tolbos, Nadia. Change takes time. But you should know, I give all of my people the opportunity to earn their freedom.”

  “Why not just set them free after you buy them?”

  He didn’t answer for a minute. He rubbed a hand over his head and held it behind his neck. His gaze was steady as he said, “Think of the men you saw today. They’re criminals, and if they weren’t before, they are after a couple years on Tolbos. Most of them would slit your throat for a few canisters of water.”

  His words brought back memories of passing through the crowd, of dull stares roving down her body and unwanted touches on her skin. She shuddered.