by Tori Minard
“It’s going to be all right, little one,” he said.
He was deluding himself, of course, yet she didn’t bother correcting him. He wouldn’t believe her if she told him the truth – that it would never be all right. There was nothing in the universe that was all right for her and never would be again.
You’re just feeling sorry for yourself. Stop it.
People lived with slavery. They lived with even worse things. Some of them, the strong ones, escaped. Or if they couldn’t manage to escape, then they died trying.
She wasn’t finished. She didn’t have to placidly accept her situation, as if she were a tame cow and not a woman. She would escape. When Dario – Saturnios – fell asleep, she’d walk out into the snowy night and if it killed her she would still be satisfied, because she would die free and on her own terms.
Tariza dried her eyes on her sleeves. Hesitantly, she peered up at Saturnios. His dark eyes were full of concern and something else she couldn’t identify. Maybe it was sorrow, or tenderness. She didn’t want either from him.
“Someday, you’ll be happy,” he said. “You’ll adjust.”
She simply looked at him.
“Once you learn the rules, I won’t have to punish you.” He pushed a stray strand of hair from her eyes. “I’d like to mate with you, Tariza. Have children with you.”
Tariza blinked. He wanted to make her pregnant? To make her the mother of his children? Her womb gave an atavistic throb of enthusiasm at the same time as she mentally recoiled from the idea.
She’d planned to have children someday, of course, with a carefully selected male slave. Children for the Concordia dynasty. Not little boy tyrants and little girl slaves for Saturnios.
Dario was watching her face, studying her with a peculiar mix of anticipation and bashfulness. He probably expected her to jump up and cheer at the news. She cast around for something to say that wouldn’t alert him to her plan to leave.
“You will make beautiful children,” she finally offered.
He smiled. “You also. Our children, Tariza. They will be exceptional.”
“Yes. Um, yes, they will.” Goddess, she hoped he hadn’t already made her conceive. She wasn’t in her fertile time, however, so it was unlikely.
His smile turned into a cocky grin. “We’ll unite Saturnios and Concordia.”
Tariza turned her face away. Did he really expect her to celebrate with him?
Her legs were growing cold, exposed to the air as they were. She reached down and pulled her skirts over her bare skin. How could she raise a daughter in the Saturnian world? How could she allow a child of hers to be enslaved, used, kept prisoner by the men around her? She could hardly bear to think about it.
Dario’s fingers brushed along her cheekbone. “This disturbs you.”
“How perceptive you are.”
“It’s considered a great honor to be chosen for childbearing. Especially by a man of the royal house.” There was, oddly, no resentment in his tone, only a kind of wondering, as if he were trying to understand her position.
“My daughters would be slaves,” she said quietly.
“They wouldn’t know anything different. They’d be happy, I assure you.”
“How would you know that, Saturnios? Do slaves ever tell you the truth? Especially a truth you men would find uncomfortable, maybe even insulting? You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You tell me the truth.”
She turned her head to look at him. “That’s because I wasn’t raised here. I’m not beaten down by a lifetime of hearing how inferior I am.”
“We don’t consider women inferior.” He seemed perfectly serious.
She snorted. “Please.”
“They simply have a different role in life than men do. Are men considered inferior in Concordia?”
“Yes. Because they are.”
***
Dario slept, oblivious to the world. But Tariza was awake and she couldn’t waste the chance to run.
She also couldn’t find her extra layers – the petticoat, skirt and bodice they’d given her to wear. Paolo must have done something with them while she slept. The only garments she saw in the tent were the thin cotton undergown, socks and boots. And a coat.
She wouldn’t get far dressed like that. It was too cold and she didn’t know the country. But if she stayed here, there would only be more of the same – more spankings, more humiliation. And the farther they traveled into Saturnian territory, the less likely she’d be able to get away.
Now was the best time. Maybe the only time. It was worth the risk to be free.
She threw on the gown, coat and boots, and wrapped a muffler around her head and neck. There weren’t any gloves. She’d simply have to keep her hands in her pockets as much as possible.
Tariza paused at the tent flap to glance back at Dario in the bed. In the darkness, she couldn’t see more than the general bulk of his frame. What did he look like asleep? His lashes would make thick black fans against his golden skin, those luscious lips of his would be parted and –
By the Goddess, what tripe. Who cared what he looked like sleeping?
She forced herself to turn around and leave the tent, remembering to tie the flap closed before she left. Dario Saturnios was a beautiful man and he roused her as no other man ever had, but the honor of Concordia demanded she go. Even if the going killed her.
Outside, snow still fell thickly. The accumulation came halfway up her calves already, almost to the tops of her boots. A little moonlight seeped through the clouds and snow, just enough to let her make out the shapes of the tents and the darker circle of sheltering scrub.
Tariza made for the trees, such as they were. She was leaving an obvious trail, but that couldn’t be helped. With luck, they wouldn’t discover her gone until sunrise at least. By then, she’d be long gone or dead. And the relentless snow might just cover her tracks for her.
A hundred paces or so into the trees, the ground dropped sharply down on one side and climbed on the other. She had no stars by which to navigate and no way to know which way to turn, so she went down. It was easier and would give her a better head start.
The hem of her undergown trailed in the snow, gathering a coating of the icy white, while frigid winter air blew up under her skirt. She wouldn’t need much of a head start in this weather before honor would be satisfied.
At the bottom of the hill, something dark glimmered in the snow ahead of her. She turned to avoid it. Could be water, something she didn’t want to fall in regardless of her fatalistic embrace of death. No reason to hurry things along that much.
Tariza skirted the little pool or whatever it was, her steps careful and slow on the stony ground. But the rocks here were slick with ice and her feet slid out from under her, dumping her in the glacial water.
She landed on her hands and knees in the pool, soaking herself from neck to toes. Her breath froze in her throat at the shock and pain of it. Tariza floundered in the water, splashing, struggling to get her feet beneath her again.
The intense cold made her clumsy. She crawled out, the snow painful on her bare palms. Her movements were so slow, as if she were still under water. She wasn’t even shivering, couldn’t feel the cold anymore except on her hands. But she was tired.
Move. It was vital to keep moving. But she was so tired.
A moment’s rest and then she’d pick herself up and keep moving. Her body sagged face down into the snow. An odd sense of warmth and peace came over her and she relaxed. Distantly, she wondered if she was dying and she smiled.
Honor is satisfied.
***
Dario woke up with icy air biting his nose. Beneath the blankets, he was warm and relaxed, in defiance of the snowy mountain night. All he needed now was a soft, warm slave in his arms. He reached out to draw Tariza into his embrace. His hand met nothing but empty bed.
He bolted straight up on the cot. She was gone. He could see nothing in the chill darkness, so he fumbled o
n the floor until he found his lamp and flint. The lighted lamp showed that she was in fact gone.
“Goddamn little Concordian,” he muttered. “What the hell is she thinking?”
It was too cold out there for her. She didn’t know these mountains, although she must understand mountain lore, being from Concordia. Still, only a fool would venture out alone on a night like this ... and Tariza was no fool.
At one time, he would have thought any woman silly and empty-headed. In the short time he’d known her, Tariza had given him a glimpse into her mind and it was clear she was just as capable of rational thought as any man he’d ever known. So why would she do something so utterly stupid?
She wants to die.
He paused in pulling on his trousers. Surely it wasn’t true. She was having trouble adjusting, yes, but that was only natural. He’d given her orgasms, made sure she found as much pleasure in his body as he did in hers. He’d treated her gently, looked after her well-being, even removed the harness out of concern for her emotional state.
You spanked her.
Was she truly so proud she’d rather die than be spanked? It seemed such an exaggerated reaction. He’d trained a couple of non-Saturnian women in Saturnian ways, and they hadn’t responded so violently. But they hadn’t been Concordians.
He grabbed his boots and stuffed his feet inside, glancing around the lamp-lit tent at the same time. Her clothing and boots were missing as well, so maybe he was wrong. Maybe she didn’t want to die, just escape.
With his hat jammed on his head, his hands encased in gloves and face obscured by a thick muffler, he caught up the lamp and opened the tent flap. A gust of wind blew sharp flakes of icy snow into his eyes as he stepped outside.
He swore under his breath, fumbled with the tie on the flap, his movements hampered by the lamp in his left hand. Finally he got the thing tied down. No sense in leaving it open so the wind could blow his tent full of snow while he was gone.
Clear footprints led away from his tent into the scrub trees bordering the little camp. The deep indentations had already been softened and partly covered by falling snow. They were still obvious, but judging by the amount of snow blurring them, she’d left some time ago – plenty of time to get into serious trouble.
Dario swore again as he set off along her trail. He could’ve used a horse. There was no telling how far she’d gotten and he might need help getting her back to camp. Yet he didn’t want to overtire any of the mounts; they had a long ride ahead of them in the morning and the horses would need all their energy for the journey.
The selfish little tramp should’ve thought of that when she ran off. She ought to have considered how her actions were going to affect other people, and the animals as well. But she didn’t care, apparently. Not Princess Tariza. No. Her needs came before everyone else.
He plunged into the scrubby trees. They were too small to provide any kind of shield from the falling snow and the accumulated drifts came up to his knees, forcing him to wade awkwardly through the icy whiteness. Clumps of snow fell over the tops of his boots and melted against his trousers.
“When I get hold of her, I’m going to beat some sense into her,” he grumbled into the winter stillness. “After this, she won’t dare step outside my tent without permission.”
Her tracks led downhill, but not in the direction from which the party had come. The prints seemed to follow the easiest way cross-country, rather than going in any particular direction. Of course, since it was dark and completely overcast, he had no way of knowing for sure.
They wended their way around rocky outcroppings and fallen logs, always heading down. She wasn’t trying to get anywhere in particular. Just away. From him.
Dario felt an unfamiliar sinking in his chest as the thought came to him. She was running away from him. Then he stepped into a small depression in the ground, obscured by drifted snow, and sank into freezing cold up to his waist.
“Goddamned spoiled little bitch!”
He floundered, getting more of the icy stuff into his boots, caked on his trousers, up his sleeves and down the collar of his jacket. The cold burned against his skin. He dropped the lamp and the little flame went out.
Dario snarled in frustration. He reached out to one side and then the other, fumbling for some solid object he could use to drag himself out of the all-enveloping snowdrift. His hand brushed a lump of something soft.
Not snow. Fabric. He lifted his head, squinting through the gloom. A ragged bundle of something lay half-sunken in the drift, its dark color almost hidden by fallen snow.
“Tariza?” he said aloud.
No answer. Dario floundered through the cold white, his motions like swimming, until he came abreast of the mysterious bundle. The thin moonlight filtering through the clouds showed him the vague outlines of a woman’s face. Light hair. It could only be her.
With stiff fingers, he pushed the snow and ice encrusted hair from her face. Tariza, her skin bluish-white with cold. Her garments, he realized, were also crusted with ice. She’d gotten wet somehow. Soaking wet. His fury vanished, replaced by driving terror.
“Tariza. Tariza, wake up.” He shook her.
“Warm now,” she murmured, the syllables blurred. “Sleep.”
She was in real danger. Victims of the cold often imagined themselves warm just before they succumbed.
“No. You can’t sleep.”
He grabbed her, turned her face-up. Then he slipped an arm around her chest and under her arms, as if she were a drowning swimmer. With a mighty heave, he dragged her toward the edge of the drift. At least he thought it was the edge.
She wasn’t very heavy. Yet the weight of her was enough – nearly – to anchor him in the cruel snow. He fixed his gaze on the dark vertical slash of a nearby tree. Just a few more feet and they’d be free.
“Leave me,” she said. “Die.”
“I’m not going to let you die.”
He needed her to live, although he couldn’t explain why. She was disrespectful, argumentative, arrogant. The daughter of Saturnios’s sworn enemy. But he wouldn’t leave her here.
His gaze fell on a dark pool of water an arm’s length away from where she’d fallen. She must have stumbled into the water and the wet had intensified the cold. He’d gotten to her just in time. If he didn’t get her warmed up soon, though, she could still die.
Dario heaved again, pushing hard with his legs until he broke free of the heaviest drifts. He shook Tariza, pulling her up against him until she was on her feet. Her head lolled against his chest, her arms hung limply, but she was on her feet.
“You’re going to live,” he barked. “Now walk.”
They stumbled and staggered their way up the hill. Just enough moonlight reflected off the snow to show him the trail they’d already broken, and he used it to make the going easier. Twice, Tariza stumbled and fell to her knees, requiring him to pull her upright again.
By the time they made it to the top of the hill, he’d broken into a sweat beneath his clothes. It was lucky for both of them that she’d collapsed relatively close to the encampment.
“Paolo!” he bellowed as they reached the huddled circle of tents. “Paolo! Get up!”
He staggered into his own tent and let Tariza sink to the floor next to the bed. Leaning over her, he began to unwrap her clothes.
The air in the tent was frigid, but he had to get her out of her wet things before the combination of damp and cold killed her. She began to shiver so violently her teeth clicked together. He got her coat off and found the dress beneath soaked with melted snow. She had on none of the layers she’d been given as protection against the cold – just a thin cotton dress and a coat.
Dario stuck his head out of the tent. “Paolo, goddamn it, get out here!”
He returned to stripping his unmanageable slave. He got her boots and socks off, then her dress. Her skin felt cold to the touch.
As he lifted her onto the bed, the tent flap opened and Paolo stuck his head inside. “
What is it, milord?” he said, his voice bleary with sleep.
“Light the travel stove and heat some tea. Tariza has taken a deadly chill.” Dario tucked the blankets close around her and began removing his own clothes.
“How did that happen?” Paolo opened Dario’s saddlebags.
“She tried to escape.” He stripped off his jacket.
“Maybe you should’ve left her out there,” his squire muttered, taking the little travel stove from a saddlebag.
Mateo would probably have said the same thing. Dario’s friends would agree. So why was he yanking off his clothes in a frenzied rush to get in bed with her – not for sex, but in order to share his precious body heat with her?
Nothing he’d done with regard to Tariza had been sensible. Dario took off his trousers and climbed into bed. He gathered her chill and shivering form against him, tucked the blankets around them both. She would live. He wouldn’t accept any other outcome.
“Where’s the lamp?” Paolo said.
“I dropped it in the woods. Use the other one.”
More fumbling and muffled swearing ensued before the boy finally had the lamp and the stove lit. Dario watched his squire fill a tin mug with packed snow and set it on the stove to heat.
In Dario’s arms, Tariza murmured. He looked down to see her lashes fluttering. She opened her eyes and gazed blankly at him for a moment. Then her lids lowered and she seemed to fall asleep.
“She’s more trouble than she’s worth,” Paolo said.
“Just do your job, boy.”
His squire pressed his lips together and didn’t answer. He was probably right, but Dario didn’t want to hear it. She was his. His to protect, his to nurture, his to enjoy. He wouldn’t leave her to die.
But would you do the same for any other slave?
He’d never known a slave to run off like this. Sure, occasionally one attempted to leave her master, but not in such an openly suicidal manner. Therefore the issue had never arisen.
You can lie to the king, even to Mateo or Paolo, but don’t lie to yourself.