Mastered By Love

by Tori Minard

  His stomach lurched. Injuries like that could be fatal.

  Don’t let her die. Don’t let her die. Don’t let her die.

  “Tariza. Sweetheart, wake up.” He stroked her cheek.

  She gave no response, no sign she had any awareness of him. She might never wake up. Sometimes people who’d suffered head injuries simply slipped away as they slept. Other times, they awoke but their minds were permanently damaged.

  Dario closed his eyes on a silent prayer. Please let her wake up whole. I love her.

  His whole being jolted at the realization. He loved her.

  He opened his eyes again. “Wake up now.” He tapped her cheek lightly. “Please wake up.”

  Her face looked as still and cold as a stone statue. What if she never regained consciousness, never came back to him?

  “Tariza, I need you. Don’t leave me.”

  Her eyelashes fluttered. His heart jumped at the sight. “That’s right. Wake up now.”

  As she opened her eyes, she groaned. Her gaze seemed unfocused, almost as if she wasn’t fully awake.

  “Can you hear me? Tariza, can you hear me?”

  “Yes,” she whispered, her gaze wandering aimlessly.

  “Do you know who I am?”

  Slowly, her gaze turned toward him. “Dario,” she said weakly.

  He smiled, caressing her cheek again. She hadn’t called him Master and he was glad. “That’s right, sweetheart.” He held up two fingers. “How many fingers is that?”

  “Two. Wha – What are you doing?”

  “You were hit in the head. Do you remember?”

  She frowned and gave another moan. “Goddess. It hurts.”

  “I know it does. Do you remember how it happened?”

  Her tongue emerged to run across her upper lip. “Lola. It was Lola and some other women. They dragged me out of the bathtub.”

  “Lola! Why would she attack you?”

  “She hates me. I told you.” Tariza lifted a hand to her forehead.

  And he hadn’t believed her. Hadn’t wanted it to be true. He’d been fooling himself all this time, lying to himself that she could fit in, that she would learn to adjust. He’d been a damned idiot. She would never fit in, even if she wanted to. The other slaves wouldn’t let her, judging by this incident.

  This attack only made him more determined to get her out of Saturnios. But first he had to treat her injuries.

  “Let me get some help up here for you.” He strode to the bell pull on the wall and rang for a servant before returning to her.

  “Dario, I think something is broken,” Tariza said.

  His stomach twisted. “Hell. I shouldn’t have moved you. Where is it?”

  She pointed to her ribs. “Here.”

  A servant arrived. Dario sent him off for the doctor and Mateo first, dinner second.

  His brother was the first to appear. Mateo entered without knocking and sauntered to the bed with a smirk. “You rang?”

  “Lola and her friends beat up Tariza,” Dario said flatly.

  Mateo laughed. “Right.”

  “This isn’t a joke, Mateo.”

  His brother’s eyes were filled with amused disbelief. “Lola couldn’t beat up anyone.”

  “Tariza was unconscious when I found her,” Dario said, glowering in irritation. Couldn’t Mateo see how hurt she was?

  “Probably faking it,” Mateo said with nonchalance.

  Dario pointed furiously at Tariza. “Are you saying she gave herself a concussion and a broken rib?”

  His brother paused and focused on the injured woman, really looking at her for the first time since entering the room. He bent over Tariza’s naked body, frowning. “She does look pretty bad, but I guarantee Lola didn’t do this. She doesn’t have the capacity for something like this. Besides, why would she bother?”

  “She hates me,” Tariza rasped.

  “So do a lot of other people, but you’re not accusing them of beating you up,” his brother said in a dismissive tone.

  Tariza turned a pained-looking gaze to the other man. “She said you can’t take him away from me.”

  Mateo snorted. “What does that even mean?”

  “Maybe she felt threatened because you kept Tariza with you while I was gone,” Dario said.

  Mateo shook his head. “I don’t believe it.”

  “I don’t care whether you believe it or not; I want her punished,” Dario told him.

  “I’m not going to punish her on the word of this Concordian bitch.”

  “Don’t speak of Tariza that way.”

  Mateo gave him an incredulous look. “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me. I won’t have my slave abused for any reason, physically or verbally.”

  “Damn, Dario. You have got it bad.”

  “If you won’t call Lola up here and question her, then I will.”

  Mateo’s laugh was just as incredulous as his facial expression. “You’re really serious about this, aren’t you?”

  “Yes. I am.”

  “Brother, think what Uncle Grasos will do if he finds out you took Tariza’s side over Lola’s. Believe me, it won’t go over well. He’s likely to take the whole thing out on your Concordian’s hide on the assumption she did something to deserve the attack. If I were you, I’d let it go.”

  “Let it go?” Dario growled. “So Lola and her little friends can do it again the next time I’m not around? They got into a locked room, Mateo. I don’t even know how they got the key.”

  “Better to risk that than to alert our uncle to the situation.”

  Dario glanced at Tariza. She stared up at the ceiling, her eyes unfocused again, as if she were lost or dreaming with her eyes open. Mateo was right. Grasos would likely use the incident as an excuse to brutalize Tariza all over again.

  They would have to leave the city, or at least the palace. He couldn’t keep her here if the other slaves were going to attack her. There was no place in the city where he could take her on a moment’s notice, so they’d have to pack up and head for his country house.

  Maybe you should let her go, take her back to Concordia.

  It was the right thing to do, the loving thing. He didn’t know if he had the strength.

  A more palatable plan was to attempt to reach Margelia and the Bellerenic embassy. Take her off-world. Build a new life with her somewhere people didn’t enslave each other.

  He fixed Mario with a narrow-eyed glare. “I’m going to talk to Lola. Not right now, but soon. And if I even suspect she’s guilty, I’m going to tan her backside. Don’t even think about trying to protect her.”

  Mateo threw up his hands. “All right. If she is guilty, you’re right to punish her.”

  Dario turned from him to stroke Tariza’s cheek and forehead. Her gaze returned to him and he gave a sigh of relief. She was still aware of her surroundings, then.

  He’d seen this kind of injury before, on the battlefield. Sometimes men with head injuries would seem to be fine but would go to sleep and never awaken. If that happened to Tariza ... His throat swelled so tightly that he couldn’t even swallow. If that happened to Tariza, he might not recover himself.

  The doctor arrived to bind her ribs and check her other injuries. There wasn’t much he could do, given the limits of Argelian technology. For the first time, Dario truly wished he were somewhere else. Anywhere else in the galaxy, Tariza would have had access to modern medicine, but not here. Not on good old Argelia, where they all liked to pretend they lived during Earth’s seventeenth century.

  Chapter 18

  When dinner arrived, Tariza was awake, yet she seemed dazed and only half-aware. Dario had to spoon feed her because she couldn’t seem to muster the energy to feed herself. He smiled for her sake, but inside he fought rising terror. Something was very wrong and he didn’t know what to do for her.

  He pulled some warm woolen robes from his wardrobe and brought them to the bed, where she sat propped up by a pile of pillows. She smiled vaguely at him a
s he lay them over her lap, her hand resting passively on top of the fabric. She didn’t seem to know or care what he wanted her to do with them.

  “Here,” he said, “I’ll help you.”

  “Help?”

  “You need to get dressed. Let’s get these on you.”

  She simply stared blankly at him.

  “Lift your arms, sweetheart.” He picked up the under-garment and found the neck-hole.

  Tariza lifted her arms and he slipped the dress over her head. She waited just as passively for him to help her with the next one. He didn’t like this. Her behavior was so atypical of her that it scared him. What if she’d sustained permanent damage to her mind from the head blow?

  As he was dressing her in the outer layer of robes, the door banged open hard. Mateo stormed in. “Uncle Grasos is on his way up here.”

  “Shit. Does he know?”

  “He knows.” Mateo’s pale-blue eyes were grim.

  “Why didn’t he just summon us?”

  Mateo shrugged. “How would I know? Maybe he wants to surprise you.”

  “I have to get Tariza out of here.” Instantaneously would be best, but since that was impossible, he’d have to settle for a quick dash into hiding.

  His brother’s dark brows raised. “You’re taking her away?”

  Dario met his gaze. “I’m not going to let him have her.”

  “I’ll delay him while you take her,” Mateo said, turning back toward the door. “Don’t tell me where you’re going.”

  “Why are you helping us? I thought you hated Tariza.”

  “She grew on me,” Mateo said with another shrug. “Besides, you’re my brother. I’m always on your side.” He opened the door and disappeared into the hallway.

  Dario turned to Tariza. She was frowning at him, looking more focused than she had since she’d awoken after the attack.

  “Sweet, we have to go.” At least he’d helped her dress already. “We’re going out the back way. Can you walk?”

  “I-I’ll try.”

  “Good girl.” He snagged his cloak from the bed where he’d left it and wrapped it around her. It was his thickest, lined with fur, and ought to keep her warm enough for a good long time. From his wardrobe, he took his second-warmest cloak and her winter clothing, the stuff she’d worn on the trail through the mountains. She could add the warmer clothes once they were away from the palace.

  Bundling it all together, he took her elbow and helped her to stand. “Let’s go, as fast as you can move.”

  She leaned on him, and he could see by her pained expression that it hurt her to move. But she walked, and much faster than he’d expected. For the first time, he was grateful for her warrior training. In spite of months of inactivity as his slave, she still had enough strength to push herself harder than any other woman he’d ever known.

  His quarters featured a hidden door to a narrow staircase that led to the stables, a bolt-hole to allow escape in case of attack. Unfortunately, his uncle knew of the staircase and door, but it would give them a little time to get out before the king could confront them. Dario pressed the recessed panel in the wall that operated the hidden door. It swung open, revealing the dark hole of the staircase.

  “Down here,” he said, holding the door open for her.

  Tariza preceded him into the hole without question. He followed, shutting the door carefully behind them. The stair smelled strongly of mildew and dust. No-one had been in here for years, apparently.

  He could see nothing in the dark, but Tariza didn’t complain about the blackness around them or the smell or anything else. She simply shuffled downward, on and on, Dario right on her heels. They went down for what felt like forever, until she stopped and he bumped into her.

  “We’ve reached the bottom,” she said in a weary voice. “I can’t get this door open.”

  “All right. Let me get it.” He reached around her and gave the handle a hard twist.

  The door creaked and squealed on un-oiled hinges as it swung open. The space beyond was dimly lit and smelled richly of horses and leather. They were in the tack room of the stables.

  The head groom, sitting on a stool in the corner, jumped to his feet with a nearly-comical expression of surprise. “Your Highness!”

  He needed to allay the groom’s suspicions, at least long enough so the fellow didn’t run immediately to report the event. Taking a slave out in this kind of weather, at this hour, was unusual, but he was a prince and entitled to a bit of eccentricity.

  “Hello, Tyro. I’m taking my slave out for an evening drive.” He winked conspiratorially at the man. “A special treat for a very good girl. Hitch up my carriage for me. I need it quick, now.”

  “Yes, milord.” The man gave Tariza an odd glance, but hurried to follow Dario’s orders.

  Dario’s carriage needed only one horse, so it was quick to ready and quick to drive. Unfortunately, it wouldn’t be as steady on icy roads, but he didn’t have time for a slower, more stable equipage. They had to get out of the palace and well on their way before his uncle sent men after them.

  Moments later, he was lifting Tariza into the passenger seat. He thanked the groom and swung up to take the reins. They rolled out into heavy snowfall, both a blessing and a curse. The snow would cover their tracks, making it harder for the royal guard to follow, but it would also make the vehicle harder for the horse to pull and it would put weight on the flimsy roof of the carriage. He’d have to stop every so often to brush it off.

  Dario urged the horse into a trot as they passed through the side gate and into the city beyond. The wheels skidded a little on the first corner, but he pressed forward without pause. They sped up one broad avenue and down another until the streets began to narrow and the buildings grew more modest.

  The thick snow had driven many people indoors, however there were still enough pedestrians about to identify the carriage if they happened to see the crest on its side. They’d have more time to get away if no-one knew who they were.

  Dario pulled the horses to a stop along a side street. He jumped out and ran around to the side of the carriage. The royal arms were highly visible on the side, fixed to the carriage wall as a painted medallion. He tore off his gloves, stuffed them in his pocket and pried off the medallion with his bare fingers. Then he tossed it in a nearby snowdrift.

  Better. At least they couldn’t be as easily identified now. He jumped back into the carriage and drove on with a sidelong glance at Tariza. She huddled on the seat next to him, the hood of his cloak pulled tightly around her face.

  “How are you doing?”

  “I’m all right,” she said faintly.

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’ll do. Why did we stop?”

  He told her about the coat of arms.

  “Smart.” She flashed him a smile.

  Her praise caused such a warm glow in his chest that he marveled at its heat. He’d never bothered trying to get the approval of a woman before and it was an unfamiliar sensation. Yes, he’d worked to give his slaves sexual satisfaction and he’d always treated them as gently as he could, but approval? That had been unnecessary, even undesirable.

  He found he wanted it from Tariza. Wanted her to look at him with admiration, not as a slave to a master but as one equal to another. It would be an attitude he’d have to cultivate if they were to live together on a world where men and women were legally equals.

  I don’t know how to live that way. What if we get off-world and I hurt her? What if I can’t change?

  The thought of hurting Tariza made him sick to his stomach. She’d be better off without him, better off free to find a man who knew how to treat women like her. Someone like Shadow, for example. But Shadow wasn’t here; she had only Dario and it was his job to save her life.

  He didn’t have time for this kind of worry. They had to get away before he did anything else, including useless hand-wringing.

  His plan at the moment consisted of driving in a circuitous route all over the
city, in order to shake off any pursuit, before finally leaving by one of the minor gates and heading for the summer hunting lodge of a friend of his. He could break in easily enough and Grasos would never think to look for him there. The house had a store of food, so they could survive there for a few months until the roads opened in spring and they could make their way to Margelia and the Bellerenic embassy. He hoped.

  The houses crowding the streets on either side went from modest and respectable to shabby and then downright ramshackle. In these darker parts of the city, ragged inhabitants still struggled through the snow or crouched in doorways, either because they had no place to go or because they were on some nefarious business best conducted in the chaos of a storm. Some of these people, their genders nearly obscured by all the layers of clothing they wore, cast inscrutable glances at Dario’s carriage. The vehicle might not bear the royal arms anymore, but it was nevertheless a richly appointed vehicle carrying two people wrapped in fur cloaks. He shouldn’t have come this deeply into the slums.

  He turned north, heading for a better neighborhood. A shadow passed overhead with a low whir of engines. Dario had an instant to wonder at the off-world sound of it before the shadow descended in front of him, blocking the narrow street and sending up swirling clouds of snow.

  The horse screamed, rearing in the traces. Shit. He couldn’t turn the carriage in this cramped lane. The gelding snorted and danced backward to get away from the float car. Tariza clutched the side of the carriage as Dario fought to bring the animal under control.

  Behind them came another whir of float car engines and more clouds of snow. This vehicle was louder than the first. The gelding bolted toward the first car, sending the carriage swaying wildly. The wheels skidded on the icy roadway and the whole structure leaned on its passenger side.

  “Dario!” Tariza called, clinging to the door as the carriage teetered.

  “Hang on! I’ll try to get it righted.” He leaned away from her, putting all his weight against the top side of the vehicle.

  But the air car’s doors slammed open and five slim figures, their faces obscured by heavy wrappings, jumped out brandishing Galactic needler guns. The extra movement sent the horse into another frenzied dance. The carriage swung in an arc as it crashed to the pavement. Tariza screamed.