by Tori Minard
Tariza’s shoulders slumped. She never should have opened her mouth.
“How could you miss him? After what he did to you?”
“I knew you wouldn’t understand.”
Lenora paced along the side of Tariza’s bed. “They broke your will, your spirit. That’s the only explanation.” She glanced sidelong at Tariza. “You began to believe their lies. I’ve heard of that happening to prisoners of war.”
“He didn’t break my will.”
Are you sure about that?
Her sister quit pacing to take Tariza’s good hand in both of hers. “He wronged you terribly. He’s a criminal, from a barbaric society. He hurt you, Tariza. There’s no reason to miss him.”
“It wasn’t like that. He protected me.”
“He kidnapped you.”
“Yes, but he did it to keep his uncle from getting hold of me.” She squeezed Lenora’s hands. “King Grasos wanted me for his personal slave, and he truly abuses women. I saw one of his victims. She – she’s Concordian, Lenora. He made her into something that didn’t even seem human. She was broken. Dario kept me safe from that.”
Lenora gave her a level stare, her brown eyes unflinching. “He could have warned you. He didn’t have to kidnap you.”
She closed her eyes. “That’s true.”
He’d desired her for himself. He’d said it more than once. But she couldn’t – she just couldn’t – regret being with him. Maybe it was wrong; maybe it was vile of her to feel this way. Maybe there was something broken in her, too, but that didn’t change the fact that she loved Dario. She wanted him back.
“Come down to the great hall with me,” Lenora said with a little tug on her hands. “You need to get out of this room, spend time with other women. You need a good Concordian feast to take your mind off all this.”
She’d been refusing all efforts to get her out of her room. She didn’t want to see anyone except Dario. But he was gone and she had to start living again. What could a visit to the great hall really hurt? At least if she made an effort, Lenora would stop pestering her.
“All right. Yes, I’ll come.”
“Wonderful!” Lenora beamed. “And when you feel well enough, you can take lessons in flying the float cars. They’re even more fun than racing on horseback.”
The great hall seemed noisier than she remembered. Lenora had helped her dress in her favorite winter gown in honor of the holiday they were preparing to celebrate. It was pale blue wool with deep purple trim and had a row of matching purple buttons down the front. Her hair was pulled up and coiled on her head, her broken arm in a decorative sling, and she looked more like a princess than she had in months – since long before Dario had taken her.
Everyone in the hall was dressed for festivities. Garlands of evergreen boughs dotted with winter flowers ran the length of the feast tables and in loops along the walls. The whole room smelled like the winter woods. In a few weeks, they’d celebrate the Breaking Of Winter’s Back. For now, they still reveled in the heart of winter.
When the women saw Tariza, a cheer went up. Even the slaves were smiling. She flushed.
The slaves. Her gaze fell on the men in the room, all of them on their knees, their eyes trained on the floor. Their smiles were aimed at the floor, not at her, because they weren’t allowed to look directly at her without her express permission. Just like the female slaves in Saturnios.
A weird sense of kinship came over her, as if she belonged on her knees too. As if she had more in common with those collared men than with the other women in the room. Tariza’s gait faltered. She hesitated in the center of the hall, trembling, wanting to look down. It didn’t feel right anymore to keep her head up, even though she knew that it was expected here in her homeland.
Lenora took her by the elbow. “It’s safe. Let’s go to the table and sit down.”
“Yes. All right.”
She allowed her sister to lead her to the head table. Her knees began to bend as she prepared to sink to her place on the floor. A slave jumped to his feet and pulled out her chair for her.
Tariza startled. He wanted her to sit in the chair. The chair?
You’re not in Saturnios. Sit in the chair.
“Thank you,” she murmured to him.
Lenora shot her a startled glance. Oh, dear. Slaves were never thanked. Tariza flushed again and sat, hoping no-one else had noticed her blunder.
She looked at the slave. He’d resumed a kneeling position, head slightly bowed, but his eyes tracked back and forth as if he were trying to understand what she’d just done. Probably no woman had ever thanked him until now.
What was his name? She couldn’t remember it. He was handsome, with curly brown hair and dark blue eyes. She might have wanted him, before. Now, she couldn’t even think of being with any man but Dario.
Dario is gone. You’ll never have him again.
Pain shot through her at that thought, making her lips press together in a hard line. She looked down at the table top, pretending to study the floral arrangement so no-one could see her face. This was supposed to be a happy time, a celebration. Her grief, if she allowed it to show, would ruin the festivities for everyone else.
“Do you like him?” Lenora said, nodding toward the slave. “I picked him for you. I thought sex with a fine slave would cheer you up.”
Tariza froze in her seat. She sent a secret glance at the man next to her. His eyes were properly downcast, his body quiet. Waiting. Waiting for her approval.
Her whole body flooded with embarrassed heat. “I – he’s very – no, I couldn’t.”
The slave flushed a brilliant red.
“You don’t like him?” Lenora said. “We can find another.”
“No. He’s very handsome. I’m just not feeling well. I haven’t wanted ... not since... .”
“Oh.” Now it was Lenora’s turn to blush. “I hadn’t thought about that. Are you sure it wouldn’t help you forget?”
I don’t want to forget.
“I really don’t think I can. Maybe later. Some other time.”
“All right.” Her sister nodded. “It’s up to you. I don’t want to push you.”
She forced a smile. “I am trying, Lenora. Eventually I’ll be back to normal. But not today.” Tariza petted the slave’s hair. “I’ll keep this one in mind. What’s his name?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t ask.”
“What’s your name, pet?” she said softly.
“Boy,” he said.
Boy? That wasn’t a name. She flushed all over again. What was wrong with this place, that they would give a man a name like that? Goddess, she wanted to leave the palace, leave the city, go somewhere that had no slavery at all.
She swallowed, her hand still stroking Boy’s hair. “You’re quite beautiful. I’m glad you’re here.”
He smiled, the tension leaving his body. “I’m glad I please you, Mistress.”
Would she ever be able to enjoy herself with him, or any other man? The thought of taking a man who lay chained to a table or the floor did nothing to arouse her. It made her sad.
Women she’d known since childhood crowded around her, smiling and laughing, teasing her about the slave she had kneeling at her feet. Some of them slipped little welcome-home gifts wrapped in bits of pretty fabric into her hand. She smiled back, thanked them. But inside, she was dying.
Had Dario wronged her? Was she broken? Was that the reason she longed for him – not because of love but because something was wrong with her mind?
Goddess, she didn’t know. She didn’t even know how to find out what was truth and what was illusion.
***
Dario’s cock hurt. They’d given him the drug again, the one that gave him a raging erection that wouldn’t go down no matter if he came or not. The jailer had bathed him with her own hands and rubbed oil into his skin before sending him upstairs with Rosaria. Now he lay chained on a platform made for fucking, his cock jutting into the air while the woman who’d summoned
him stalked around him, watching him.
She was one of the queen’s advisors. He didn’t even know her name. She had long, brown hair liberally salted with gray, a striking face and handsome body with generous breasts.
The woman trailed her hand over his chest and belly, moving down toward his sex. “So beautiful.”
He said nothing.
She bent her head and took the tip of his cock into her mouth. He gasped at the hot, wet contact. These Concordian women always seemed to enjoy teasing him with their mouths. They’d give him a few moments of pleasure but never allowed him to come that way.
She released him long enough to speak. “Beg me.”
He shut his eyes. He wouldn’t beg. She could chain him to the platform and force him to service her, but he wouldn’t beg.
She bit his cock. Hard. He gave a shout of pain.
“Beg me.” Her teeth dug into his tender skin again. Was she going to bite all the way through it?
“Ah, God! Please.” He flushed wish shame.
“Say it again.”
“Please.” He didn’t even know what he was supposed to be requesting.
“That’s better, slave,” she murmured, her voice smug.
He should have let her bite it off. Then they couldn’t use him anymore.
The woman left his cock and climbed onto the platform. She leaned over him, her naked breasts dangling in his face, big brown nipples hard and eager. She lifted one to his mouth.
“Suck.”
He took her nipple into his mouth. He wasn’t aroused in any normal sense, didn’t want to have sex with this female. Her moans of pleasure as he suckled her did nothing to excite him.
Tariza’s face appeared in his mind’s eye, open-mouthed and awash in ecstasy. He could almost hear her soft cries, feel her arms around him. She was the only one he wanted. She was the woman who visited him in his dreams, where she still desired him, where she loved him.
The advisor removed her breast from his mouth and straddled his face, instructing him to lick her. He’d tried pretending that whatever woman was currently taking him was Tariza, but it never worked. They never smelled or tasted right, and the sad pretense only made him hurt more deeply.
When she rode him, he didn’t look at her. This time, she didn’t force him. She let him close his eyes and try to send his mind somewhere else while she claimed her orgasm.
She dismounted and walked out without a word of farewell. A few minutes later, Rosaria came in and unchained him. She handed him a tunic before leading him out of the sex room.
He was glad to descend into the dark damp of the prison. His cell felt familiar. Almost safe. The sound of the door clanging shut was a relief because it meant he wouldn’t be molested for a while.
Dario sank to the floor, staying near the door so he’d have a little light. He leaned his head against the hard, cold wall, his hands braced on the floor.
Tariza. Why had she changed her mind about him? Had everything they’d shared in Saturnios been a lie? Maybe she’d only pretended to care for him out of self-preservation.
Memories of the oiled slaves in the great hall bubbled up unbidden, making him flush hotly even in the chill of the prison. What a person said and did while under duress, while being sexually forced, didn’t necessarily have anything to do with her – or his – true feelings. He knew that now.
How could you think she cared for you after what you did to her? You’re as bad as these Concordians.
The pain of that truth made everything inside him ache.
He conjured up her form again, wishing he could touch her, feel her soft skin under his hands, her lips on his. They wanted to make him into one of their slaves, make him submit to them, make him obedient and afraid. But Tariza was the only woman he would ever belong to. She had his name tattooed on her arm, but he belonged to her too, just as Shadow Black had implied that long-ago night.
His fingers nudged something cold and hard that wasn’t part of the floor. It was metal. He peered down at the object.
A folding knife. One of the guards must have dropped it; maybe it had fallen out of a pocket. Dario picked it up and opened it.
The blade was small, only a couple of inches long. Quite sharp but not big enough to use as a weapon. He cradled it in his hand, staring at the silvery blade.
Idly, he lifted the sharp tip to his inner forearm and pressed it into his skin. It made a clean, linear cut. He turned the blade and created a horizontal line at the top of the first cut. Now he had the first letter of Tariza’s name in his skin.
Dario stared at the bleeding, burning cut with satisfaction. Her name, her possession. Even if she rejected him, it would always be true in his heart, and now he had part of her engraved on his arm. He continued cutting.
***
Sweat soaked Tariza’s clothes and hair. In spite of the chilly air in the exercise chamber, she felt hot, her muscles flushed with blood. It was good to move her body, to push herself physically after such a long period of inactivity.
She mopped her forehead with a rag, glad she’d finished her exercises for the day. Her strength was starting to come back, even in her broken arm. Soon she’d be able to take part in sparring practice and other fighting exercises. Too bad she didn’t want to anymore.
She was done being the crown princess.
Lenora grinned and clapped her on the back. “You’re getting better.”
“Yes.”
“Pretty soon, you’ll be taking over your old duties.”
She glanced at her sister. “I don’t know, Lenora.”
“Of course you will. You’ll see. Everything will go back to normal.”
“No, it won’t.”
Lenora frowned. “Why not? You’re healed. There’s nothing stopping you.”
“I’m stopping.”
“I don’t understand.” Her sister continued to frown at her, obviously baffled.
“I don’t want to be the crown princess,” Tariza said. “I’m stepping down.”
Lenora gaped at her. “What?”
“You’re better suited to the position than I am, anyway. You always have been. You’re better at politics and strategy than I am.”
“That isn’t true.”
“Yes, it is, and you know it. The only reason I was given the position is because I happened to be born first.” Tariza shrugged. “I’m not going to pretend anymore. I’m not suited to be a queen.”
“But –”
“All I ever wanted to do was raise horses and sing. I never wanted to be queen.”
Her sister looked utterly befuddled. “Why not?”
“See?” She smiled. “You want it.”
“No.” Lenora shook her head emphatically. “I never wanted to supplant you. I never envied your position.”
“To your credit.” She draped her good arm around Lenora’s shoulders. “But I think you’ll be a wonderful queen, once you get used to the idea.”
“What will Mother say?” Lenora gave her a significant look.
“She’ll probably fall to her knees and thank the Goddess.”
Her sister laid her hand over Tariza’s. “That isn’t fair. Mother loves you.”
“Maybe so, but she’s always despaired of me as Concordia’s leader.” She squeezed her sister’s shoulders. “You’ll see. She’ll be pleased.”
“I just can’t believe it.”
“Believe.” She let out a relieved breath, glad she’d finally told someone. Not her mother; not yet. But someone. Her intentions were no longer her secret.
One of the guards, a black-haired woman with a scarred face, strode into the training room and caught Tariza’s eye. “Your Highness, may I have a word with you?”
“Yes, certainly.” She dropped her arm from around her sister’s shoulders.
“I’d better go get cleaned up,” Lenora said, and headed for the door.
Tariza turned toward the guard. “You’re Captain Rosaria, correct?”
“Yes, Your Highness,
” Rosaria said with a pleased expression. “I’m honored you remember me.”
She smiled. “You showed me the ropes on my first mission.” She’d never forget the people who’d helped her on that momentous occasion when she’d first spread her wings.
“Yes. I was impressed with your dedication.”
But not her skill. Duty might have insisted Tariza be a warrior, but it wasn’t her calling and neither was the monarchy.
“What do you have for me, Captain?”
“There’s something I think you should see.” Rosaria spoke in hushed tones, as if she feared someone might hear. “A slave.”
Tariza frowned. “What slave?”
“You know him, I believe. The former Dario Saturnios.”
Chapter 23
Tariza’s mouth dropped open as she stared, uncomprehending, at the guard. Rosaria couldn’t have said what she thought she heard. “Dario Saturnios is dead,” she said, her voice strangely unemotional.
“No, Your Highness. He’s been held in my prison for weeks.”
Tariza’s knees threatened to give way. She leaned against the wall for support. Dario was alive. He was alive and here in Concordia. She blinked rapidly as her eyes began to sting.
“They told me ... they let me believe he was dead.” Her voice cracked.
“I’m sorry, Your Highness. I had no idea.”
How well could she trust this woman? Would Rosaria report this conversation to her superior? To the queen? If she knew Tariza loved the Saturnian prince, would she report that?
Nothing would keep her from Dario now, but something told her it would be wise to conceal her true feelings for him until they were alone together. She had to get him out of prison. No, out of Concordia.
Dario Saturnios would never be safe in her native kingdom. Her people would gladly tear him apart if given the chance, even if he hadn’t kidnapped her. Being a member of the royal family of Saturnios was crime enough in their view. She’d have to sneak him out, and if he left, she was going with him.
Even back to Saturnios?
Yes. Even there. She’d rather be his slave than live without him.