Mastered By Love (31 page)

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 as 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.

The sound froze his heart.
God, if he lost her ....He couldn’t lose her, couldn’t bear it. He
loved her.

“
Tariza!” He couldn’t see
her in the darkness. He reached out into the pit that the carriage
had become, reaching down, his fingers outstretched, trying to feel
her so he could get a grip on her and pull her up.

“
Freeze!” a feminine voice
shouted. “Come out of the carriage with your hands up.”

She sounded just like a
character in some Galactic adventure vid.
Galactic Peacemakers
or some such
garbage. Where had they come from?

They could only be Concordians, or
agents for Concordia at any rate. They must be looking to take back
their princess.

“
She’s trapped under the
carriage,” he shouted.

“
Come out of there or we’ll
shoot! We are armed with needlers and we won’t hesitate to shoot
you.”

They were wasting precious
time that Tariza could ill afford. But if they shot him with
needlers, he’d die and then he’d be of no use to her. Cursing under
his breath, he unlatched the door and shoved his way through. All
its weight hung down on him because of the carriage’s position on
its side.

“
Don’t shoot. I’m coming
out,” he said as he pushed it open like a hatch.

He clambered from the
vehicle and dropped to the snowy street. The carriage wheels had
wedged against the stone wall of the nearest building, but the
narrowness of the street hadn’t stopped the thing from falling on
Tariza. God! She was under that thing, pinned, with a head injury
and God only knew what else.

Two of the armed women –
Concordians, surely – rushed forward with the nasty muzzles of
their needlers pointed right at his chest. “Don’t move,” one of
them said.