Mastered By Love (35 page)

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.”