Mastered By Love (36 page)

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.”

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.

Before she could get him
out of the country, however, she needed to have him released from
prison. Take him to her own quarters, make sure he was in good
health. Goddess. Dario was alive. Her heart began to skip and race
and her palms grew damp. It had been so long since she’d seen him.
So long since she’d thought she lost him forever.

She straightened, lifting
her chin. “Where is he now? Take me to him.”

“
Is that what you truly
want?” Rosaria said with a skeptical expression. “He’s a dangerous
man. If you give me some time, I can arrange for several more
guards to be there for protection.”

“
Now, Rosaria.”

The guard bowed her head.
“Yes, Your Highness.”

The two women marched
through the castle toward the prison. Tariza hadn’t been down there
in quite some time. There hadn’t been a need.

The prison was a dark, dank place
seldom used except for the worst-behaved slaves. It was a place to
break spirits, and bones. A place of despair.

That Dario had been kept
here, in this awful pit, for so long – it made her sick to think of
him trapped in the darkness alone. He must have thought she didn’t
want him. Maybe he even thought she’d been the one to send him
here. She had to force herself not to run to him, to use cool and
measured steps, as if he meant nothing to her.

Her boots echoed on the
rough flagstones as she followed Rosaria and her lantern down the
narrow corridor, past one empty cell after another. They’d had
Dario here for weeks. Weeks, and she hadn’t known about it. How
could her mother, her sister, have done this to her?

Rosaria stopped in front of the last
cell in the row. She unlocked the door. It squealed loudly as it
swung open.

“
Dario, there’s someone
here to see you,” the guard said.

There was no reply from inside the
cell. Rosaria motioned her in, holding the lantern high. Both women
entered the rank-smelling little room.

The light fell on a man
huddled in the corner, shaggy black hair covering his face. He had
several days’ growth of beard and wore a ragged slave tunic, but
she knew him. She would always know him.

***

It was
cold in Dario’s cell – it was always cold – yet he felt hot,
sweaty, disoriented. A moment ago, he’d shivered with chills. He
pushed the rough blanket off his shoulders. His arm hurt where he’d
cut it.

Pain was good. Pain reminded him of
what was really important, of the debt he had to pay to Tariza. It
reminded him why he was down here in this pit of hell.

He didn’t know if he’d ever
be done paying. He didn’t know if it was possible to make amends
for what he’d done. Probably not. As sick as he was, he probably
wouldn’t last much longer.

In the corridor, footsteps.
Two people coming toward him. He rested his forehead on his drawn
up knees. He didn’t want to see them, whoever they were. He wanted
to be alone.

They would probably force the drug on
him again and drag him upstairs to service some nameless
woman.

The door squealed open.
Rosaria said something, but he didn’t hear her words. They rattled
meaninglessly around the hard walls of the cell and made his head
ache.

“
Dario?” said a second
female.

His breath caught. That
voice – it sounded exactly like Tariza. But that wasn’t possible.
She would never come down here to see him.

He lifted his head and
squinted into the bright light of Rosaria’s lantern. “Tariza?” he
said, knowing it couldn’t be her.

She couldn’t be real. He
was imagining things again.

The owner of the voice took
a couple of halting steps toward him. “Goddess,” she whispered into
the dark. “I thought you were dead.”

She sounded so much like
Tariza. If only it could be her. He could let her know how much he
regretted what he’d done to her, ask for her forgiveness before he
died.

The unknown woman stopped right in
front of him, crouched down and put her hand on his shoulder. She
even smelled like Tariza. Dario reached out and touched her face,
felt her smooth skin beneath his fingertips. So
familiar.

“
Your Highness,” Rosaria
said sharply, starting forward as if to intervene.

“
It’s all right. He won’t
hurt me.” It was Tariza’s voice. It had to be.

The guard stopped. Dario
began to pant against the emotion rising in his chest. His fingers
continued to travel over the woman’s face, her face.
Tariza.

“
I’m dreaming,” Dario
said.

“
No,” Tariza said. “You’re
not dreaming. You’re awake.”

Slowly he drew his thumb
back and forth across the high ridge of her cheekbone. “You really
are Tariza?”

“
Yes.” She laughed a
little. “I’m here.”

Dario stroked her again in
wonderment. “You’re really here.” Then he frowned, remembering what
they’d told him. “Why? Why did you come?”

“
To take you out of here,
of course. I’m going to bring you to my quarters.”

“
Your Highness,” Rosaria
protested. “He’s wild, untamed. It wouldn’t be safe.”

Tariza lifted her head. “I
want him in my quarters and that’s where I’ll have him. He won’t be
servicing the court anymore. He’ll be mine.”

Her voice was devoid of affection. She
wanted him, but not as they were before. He was to be her slave,
then. He bowed his head. It was justice and better than he
deserved.

“
Thank you,” he said in a
low voice.

“
There’s nothing to thank
me for,” Tariza said. “You’re going to personally make up for
everything you did to me.”

They’d been right. She
hated him. That hurt; yet if he could be with her, he could bear
her hatred. As long as they were together, he could bear
it.

Rosaria cleared her throat.
“Your Highness, I suggest you have a look at his arm.”

“
His arm?” Tariza
said.

“
Yes, Your Highness.” The
guard came forward. She leaned down and grabbed Dario’s left arm,
turning it to display his inner forearm where he’d cut
himself.

The lantern light showed
all the markings he’d made on his skin, a pattern of linear welts,
red and angry. The whole area looked swollen, the skin shiny and
tight. It was infected; he knew that and until this moment he
hadn’t cared.

Tariza stared, frowning, at
Dario’s face. “You carved my name into your arm?”

“
I belong to you.” His
voice sounded rough, scratchy. He took her right arm, where he’d
tattooed her. “Only you. Now we’re both marked.”

“
Goddess,” she whispered.
“Oh, Dario.”

“
They can take me, but they
can’t make me theirs. I belong to you.”

“
Take you?” She glanced up
at Rosaria. “What is he talking about?”

The guard shifted, her gaze
not quite meeting Tariza’s. “The courtiers ... some of them have
been using him. And I’ve heard the slaves ... have used him,
too.”

Her eyes widened. “Used
him? You mean against his will?”

“
A slave has no will, Your
Highness,” Dario said, flushing hotly. Surely she knew
that.

“
Yes, that’s what I mean,”
Rosaria said. “When I saw what he’d done to his arm, I knew I had
to contact you. I hope I did the right thing.”

“
You did. Thank you. I will
reward you. For now, though, I have to get him out of here. His arm
is infected and needs doctoring.”

Her hands trembled as she
smoothed the hair from his face. “Who knew about this? My mother?
Did she give the orders? Does Princess Lenora know?” She sounded
furious, probably at being cheated of her chance to punish
him.

“
They thought they were
protecting you,” Rosaria said. “Avenging you.”

“
No-one asked whether I
wanted to be protected or avenged.” Her voice shook. “If revenge
was to be had, it ought to have been mine. They almost destroyed a
person I ... someone in whom I have a personal
interest.”

He blinked. A personal
interest.
It’s better than no interest at
all.

Tariza fixed Rosaria with a
gimlet-eyed stare. “You must not speak of this with anyone. Not one
person.”

“
I will say nothing, Your
Highness.”

“
Good. Come to my quarters
this evening and I’ll have a reward for you.”

“
Thank you.”

“
For now, help me get Dario
up there. I don’t think I can manage by myself.”

He wasn’t a cripple or an
infant. “I can walk.”

“
Are you sure?”

“
I walk every few days.”
Every time some woman summoned him to one of the sex
rooms.

“
All right, then. Let’s
go.”

He had to let go of her so she could
stand up. It was difficult, releasing her when he wanted nothing
more than to hold her for hours, but he did it.

Tariza scrambled to her feet. Dario
followed more slowly, his chains clanking. He stood, swaying a
little from lack of food. Damn his weakness. She rested a gentle
hand on his wrist, frowning. She was no doubt impatient with his
slowness.

“
We have to leave the
chains on for now,” she said.

Dario nodded mutely. He’d
expected to die with them on.

She led the way from the
cell, walking slowly. Rosaria brought up the rear, either to
provide Tariza protection from him or to give the appearance of it.
Was Tariza afraid of him, then? She hadn’t seemed afraid. She’d
touched him.

The slaves and servants of
the household were accustomed to seeing him in the service
corridors on his way to the sex rooms, but they hadn’t seen him in
the main rooms and corridors with their thick, luxurious carpets
and fine paintings. Every person they passed stared at him, some
with open mouths.