Does It Matter?

Chapter 3

Maric had done an admirable job of ignoring Dara throughout the day's ride, at least outwardly. Inside his head was a different story. He couldn't stop running through every interaction they'd had, trying to piece together some puzzle that he didn't even truly understand the nature of just yet.

Even after spending all day thinking about it, he still didn't know how he wanted to handle Dara. Part of him insisted that he had to discipline the slave. It didn't matter if his behaviour was intentional rebellion or just poor training. He simply could not allow such disrespect.

So why couldn't he leave it at that? Why had he spent all day grasping at alternatives? Every interaction with Dara he'd had so far had only revealed more flaws, and in the moment it irritated Maric that Dara wasn't being what he was supposed to be, yet some part of him objected to the idea of actually changing him. He told himself that he didn't want to be wasting all his time and energy thinking about a slave of all things, that Dara had become a great annoyance, but the idea of replacing him with a generic bed slave who would simply do his job held no appeal.

In short, Maric had no idea what he actually wanted.

Well, there was one thing he was sure of. He wanted Dara, naked and flushed with pleasure, as soon as possible.

Dara was still in the wagon when Maric went to find him when they stopped for the night at an inn. He had laid his ratty old jacket out and he looked like he was trying to find some way to curl up on it in the small space.

As Maric looked down at him, he found himself smiling. "Oh, you think you're sleeping out here, do you?"

Dara's startled eyes leapt to Maric and he opened and shut his mouth a couple of times before answering. "I wasn't sure what you would want, your highness."

"I thought what I wanted from you was clear." Maric tipped his head in the direction of the inn. "Come on."

Brayan was already talking to the innkeeper and making sure everything was as it should be, so Maric collected his room key and led Dara upstairs.

After all the worrying he'd done that day it was almost a surprise when Maric locked the door to their room, turned around, and found Dara waiting for instructions just as soft and timid as ever. Perhaps he'd built the whole thing up too much in his head. Dara could be more difficult than most slaves, but he was far from wild and out of control.

Maric wrapped his arms around Dara and pulled him close to his chest, dipping his head to breathe in his scent. He exhaled a long sigh against Dara's throat. "What have you been taught?"

"Your highness?"

"From what I understand you were in training, intended for me, until you were at least fourteen. You should have retained some of that, but you're strangely lacking."

Dara tried to lean away, but he was stopped by the cage of Maric's arms around him. Perhaps that had been unnecessary. It was true, but that didn't mean it was helpful. Maric loosen his arms so that Dara could lean back enough to look him in the eye. It was still odd the way he did that.

"I, well—" Dara's fingers twisted in the hem of Maric's shirt. "You're right, but after I turned fourteen — and that was nearly ten years ago now — after that, I was more or less left to myself. I did jobs, but I didn't have any training. I didn't have a master. Or, well, I did, of course, but that was you, and you..."

"I wasn't there."

Dara made a quiet sound in the back of his throat. "The life I adjusted to was a very different one. I'm very good at taking a beating and not much else, I'm afraid."