Chapter Five

 

Bayla found her way to the kitchen the next morning after Daneth had completed his checkup and released her. He’d been happy with whatever he’d seen on his holographic projection of her uterus. Which only made her more conflicted about what she planned to do.

“Welcome, Bayla,” Chef Barr said with a bow when she entered.

Was he bowing for her? No one had bowed for her in her life. She rewarded him with her widest smile.

“Good morning, Master Barr.”

“I made dorkling eggs for you.”

She had no idea what dorkling eggs were, but the food he placed in front of her smelled heavenly. “Thank you so much.” She took a bite and chewed, moaning with pleasure at the explosion of flavor in her mouth.

Chef Barr beamed.

She swallowed the food and pasted on her brightest smile. “Chef Barr, you have access to Earth-based herbs, do you not?”

“Yes,” he said. “What would you like?”

“Do you have parsley? Or cinnamon bark?” She kept her expression innocent and cheerful, hoping he had no idea how the herbs were used medicinally.

“I have fresh parsley. Lady Lamira grows it here. I do not have fresh cinnamon, but I have it in powder form. Would you like some parsley in your eggs?”

“Actually, I was wondering if you could make me a big batch of tea with it? Or I can make it,” she added, realizing she might be out of line asking him for any favors. “It’s really good for a human female’s reproductive organs,” she lied, letting her hand slip down to cover her belly. “I’d love to sip it all planet rotation today. I want to be the perfect vessel for Doctor Daneth’s experiment.” She took another bite to hide her guilt at the deception, but the eggs no longer tasted delicious. In fact, her breakfast sat in her stomach like a stone.

She choked down the rest while Chef Barr put a huge pot of water on to boil and left the kitchen.

Not sure of the appropriate protocol for handling dishes, she washed hers in the sink, dried it, and hunted through the cabinets until she found where to put it away.

Chef Barr returned as the water began to boil, a huge bunch of freshly cut parsley in his hand. He rinsed it and tossed it into the pot. “How long should I steep it?”

She nibbled her lip, guilt twisting in her gut. “I’m not sure. Until it turns bright green, if I remember right.” She’d learned this trick from Sara, one of the midwives who tended to their births. Parsley could discourage implantation and possibly bring on a female’s menstrual cycle, especially when used with other herbs. Of course, they hadn’t had access to parsley on the fertility farm, but Sara had suggested it for times when they would be rented out to wealthy Ocretions for breeding. It was not a sure-fire way to end a pregnancy, but when used early and often enough, might encourage miscarriage. Sara had learned it from the midwife before her, and she’d passed on the information to all of them, since most would become midwives to the younger slaves when they were no longer of breeding age.

Bayla had loved midwifery, wishing she could somehow make herself barren and skip straight to that part of her designated life. She’d assisted Sara any time she could, learning about the herbs, about babies, how positioning during childbirth could ease labor pains.

She stood and watched the simmering tea, hoping Daneth wouldn’t come in and grow jealous at finding her shoulder to shoulder with the elderly chef. Not that she didn’t love his jealousy. She replayed the memory of his fury when she’d flashed her bare breasts at the guards. The pleasure at being coveted matched the satisfaction of having this power over a male. She’d never had power over any being before. It made her feel alive, and sexy. Vital and youthful. It was almost as if her life had begun the day she came to the Zandian palatial pod. Everything that had come before was a bad dream. A rehearsal for what real living would be like.

“That looks good,” she said when the water turned a beautiful shade of green.

Chef Barr ladled some into a mug for her, and she blew on the top. “May I take the whole pot to Doctor Daneth’s chamber?”

“I’ll send it to you. Do you prefer it hot or cold?”

She took a cautious sip of the hot liquid. Not delicious. “Maybe cold would be better.”

Chef Barr bowed. “Very well. I will chill it for you.”

She curtsied back at him. “Thank you, Master Barr. You’re so unbelievably kind to me.” She leaned up and gave him a peck on the cheek, which made his face darken in purple.

He gave an embarrassed throat-clear and waved her away.

She walked slowly back to Daneth’s chamber, stopping to sip the hot liquid every few steps.

She hoped Daneth wouldn’t know about parsley. She doubted he would. The herb was an old human midwives’ secret.

Why, then, was her heart jumping out of her chest, her nerves scraped raw over what she was attempting?

She hoped if something should go wrong with the implantation, Daneth would never know the cause, and she’d be free to stay here with him as his slave, learning to serve him, to satisfy him. Learning to use her body to command his.

 

~.~

 

In an hour, Chef Barr himself delivered a pitcher of chilled parsley tea to Daneth’s chamber. Daneth opened the door for him, but he’d been wrapped up in his research all morning, and he simply mumbled a brief thanks to Chef Barr before turning back to it.

“Thank you so much, Master Barr,” she said, dipping into a curtsy but watching that she didn’t gush too much in front of the doctor for fear her still-sore bottom would become a target for his hand again.

He poured the green tea into a glass and handed it to her. “It is my pleasure to assist in this way.” Oh sweet mother Earth. Please don’t let him say what the tea is for. “I brought some to Lamira as well.”

Bombs of terror went off in her face and chest. “Oh, that was kind of you.” Had her voice wobbled?

Dearest Mother Earth, if she caused the prince’s young to miscarry, she would probably be put to death.

“P-perhaps I’ll go and see how she likes it,” she improvised. “Master Daneth?”

He turned his body in her direction but didn’t tear his eyes away from the hologram he was studying.

“With your permission, I’m going to visit Lady Lamira.”

Now he looked. “Oh. Well...yes, I suppose that’s all right. Don’t be long.”

She curtsied. “I won’t be.” She beat Master Barr to the door. “Which way to her chamber?” She forced her voice to sound casual.

“Down the corridor, take a right. That corridor dead ends into it.”

“Thank you.” She walked as quickly as she dared without arousing suspicion. The moment she Barr disappeared from her view, she raced the rest of the way down the corridor and knocked on the door.

It slid open. She looked wildly around the room and—thank the stars—saw the full glass of tea sitting on the table. Lady Lamira sat at the table across from a woman who looked like her, only older.

“Bayla,” Lamira said. “Come in. This is my mother, Leora.”

The older woman stood and offered her hand in the ancient Earth greeting.

Bayla shook it, but she was barely able to keep her eyes off the parsley tea. “Have you tried that yet? It’s terrible.” She picked it up.

Lamira’s brows drew together, and her focus went to Bayla’s hand holding the glass.

She couldn’t think of a good excuse for holding it, but her mouth opened anyway. “I, uh, love it, though. You don’t mind if I drink this do you? Good.” Without waiting for an answer, she brought the drink to her lips, keeping it there until she’d downed the entire contents. “Oops. I’m sorry—I drank it all. I hope you don’t mind.”

Lamira’s eyes narrowed and then went unfocused. When her focus returned, Bayla would swear she looked disappointed, as if she’d seen into Bayla’s soul and found her lacking.

A shiver ran down her spine.

“Would you care to sit with us?” Leora asked.

She really wanted to run back to Daneth’s room and hide, but she mustered her courage. “Thank you. I’d love that.”

Lamira produced a spare hoverseat and drew it to the table so the three of them sat together. A plate of fruit sat in the middle, and Lamira picked up a berry and popped it into her mouth. “Chef Barr brought me a snack. I’m always hungry.”

“Yes, I remember those days. My last pregnancy, I always wanted more meat. Sometimes I thought I’d eat my own hand off if I could.” She stamped down the wash of pain that rose up at the memory of her last pregnancy. Where was that baby girl she’d birthed? She’d be nearly two solar cycles now. Were her slave masters kind to her? How was she being raised? And for what purpose?

The separation of slave families was the cruelest of all Ocretion policies. But here she sat with a mother and daughter who seemed to know each other. She turned to Leora. “Did you”—she cleared her throat, knowing her question was way too personal, but unable to stop herself— “did you get to raise Lamira?”

Only sympathy radiated from Leora—no sign of offense. “I did. But my first daughter was taken from me for sexual slavery. Lamira and I were lucky, I suppose. I was a factory worker when I got pregnant with Lamira. A human revolt originated there at the time.” The woman’s eyes clouded with pain, but then she blinked, and it was gone. “After the revolution was stamped out, they got rid of all of us to change the mix. I was sent to an agrifarm. It was hard work, but we were mostly left alone.”

“And how did you end up here?”

“Prince Zander purchased her as a gift to me,” Lamira said, the corners of her mouth turning up into a wry smile. “He helped us find my older sister, Lily, as well. She, too, is mated to a Zandian.”

“Humans and Zandians are a good mix, then?”

Lamira rubbed her swollen belly. “It seems so. There are differences to work through, certainly. The innate dominance of their species is tempered by a code of honor. They are as capable of loving and bonded relationships as humans are. We haven’t seen any of the cruelty of the Ocretions in them, despite their insistence on superiority.”

A desperate and utterly foreign longing rose up in Bayla. At first, she didn’t know what it was for. Family? Her lost babies? It resembled that loss. But then she realized—she wanted to be mated like these women. To have the loving and bonded relationship Lamira described. Having a partner or mate had never entered her mind as a possibility before. Unless some Ocretion master chose to purchase and keep her as his permanent sex slave, she would never be bound to a male. Nor had she ever wished for such a fate. She’d only ever trusted the other female slaves.

But to have an honorable male, such as Lamira described—a loving mate, one who purchased her mother as a gift to her—it was a dream she’d never indulged until now. And despite her better judgment, that dream took root in the center of her chest, spreading until it consumed her. Thoughts of what it would be like to have Daneth impregnate her, bring her a gift, hold her.

He already had. Held her, that is. He’d carried her to his sleepdisk and covered her with blankets. He’d held her in his lap, in his strong arms.

What if a male like him came to love her? Was such a thing even possible? She’d only ever thought about their relationship in terms of sex. In terms of master and slave. Now that she’d heard about Lamira’s mate, she wanted more.

And that was a dangerous way to think.

Especially considering her enormous betrayal of her master and his beloved experiment.