This had never bothered Allara. She knew that a man and a maid came together in some fashion to form babies, but she didn’t know how, nor did she care to know. Why should she, when there were no babies in her own future? No family or friends—no husband who would truly love and honor her.
There was nothing but death for her—no path past the assassination she had been raised to perform. Everything else was meaningless.
“No,” she said coldly. “I do not know much of how a man is with a maid. Only that in some way he makes a baby to grow in her belly but as to how, I have no idea. Nor do I care.”
“You must care,” her aunt said, frowning. “For the ancient Blood Feud cannot be satisfied until your Kindred husband has taken you in the way a man takes a maid. Only then may you kill him.”
“But…” Allara shook her head, puzzled at this new wrinkle in the well-known, often-rehearsed plan. “But how am I to know when that happens since I know nothing about it, Aunt?”
“I am going to tell you,” her aunt said, frowning. “Now, attend to me…”
She spoke at length and when she was finished, Allara could not hide the alarm she felt.
“I must let him do that to me?” she exclaimed, her eyes growing wide.
“You must,” her aunt said firmly. “Until he does, the Blood Feud cannot be satisfied. For such was done to your ancestress and you are going to avenge her pain and shame.”
“But…but the Kindred are so much larger than we are,” Allara protested. “What is the size of the, er, skora that he will plunge within me?”
“Quite large, given the giants’ size,” her aunt said grimly. “You must expect a great deal of pain and bleeding, I would think, if he tears you—as he most likely will. But you must bear it, no matter how roughly the Kindred takes you. Only when he fills your womb with his seed may you kill him. Not before.”
“Why was I not told this before!” Allara exclaimed. “I do not care if it was improper to tell before my wedding,” she added, when her aunt started to protest. “I should have been prepared for it! I have been ready to kill and to die all my life, but no one told me I must submit to this indignity, this…this shame. I—”
Her aunt slapped her cheek hard, cutting off her words.
“Foolish girl!” she hissed. “What do you think the other girls of your age will endure tonight after they have been sold off at the Bride Auction? Do you think you are the only female who must spread her legs for her husband’s shaft?”
Her words silenced Allara—and shamed her.
“I did not know,” she said in a low voice. “You mean that all women must suffer this, no matter who they marry?”
“Of course—it is part of marriage.” Her aunt sniffed. “I ached for the entire first month of my marriage, until I got used to your uncle’s rough treatment. I cried into my pillow every night after he finished taking his husbandly rights. But did it do me any good? No, it did not.” She glared at Allara. “Nor will it do you any good to snivel and whine now. This is part of your mission and you must swear to me now that you will do it correctly.”
Allara nodded, her heart pounding in her chest.
“I swear it,” she said, her voice trembling only a little. “On the bones of my ancestress—she who was taken and wronged by the Kindred three and thirty generations ago—I will fulfill my duty.”
It was not the first time she had given this vow. It had been taught to her when she was just a child, barely able to lisp the words—she had said it like a prayer before bedtime every night.
But the words had new meaning now and there was a new dread in her heart.
She had hoped to complete her mission and kill herself quickly and painlessly with the poison pill sewn into the hem of her silver wedding gown. Now she knew that there was no avoiding pain and shame—it would come to her whether she killed the monster she was marrying alone or in front of the entire Kindred High Council. It would come to her on her wedding night, as it did, apparently, to all girls who married.
It is as my aunt said, it would have happened to me even if I was not marrying the enemy, she tried to console herself.
But there was no easing the heaviness in her heart. No getting around the fact that she was about to be married—and defiled—by one of the evil Kindred she had grown up hating all her life.
Her mission—the mission she had been born to achieve—had suddenly gotten much, much worse. But there was nothing Allara could do about it. She had sworn the Unbreakable Oath to avenge her ancestress and satisfy the Blood Feud. To go back on her word would be to bring shame on all Seven Great Houses—on her people as a whole.
She would be reviled if she failed—her name sung with scorn at every Song House on the planet. Even worse, her father and aunt would lose their status and no longer be able to claim they were of one of the Great Houses.
There is no help for it, Allara thought grimly as her aunt went back to arranging her hair. No getting around it. I must give myself to the evil one before I can kill him.
She sent a quick prayer to the Gods that it would happen quickly and that the pain would not be too great to bear.
She would not be able to kill her new husband at once, but hopefully she would still be plunging her skora deep in his evil heart before their wedding night was ended.
Two
“You don’t have to do this, you know,” Commander Sylvan said as Brand straightened his best crimson uniform shirt and made certain his top button was fastened.
He shot the Head of the Kindred High Council an amused look.
“Don’t you think you’re telling me that a little late in the game? I’m going to be standing in the Sacred Grove with my boots off and my bride beside me in less than an hour saying my Joining vows.”
“I know that. I just feel…” Sylvan ran a hand through his short, blond hair. “I feel like perhaps I was too hasty in allowing you to volunteer when the Q’ess sent us their proposal. I didn’t make you a member of the High Council just so you could sacrifice your future to a Joining that might not be right for you.”
“A provisional member,” Brand reminded him, grinning a little. “And I know you had no idea this proposal was coming when you nominated me for the post, Commander. You brought me in because you thought it was wrong that all the decisions for the Mother Ship be made by the older generation—remember?”
It was just fate that when the message from their ancient enemy, the Q’ess, had come in, Brand had been the only member of the Council who could fulfill it. For the Q’ess, who had claimed a Blood Feud with the Kindred for time out of mind, had offered to end the animosity if one of their high-born maidens could be Joined with a member of the High Council. And, as the youngest member, Brand was also the only one without a mate.
“I just don’t want you to feel obligated—this is a big decision.” Commander Sylvan still looked worried. “What if the two of you aren’t compatible? After all we aren’t able to Dream Share with the Q’ess—it’s one reason this ridiculous Blood Feud has gone on for so long.”
“They might not be able to dream of us, but I’ve dreamed of my bride—at least I think I have,” Brand told him.