The beauty rushed through her like a fever and Allara felt it overcome her like a river of ecstasy rushing her away to unknown lands. Her legs suddenly lost their strength and she began to collapse.
“Oh, watch out—is she fainting?” Liv gasped, gripping her arm more tightly.
“Allara? Are you all right?” Kat asked anxiously, pulling her up on the other side. “What’s wrong?”
“The…the music,” Allara managed to say. “So beautiful—every note is true! What is it? Please tell me!”
“Oh, that’s Pachelbel’s Canon in D,” Kat told her. “It’s kind of become a traditional wedding song for us on our part of Earth.”
“What…what instruments?” Allara somehow managed to ask. Instruments were used infrequently on her planet—mostly only on Holy Days. But the musicians who played them were revered and respected above all others on Q’ess.
Long ago, before she had truly understood what her fate was to be, she had dreamed of becoming a musician. She did have, after all, the ability to hear every true note and to sing it as well.
Of course, that was before she’d known about her destiny and understood that women could not be musicians. But still, it had been her dream as a girl.
“I hired a string quartet,” Kat said, answering her question. She was still looking anxiously at Allara. “Are you going to be okay, doll? For a minute I wasn’t sure if you were fainting or having a kind of musical orgasm.”
“I…I will be all right,” Allara assured them, though chills were still rushing through her and igniting her nerves like sparks. “It is just…so beautiful. I find it difficult to think of anything else. Please, may we go pay our respects to the musicians? They are so very talented—not a note is untrue!”
“Well, maybe after the ceremony,” Kat said, frowning. “Right now we’re supposed to be walking you down the aisle to meet your new hubby and get you married, remember?”
As a matter of fact, the beauty of the music had made Allara forget. For a moment, she had lost herself in the trueness of the notes and everything—her quest, the evil one she must marry, and the horror she must soon endure at his hands—had all faded away. Kat’s reminder was like a splash of chilly water right in her face.
“Oh…of course.” She nodded, trying to stand up straighter. “Forgive me.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Liv told her, smiling. “Um, I guess music really is extremely important to your people.”
“It is the essence of life,” Allara said earnestly. “And to one like me, who can sense the trueness of the notes, it is everything.”
“Wow. Well, I’m really glad I picked music you like, doll, but we really have to get going now,” Kat told her. “Listen, they’re playing it for the second time—we’d better get in there.”
“All right.” Allara nodded and tightened her grip on Kat’s arm. She must be brave now, she told herself. Soon she would stand face-to-face with the evil one.
“Come on, hon—you’ll be okay.” Liv squeezed her arm reassuringly. “Let’s go.”
She and Kat led Allara towards the entrance of the ceremonial area and they walked under the archway of white blossoms to the strains of the delicate, beautiful music.
Looking down, Allara saw that she was walking on a long, white ribbon of silky material. Her bare feet were a creamy caramel-brown against the paleness. On either side of the white ribbon, there were white chairs, only a few of which were occupied by very large males. She saw her escorts waving at the various males and realized these must be their Kindred spouses. Well, they certainly were large, Allara thought, but at least, sitting down as they were, they weren’t overwhelming.
She was not looking ahead—the prospect was too frightening. She didn’t want to see the evil one—the one called “Brand.” She didn’t want to see the man who would defile her before she stabbed him through the heart.
Just a little longer, she thought desperately. Let this walk down the white ribbon take a little longer. I do not want to see him!
But then she heard Kat murmur in her ear,
“Here we are, doll. Look up.”
Fearing what she would see, Allara at last forced her eyes up…and up and up. For the man standing there, waiting for her, was truly a giant.
The top of my head will barely come up past his elbow! Allara thought. And his shoulders… His shoulders were fully twice as broad as her own. The rest of his body was huge and muscular too. How could she possibly kill such a monster?
His body was intimidating enough, but then Allara could wait no longer and had to look at his face.
He had black hair, a neatly trimmed black beard, and golden eyes—golden eyes! No one on Allara’s planet had eyes like that! They looked wild—like an animal’s eyes.
A beast’s eyes, whispered the panicked little voice in her head.
And yet, strangely, those eyes did not look angry or hateful, she saw, as he looked down at her. They had a slight downward tilt at the corners which made them look almost sleepy. Or if not sleepy, then at least not evil. Her new husband looked…peaceful. Kind. Even hopeful, as though he wanted her to like what she saw when she looked at him.
Peaceful…kind…hopeful. These were strange words to apply to the enemy, Allara thought. And they couldn’t possibly be right.
Don’t let him fool you, whispered a voice in her head which sounded much like her aunt’s. He’s a Kindred and they’re evil—they’re all EVIL!
“Here, doll,” Kat whispered in her ear. “Let’s do something about this height difference, shall we? Otherwise you’re going to get a crick in your neck before the end of the ceremony.”
As she spoke, she pulled out a large cube covered in the same silky material as the white ribbon they had walked on. It had been hidden behind the flowering archway the huge Kindred was standing under.
“Here—step up on this,” she said to Allara, pulling it into position.
It was a big step up and Allara looked at it uncertainly, trying to think how she could clamber up on the cube without ripping the tight silver sheath of her dress.
Kat saw the problem too. She frowned and whispered to Liv, “Maybe if we both heave her up by the arms?”
“Sure.” Liv nodded. “On three. One, two—”
“Wait.” The deep, resonant voice came from the huge Kindred who was to be her husband. “Maybe I can help,” he murmured.
Leaning down from his great height, he looked at Allara, who was suddenly glad she still had the gold lace veil to hide her face.
“May I lift you, Allara?” he asked respectfully. “I promise I’ll be very gentle.”
His voice disarmed her almost as much as his words. It had the low, lovely timbre of the moun horn—the instrument that spoke with the deepest voice during the High Holy Days. Allara had always loved its sound and now it came from the mouth of her enemy. How could this be?
But there was no time to speculate. As though in a dream, she found herself nodding her ascent. And then the Kindred placed huge hands—twice as big as her own if not bigger—around her waist and lifted her gently to stand on the white cube.