Raised to Kill

“Well, it’s never too late to start taking lessons,” Selena offered. “I wouldn’t mind giving you some—I’ll take any excuse to stay aboard the Mother Ship,” she added, grinning. “The guest suite they have us staying in is way nicer than my apartment back home.”

“You would teach me to play an instrument?” Allara could hardly believe it.

She could still vividly recall the day she learned she could not have her dream. When she had mentioned it, as a child of five, her aunt had slapped her.

“Foolish girl!” she’d shouted into Allara’s crying face. “Don’t you know what a sacrilege it would be to allow a woman to play an instrument? The Gods would curse you for even thinking such a thing!”

And now, here was an Earth woman offering to teach her to play as casually as Brand had offered to make bread with her. What was wrong with these people that they didn’t know their correct places?

“I wish I could,” she said sadly. “But…I should not.”

But still, she was tempted. Very, very tempted. She couldn’t set up lessons, though. She wouldn’t even be alive by this time tomorrow! And neither would Brand. The thought made her look quickly at her new husband, only to see that he was looking at her with deep interest in his golden eyes.

“Allara, don’t let your past dictate your future,” he rumbled softly. “There’s no one here aboard the Mother Ship that will say it’s wrong for you to take lessons. If you want them, I’ll be happy to pay Selena’s fee.”

His words surprised her all over again. He would pay for her to have something that a woman should not have? Something forbidden but so desirable every part of her ached for it?

“I…do not know what to say,” she said at last, shaking her head.

“Well, think about it. We’ll be here through the reception, if that’s all right with you?” Selena asked.

“Oh yes—please stay!” Allara nodded. “Your presence is a blessing and an honor to our marriage,” she added earnestly.

“In fact, would you mind playing something else while we cut the cake?” Brand asked them. “Just something soft and delicate to set the mood?”

“Of course.” Selena smiled at them both. “It would be our pleasure. We’ll just set up in the corner, here.”

Allara watched them eagerly as they arranged themselves on some chairs and began making the soft, sweet sounds from their instruments again.

“You really like them, huh?” Brand was studying her with great interest, as though he was trying to learn about her.

“Their music is beyond anything I have ever heard before,” Allara told him. “Thank you for asking them to stay. On my planet, we have no vio-lins.”

“What kinds of instruments do your musicians play, then?” he asked.

“Oh, many different kinds of horns,” she said, thinking again of how his deep, resonant voice reminded her of her favorite, the moun horn. “And drums, of course, to keep the beat. Flutes made of the leg bones of the gorth stork—things like that.”

“Very interesting,” Brand murmured. “I would love to hear some of your people’s music some day.”

“Oh, you would never be allowed!” Allara said, before she thought better of it. “An ev—an infidel must never hear the music of our Song Houses.”

She had almost called him an “evil one” she realized. She must be more careful, lest he guess her true purpose here.

“Well, I’m sorry to hear that,” Brand remarked neutrally. “Oh look—I think Kat is calling us over to cut the cake.”

Taking her hand again, he led her over to the round table in the center of the room where a towering white structure had been set up. It appeared to be made of round, thick circles, stacked on top of each other, each one smaller than the last. Down the side was a gorgeous cascade of pink flowers with curling green stems.

“Here you go—I hope you like it.” Lauren was suddenly by her side, pressing a metal instrument with a handle attached to a triangular end into Allara’s hand.

Allara looked at it.

“It is a beautiful structure but what am I supposed to do with this?” She gestured with the metal instrument.

“Why, you have to cut the cake, sweetie.” Lauran looked surprised that she didn’t know. “Both of you together, actually.”

“Here,” Brand rumbled. “Let me help.”

Leaning over Allara in a way that made her feel very small indeed, he placed his own much larger hand on hers and lifted the instrument.

“What do you think?” he rumbled. “Should we go for the bottom layer first?”

“I…suppose so?” Looming over her, as he was, Allara was close enough to smell that warm, spicy scent of his again. It made her hand tremble inside his.

If Brand felt her trembling, he didn’t say anything about it. He simply lifted her hand and the instrument she was holding and sliced it down into the bottom circular layer of the structure.