Raised to Kill (Kindred Tales)

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.

This placed them almost eye-to-eye—though he was still a bit taller. But it was much easier to look into his face—not that Allara wanted to.

However, it seemed that her new husband wanted to see her face because he murmured,

“Can I lift your veil now or would you rather I wait until after the ceremony?”

“N-now would be all right,” Allara heard herself saying, though she had no idea why. She would have liked to keep this last shield between them for a little while longer. But he would have to see her bare-faced eventually, she told herself. It was better to be brave now and confront the evil one face-to-face.

“Thank you,” he murmured. And—delicately, for one with such large hands—he lifted the golden veil and bared her face.

“Gods…” His golden eyes widened and his deep voice went suddenly hoarse.

Allara lifted her chin, her pride stung by his reaction.

“I am sorry if you do not like what you see,” she said tartly, determined not to let him upset her. After all, he would be dead by her hand before the next day dawned. What did she care of how he thought of her?

But his next words surprised and disarmed her all over again.

“Baby, please don’t misunderstand me—I love what I see,” he murmured. “I knew from my dreams that your eyes were beautiful, but I had no idea you’d be so Goddess-damned lovely—so perfect in every way.”

It was Allara’s turn to look at him in surprise. She knew she was pretty—knew that she would have fetched a high price at any bride auction. But the way the big Kindred was looking at her was…reverent. Almost worshipful. How could a man so evil look at her with such wonder in his golden eyes?

At that moment, a woman with green streaks in her yellow hair and strange green-within-green eyes came to stand in front of them.