Raised to Kill (Kindred Tales)

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.

“You have?” Sylvan’s raised eyebrows were evidence of his disbelief. “Are you certain the female you dreamed of was the Q’ess female? What if you’re Dream Sharing with someone else entirely?”

“I’m pretty sure it’s her, Commander,” Brand assured him. “I can’t see her very clearly, but she has indigo hair and eyes—I know that much. Aren’t those attributes of the Seven Great Houses of Q’ess?”

A look of relief came over the other male’s face.

“Yes—yes that’s true. A very distinct shade of indigo, if I remember. A ‘blue so dark it is almost black’ according to our archives.”

“How long has it been since we had contact of any kind with the Q’ess, anyway?” Brand asked.

“Oh, hundreds of cycles.” Sylvan shook his head. “They were one of the first civilizations we found, when the Kindred became a space-faring race, that we might have formed a genetic trade with. Of course, their people are much smaller than ours—the tallest of their males is barely 5’4 and their females are most often extremely petite, around 4’11 or so.”