Raised to Kill (Kindred Tales)

“I will try,” Allara promised, fingering the small signal token which was also sewed into the hem of the tight, silver wedding gown. If the Gods were merciful, she would have time for both the token and the poison pill after stabbing her skora into her husband’s heart. She would sing her lament as the poison took effect and be in the Heavens with her avenged ancestress before the next day dawned.

Yes, but don’t forget what you must endure before you may kill him, whispered a little voice in her head. Pain and shame await you before you can claim your eternal reward.

Allara lifted her chin. None of that mattered, she told herself. The only thing that mattered was fulfilling the mission she’d been born for.

“Go now.” Her aunt was pushing her out the door of the ship. “Go and meet your new husband! Go and meet the evil one.”

Allara bit her lip.

“You are not…not coming with me? I mean, at least to meet him, before you go back?”

“I?” Her aunt looked at her as though she had gone mad. “Contaminate myself by stepping foot on the infidel ship? How could I ever wash the stink of the Kindred off me if I did such a thing? Why, I would never be able to enter the Song House again!”

“You’re right of course,” Allara said quickly. “Forgive me, Aunt.”

“You’re not losing your nerve, are you girl?” her aunt demanded, glaring at her. “All your life you’ve been trained for this—tell me you’re not giving way to cowardice.”

“Of course not!” Allara was stung by her words. “It is just that I have never been away from home before and they are such strange people, the giants. But I shall go alone, of course,” she added quickly. “I…” She swallowed hard. “I suppose this is the last time we shall see each other, Aunt.”

There was a lump in her throat, as she spoke the words, though she would not allow her voice to tremble. Her mother had died giving birth to her and her father had been a distant figure, only swooping in occasionally to sternly remind her of her duty. Her aunt, his sister, had mostly raised Allara, along with a bevy of governesses and servants, of course. It was difficult now, to think of parting from the only parent she had ever known.

But her aunt was not, apparently, feeling the same emotion Allara was.

“Will you hurry and leave the ship?” she demanded. “The evil Kindred air is getting in! If the reek gets into my gown, I shall have to burn it!”

“Yes, Aunt.” Allara swallowed the lump in her throat and adjusted the golden lace veil that obscured her features. It would hide her face from her husband until they were properly wed.

Taking a deep breath, she slid out of her seat and stepped onto the unholy ground of the Kindred Mother Ship. Almost at once, the door of the ship which had brought her began to close.

Quickly, Allara turned to catch a final glimpse of her aunt—a final glimpse of home.

“Goodbye, Aunt!” she called, waving. “I will see you someday in the Heavens!”

Her aunt made no move to reply but only sat stiffly, staring straight ahead. It was as though Allara was already dead to her. The door finished closing and then the ship rose up, headed for the black net of stars overhead—headed back home without her.

For one awful moment, Allara thought she was going to cry. She had never left her home planet before—had never even left the city she was born in before this. Now she had been stranded here, on a foreign ship owned by an evil enemy with nothing but blood and pain and shame and death to look forward to.

Tears rose to her eyes and she wanted to reach out her arms to the fast disappearing ship and cry, “Wait! Don’t leave me here! Come back for me—please.”

But to give in to such impulses would be childish and ill-befitting a daughter of one of the Seven Great Houses, she reminded herself. All her life she had been training and preparing for this mission. Was she now going to give in to emotion and melt into a puddle of tears just because her inevitable fate had finally arrived?

I will be strong, Allara told herself, swallowing back the tears that tried to choke her. I will not weep or bemoan my fate. I have a mission to fulfill and I will fulfill it and then die with what dignity and honor I can salvage. I—

Suddenly a voice spoke from behind her in a foreign language. Allara wouldn’t have known the words were directed to her, except the speaker knew her name.

“Allara?” the voice said again in a questioning tone.

Allara spun around to see who was speaking.

To her surprise, it was not a huge Kindred male, but four foreign-looking women, all taller than her, standing there.