Raised to Kill (Kindred Tales)

Grimly, Brand nodded.

“And that’s not the only time. I’ve had to turn off the wave-oven in the kitchen and hide all the cutting implements. I’ve taken away every single belt from every robe or dress in the suite. I even took the laces out of the ‘tennis shoes’ Kat gave her for exercise.” He took a gulp of his drink, welcoming the fiery burn down his throat. “I just don’t know what to do—no matter how many times I forgive her, it seems like Allara just can’t forgive herself. The guilt is eating her up alive, Sylvan, and I’m afraid it’s driving her crazy.”

“I’m so sorry, Brand…” Sylvan shook his head. “I never imagined it would be this bad for you.”

“It’s worse for Allara,” Brand said. “And being in the same suite where she tried to kill me is only exacerbating the situation.”

Sylvan sighed. “I’m sure that can’t be easy, but the High Council absolutely refuses to allow her back out among the general population of the Mother Ship knowing that she was mentally compromised by an enemy agent.”

“Then maybe it’s time for me to resign my place on the Council and take my wife away from the Mother Ship,” Brand said, frowning.

“Don’t do that,” Sylvan protested. “We would hate to see you go, and we’d be losing a very promising young member of the Council.”

“I can’t just stay here and watch the female I love go crazy!” Brand exclaimed, so loudly that several heads turned and a few other warriors stared at him in surprise. He didn’t give a damn, though—he was too upset about Allara to care what anyone thought of him. “I have to do something for her, Sylvan,” he said desperately. “I just don’t know what! How can I ease the burden of guilt she feels? How can I help her clear her mind and start fresh? I love her, damn it! There must be something I can do.”

“Maybe there is.” Sylvan frowned thoughtfully. “When you talked about easing her guilt and clearing her mind, it gave me an idea. Have you thought about taking her to the Sacred Grove for a Cleansing Ceremony?”

“No.” Brand shook his head. “She doesn’t believe in the Goddess—as far as I can tell, she still worships the Q’ess gods—whoever they may be.”

“It doesn’t matter if she believes or not—the Goddess can offer healing,” Sylvan insisted. “Why don’t you let me set it up? I’m sure I can get a special dispensation from the Council to allow you take her to the Sacred Grove. At the very least, you’d be getting her out of your suite.”

“That’s true.” Brand nodded thoughtfully. “Maybe it would help at that.” He sighed. “Honestly, at this point, I’m desperate enough to try anything.”

“I’ll set it up for later on tonight,” Sylvan promised.

“Thank you, Commander.” Brand nodded gratefully. “And now, I’d better get back. I was only able to leave because Allara was finally sleeping so I knew she couldn’t hurt herself.”

“Did the sedative I prescribed help, then?” Sylvan asked.

Brand nodded. “When I finally got her to take it. But I’m afraid it will be wearing off soon. I’d better go.”

“I’ll speak to the Head Priestess and the Council,” Sylvan told him. “Be ready later this evening.” He offered Brand his arm and Brand took it.

“Thank you,” he said again. “I just hope this helps. If it doesn’t…” He shook his head. “I’m all out of ideas.”

“Have faith,” Sylvan said comfortingly. “The Goddess is willing to help when we call on her. She’s never failed me yet.”

“Nor me,” Brand admitted. “But I’ve never had a problem like this one before.”

He still didn’t know if the Goddess would care about a foreign female who didn’t even know her or worship her. Still, he had no other ideas of how to help his wife and he was, as the humans said, “at the end of his rope.”

“Have faith,” Sylvan said again. “I’ll see you later tonight.”

He clapped Brand on the shoulder and left to go make the arrangements.

Brand, with a sigh, headed back to his suite. He only hoped the Cleansing Ceremony would help Allara.

If it didn’t, he didn’t know what else to do.

Forty-Five

Stupid girl—evil girl! You should have killed him—you failed to complete your mission!

You tried to kill your husband—what a horrible person you are! Why are you even still alive?

Kill yourself!!!

Allara curled into a ball on the bed and put her hands over her ears, as though she could block out the awful internal voices the way she could block external ones. But it didn’t matter what she did, the voices tormented her.

One voice sounded like her aunt—it whispered again and again what a failure she was, how she had shamed her family and her people, and how every one of the Q’ess despised her now and reviled her name.