Raised to Kill

“I’m afraid so,” Brand admitted. “I placed the call to the Q’ess, asking that Allara’s people call us on the way home—just as I told you I would.”

“And did they call you?” Sylvan asked.

Brand nodded. “Oh, yes. The call came in and I introduced myself and let them know I was doing my best to take good care of Allara but they would barely say a word to me except to forbid me from taking her to see them. Then her father said he wanted to talk to her alone.”

“Do you know what he said?” Sylvan asked, frowning.

Brand shook his head.

“Not precisely but nothing very good, I’m afraid. I heard a lot of shouting and when I finally came back to the cockpit of the shuttle, the call had ended and Allara was just sitting there, staring straight ahead and saying nothing. I asked her what was wrong but she wouldn’t talk—just shook her head. But there were…were tears rolling down her cheeks.”

Brand felt his heart squeeze in anguish at the memory. This was his fault—he had caused Allara to cry by exposing her to what were obviously toxic people from her past. Goddess, how he wished he’d never done it!

“You can’t blame yourself, Brand,” Sylvan said, clapping him on the shoulder. “You were trying to do something nice for her—it’s not your fault that it turned out badly.”

“I should have asked her instead of springing it on her as a surprise,” Brand said, squeezing his hands into fists. “I should have known by the way she talked about them.”

“Why? What did she say?” Sylvan looked concerned.

“Oh, she never said much about her father but her aunt apparently filled her head with horror stories about our Joining night.” Brand sighed. “She told Allara I would force her and hurt her and that she must bear it because that’s what a proper wife does—things like that.”

“Gods, if they think that of us, no wonder they consider us their enemies.” Sylvan shook his head. “That poor little female!”

“She was frightened to death on our first night together,” Brand confided. “I had to explain all about the Claiming Period and promise again and again that I wouldn’t hurt her.” He sighed. “We were doing so well—she even told me she loved me while we were on Darden Three. And now I’ve gone and ruined everything.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Sylvan said gently, squeezing his shoulder. “Family matters can be…complicated. My own family was much less than welcoming to Sophia when I brought her to Tranq Prime the first time, but we got over it.”

“I don’t know.” Brand shook his head. “I just can’t get over the feeling that I’ve made a mistake I can never recover from.”

“Don’t think like that,” Sylvan told him. “Just go back to your suite and try to get a good night’s sleep. Things will look better to both of you in the morning.”

Brand sighed. “I hope you’re right.” He smiled briefly. “Thank you for your kind words.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Sylvan squeezed his shoulder again, sympathetically. “Take care and I’ll see you in the Council Meeting for your report on Darden Three in the morning.”

Brand nodded his thanks and the two men parted ways.

Thirty-Four

Brand wanted to apologize again or at least talk some, but when he got back to the suite, Allara was already asleep on her side of the bed. She was rolled up in a blanket, with only the tip of her nose sticking out.

Sighing, he got ready for bed as quietly as he could. This would be the first night of their marriage that he didn’t hold her in his arms as they drifted off to sleep together. Would she ever forgive him?

I suppose in a way this is our first fight, Brand thought unhappily as he slid into bed beside his wife, being careful not to jostle her. I knew it had to happen some time, I just didn’t expect her to shut down so completely. I wonder how long it will be before she forgives me?

He lay on his back and put out an arm, hoping she might roll towards him in the night. Maybe he would wake up with her cuddled against him, her sweet little head pillowed on his chest. He loved it when she used him as a pillow. It gave him a powerful feeling of protectiveness to cuddle her soft, curvy body close to his own, much larger one.

“Love you, baby,” he murmured to the sleeping form beside him.

Then, with a sigh, he closed his eyes and drifted into a troubled sleep.

Thirty-Five

Allara had been so upset by the vid call with her aunt and her father that she didn’t know what to do with herself. The memory of her childhood self, naked and shivering as the Song Leaders circled her in their black, hooded robes and flicked sacrificial blood on her bare skin wouldn’t leave her mind. She heard Brand trying to apologize, but she couldn’t make herself respond. It was as though a gray fog had descended on her—a fog only she could see, but which encased her completely and wouldn’t ever leave.