What did it do to me? she wondered. Did it take my virginity? Is there anything left of my maidenhead?
This was an important question—or it had been in her past life. The high-powered men who bought themselves brides and concubines from Twyleth Tigg expected a verified virgin who would bleed on her wedding night—or her taking night—depending on her new status.
Of course, there were other ways to verify virginity. The awful stick that had been used on her at the auction block was one. There were more modern ways too—Lan’ara had learned all about them when she and the other girls were told what they could expect upon reaching the homes of the men who had bought them.
There were meters and probes that could tell if a girl had ever had male seed inside her—those didn’t rely on the state of the maidenhead to verify if a girl was untouched or not. They were also considered more accurate, since a simple surgery could restore a lost maidenhead—if a girl knew where to go and had enough credit to pay for it, which Lan’ara didn’t, of course.
For a moment, Lan’ara wondered if Senator Pouncenblast would still want her now that the stick had torn her open—then she pushed the thought away.
She wasn’t going to be the Senator’s bride anymore. Not now. Now she was owned by the big, grim-faced Kindred who was carrying her through the dusty marketplace like she was a burden he was doomed to bear.
But he doesn’t seem to want me either, Lan’ara thought, risking another look at his handsome face, which was set in lines so stern it looked like it had been carved from granite. He seems angry to have me, for all that he bought me and spent so much to get me!
A plan began to form in her mind. If the Kindred didn’t want her, maybe he would take her to Genu Six and deliver her to Senator Pouncenblast instead. The Senator hadn’t paid her full Bride Price yet—only half the contract was paid at the Beauty Ball and the other half at the time of delivery.
Lan’ara didn’t know how much had been paid for her, but surely forty thousand credits would be nothing but a drop in the bucket to a man so obscenely wealthy he owned his own island. He might be just as happy to pay the second half of her contract to the big Kindred as to the Twyleth Tigg Academy, since the academy was no more.
But of course, that depended on whether the big Kindred would be willing to help her in any way, she thought, feeling a surge of despair. And depending on how the Senator verified virginity, it might also depend on her maidenhead and the state of the place between her legs. But even if he used the seed-meter which told if a girl had ever had male seed inside her, he surely wouldn’t want her when she was torn and bruised and wounded.
“No man wants used or damaged goods!” Lady Telga, the Sexual Instruction teacher had constantly lectured them at the academy. “You must preserve your virtue and virginity for your husband or master to be! Else you’ll end up in the Flower House, spreading your thighs for any male with enough coin to buy you for the night!”
Lan’ara had taken her warning to heart—she wanted nothing to do with the Flower House. Far better to service one man—even an ugly, old one—than to service dozens or perhaps even hundreds of them over and over again until she herself was too old and worn out to be considered beautiful anymore and was cast aside into a life of abject poverty and disgrace.
But what will happen to me now? she wondered, glancing up at the Kindred again. He still looked angry and he was also certainly very strong. He’d been carrying her for over a quarter of an hour without showing any sign of weariness, though Lan’ara definitely fell into the “pleasingly plump” category in the Twyleth Tigg Academy catalogue.
What would happen if he decided he didn’t want her again? If he chose to leave her here, on this strange planet, instead of taking her with him? But even if he took her, it wasn’t like her future was secure, Lan’ara admitted to herself. She didn’t even know what he did for a living. For that matter, she didn’t even know his name—nor did she dare to ask. Not when he was so angry. She would just have to go on calling him “my Lord” as they had been taught to call men to flatter them at the academy.
The big Kindred seemed tireless. Before Lan’ara knew it, they had reached the spaceport on the outskirts of town. It was a vast, paved circle divided by glowing holo-lines into wedges like a pie. In each wedge was a ship—some big and some small. The floating holo-lines moved and adjusted in order to accommodate them so that some of the wedges were narrow and small and some were huge. Within them, Lan’ara saw all kinds of ships—both shiny and new and others which were battered and worn from years of interplanetary travel.