“I do not understand,” Allara said blankly. “He will have a skora too? And why must he wound me between my legs before I may kill him?”
“It is…” her Aunt seemed to be groping for words. “Have you ever seen the canines together when the bitches come into heat?”
Allara frowned. “Once or twice, but my governess always shooed them away with the broom. What of it? What does the way the canis play together have to do with my mission?”
Her Aunt made an impatient sound through her long, skinny nose.
“Forget about the canis. It is the way of a man with a maid, I am talking about. Tell me, have you heard anything about that at all?”
Allara furrowed her brow. Once or twice she had heard the female servants whispering of the handsome men they liked, but they always shut their mouths hurriedly if they noticed her nearby. As a daughter of one of the Seven Great Houses, she had to be kept pure and innocent—her ears unsullied by common talk.
This had never bothered Allara. She knew that a man and a maid came together in some fashion to form babies, but she didn’t know how, nor did she care to know. Why should she, when there were no babies in her own future? No family or friends—no husband who would truly love and honor her.
There was nothing but death for her—no path past the assassination she had been raised to perform. Everything else was meaningless.
“No,” she said coldly. “I do not know much of how a man is with a maid. Only that in some way he makes a baby to grow in her belly but as to how, I have no idea. Nor do I care.”
“You must care,” her aunt said, frowning. “For the ancient Blood Feud cannot be satisfied until your Kindred husband has taken you in the way a man takes a maid. Only then may you kill him.”
“But…” Allara shook her head, puzzled at this new wrinkle in the well-known, often-rehearsed plan. “But how am I to know when that happens since I know nothing about it, Aunt?”
“I am going to tell you,” her aunt said, frowning. “Now, attend to me…”
She spoke at length and when she was finished, Allara could not hide the alarm she felt.
“I must let him do that to me?” she exclaimed, her eyes growing wide.
“You must,” her aunt said firmly. “Until he does, the Blood Feud cannot be satisfied. For such was done to your ancestress and you are going to avenge her pain and shame.”
“But…but the Kindred are so much larger than we are,” Allara protested. “What is the size of the, er, skora that he will plunge within me?”
“Quite large, given the giants’ size,” her aunt said grimly. “You must expect a great deal of pain and bleeding, I would think, if he tears you—as he most likely will. But you must bear it, no matter how roughly the Kindred takes you. Only when he fills your womb with his seed may you kill him. Not before.”
“Why was I not told this before!” Allara exclaimed. “I do not care if it was improper to tell before my wedding,” she added, when her aunt started to protest. “I should have been prepared for it! I have been ready to kill and to die all my life, but no one told me I must submit to this indignity, this…this shame. I—”
Her aunt slapped her cheek hard, cutting off her words.
“Foolish girl!” she hissed. “What do you think the other girls of your age will endure tonight after they have been sold off at the Bride Auction? Do you think you are the only female who must spread her legs for her husband’s shaft?”
Her words silenced Allara—and shamed her.
“I did not know,” she said in a low voice. “You mean that all women must suffer this, no matter who they marry?”
“Of course—it is part of marriage.” Her aunt sniffed. “I ached for the entire first month of my marriage, until I got used to your uncle’s rough treatment. I cried into my pillow every night after he finished taking his husbandly rights. But did it do me any good? No, it did not.” She glared at Allara. “Nor will it do you any good to snivel and whine now. This is part of your mission and you must swear to me now that you will do it correctly.”
Allara nodded, her heart pounding in her chest.
“I swear it,” she said, her voice trembling only a little. “On the bones of my ancestress—she who was taken and wronged by the Kindred three and thirty generations ago—I will fulfill my duty.”
It was not the first time she had given this vow. It had been taught to her when she was just a child, barely able to lisp the words—she had said it like a prayer before bedtime every night.