Never shall your Song be free…Never shall your Song be free…
“She is in a vulnerable state,” she heard the priestess tell Brand. “She is reliving the memory of what was done to her when she was only twelve cycles old. When you touch her, you will see it.”
“I will?” Brand was frowning uncertainly. “What can I do?”
“Touch her and see,” the priestess murmured. “Go on—do not be afraid. Touch her and you will know what to do.”
Brand put his big, warm hands on her shivering shoulders and Allara heard him suck in a breath.
“Oh, sweetheart,” he murmured and there was horror and compassion mixed in his voice. “It’s worse…so much worse than I imagined,” Allara heard him tell the priestess. “She’s naked and frightened and so small. She’s crying and shivering and they’re throwing blood at her and telling her she’ll never be free! How can they do this to her?”
“Her past has great evil in it, warrior, but you can make it better. Look at your wife and see what she needs,” the priestess urged gently.
Brand was silent for a long moment and the chanting of the Song Leaders seemed to grow louder. They dipped their long fingers into wooden bowls of the sacrificial blood and flicked it on Allara’s bare skin, covering her in filth…smearing her in the awful crimson streaks that would never wash off…
“Oh, now I know,” Brand murmured at last, squeezing her shoulders lightly. “I know what you need, sweetheart.”
His big hands left her shoulders and Allara heard a splashing sound as he dipped them into the fountain. Then, starting with her face, he began to smooth the clear, silvery water over her skin.
At first Allara flinched—inside she was still the frightened, crying child, rubbing at the blood on her face and skin, sobbing when her attempts to be clean only smeared the ugly crimson and made the stain worse.
But then, something began to change. The slimy droplets of blood on her face were gone. The water was washing them away—Brand’s big, gentle hands were cleaning her—cleaning away the dirty stain of her past.
“More,” she whispered, looking up at him. “Oh, husband—please, more.”
“Yes, sweetheart. Of course.” Brand’s deep voice was hoarse with emotion as he dropped to his knees to reach her better. Dipping his hands in the fountain again, he began to smooth the clear, cleansing water over the rest of her body.
As he did, Allara looked down and didn’t see the blood anymore. He was washing it away and with it, the pain and hurt and guilt of her past. She could feel them disappearing as the water did its job and her husband gently bathed her with love and understanding, his big hands touching her everywhere and washing away the stains.
“Turn around, sweetheart,” he murmured. “Let’s make sure we get you all clean.”
Obediantly, Allara did as he said, turning to let him wash the rest of her. As he did, the chanting of the Song Leaders grew softer and the memory of that old trauma seemed to grow fainter. At last, Allara couldn’t hear them at all and the voices in her head faded too.
Suddenly, a new voice took their place—a strong, feminine voice filled with power and love and compassion.
“Daughter,” it said, “Be free of your past. Your guilt is forgiven and your pain is purged.”
As the voice spoke, a wind scented with trees and flowers whirled around Allara, drying her skin and causing her hair to whip around her face.
“Be free,” the voice whispered in her ear and it almost felt as though a pair of invisible arms embraced her. “I free you now—I free your Song. ALWAYS shall your Song be free!”
“Oh…” Allara looked around in wonder as the wind died down. “Is that…the Kindred Goddess?”
“It is indeed, daughter.” The priestess smiled at her. “She has forgiven you. Now, you must forgive yourself.”
“I will,” Allara murmured and to her wonder and joy, she found that she actually could let go of the awful guilt that had tormented her nonstop for what felt like forever. She looked at Brand with shining eyes. “Husband,” she whispered. “You cured me!”
“No, baby—the Goddess cured you. She just let me help.” He pulled her into his arms and held her close to him and for the first time in a long time Allara found she was able to hug him back without guilt or shame.
“Husband,” she whispered, pressing close to him. “Thank you for forgiving me.”
“Gods, it’s so good to hear you call me that again!” Brand murmured hoarsely. “Love you so much, baby. Let’s go home so I can hold you.”
“I’d like that.” Allara nuzzled closer to him, loving the familiar, spicy scent of his skin. “I want you to hold me all night long.”
Forty-Seven
Brand carried her to a different suite—a guest suite he’d asked Sylvan for the use of. He didn’t want to bring his bride back to the place where so much strife and sorrow had happened between them. He wanted to start fresh with Allara, and love her in any and every way that she would let him.
As he cradled her to his chest, he was so glad and grateful that the Goddess had intervened to help rid the woman he loved so desperately of her guilt and shame. He could see the difference in her lovely, indigo eyes when he looked at her. They were no longer clouded and sad. Instead he saw new joy and hope there. It was almost as though she had been born anew, there in the Sacred Grove, when he washed the bloody stains of her past away and broke the bonds of the Unbreakable Oath that had bound her for so many years.
I never should have doubted, he thought and sent a silent prayer upward. Thank you, Goddess. Thank you for caring about Allara, even though she was not born as one of your children.
All who wish to be are my children, he seemed to hear the Goddess whisper in his ear. I will always be there to help and guide them.
Gratitude filled him and he hugged Allara even closer to him as he approached the door of their new suite.
“Husband?” Allara murmured. “This is not our suite, is it?”
“No, baby. I wanted a fresh start,” Brand told her. “I thought it would be good to spend the night someplace else tonight.”
“That’s a good idea.” There was relief in her voice. “I like starting fresh.” She shivered slightly. “But will this new suite have a bathing pool? I find myself still chilled by the water from the fountain.”
“Of course, baby. Would you like to take a dip together—just like during our Bathing Week?” Brand asked her.
Allara nodded and gave him a shy look.
“Will you wash me again? Like you did during that week?”
“I’d love to wash you, baby,” Brand growled softly. To be honest, he would have been willing to do almost anything to touch her once more. She’d been keeping herself rigidly separated from him for days and he ached to be close to her again, skin-to-skin.
Allara seemed to feel the same way because she nuzzled close to him, pressing her face to the side of his neck and breathing in deeply.
“Mmm, husband, I missed your spicy scent,” she murmured softly.
“I missed your scent too, baby. I missed everything about you,” Brand told her as he opened the door to the suite.