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  “You mean it can wipe away bad memories? Past trauma? Things like that?”

  Lit’aal nodded eagerly. “Oh yes, Khalla-to-be! It is only by allowing the lisix do its work that you will be considered clean and fit to be mated to one of the candidates. Otherwise…”

  “Otherwise they may reject you,” Turra finished for her, looking grim. “You must come to the ceremony clean and fresh and new. If you do not, it will be known when Mother Chundra looks into you.”

  Emily hesitated, considering. On one hand, if Lit’aal and Turra were right, this slimy, giant slug could perform some kind of memory wipe and take away the awful recollections she had not only of Grayson and the rape but also of Jason and how horrible and inadequate he’d made her feel.

  On the other hand, giant alien slug. All…over…her…body.

  Ugh! She shivered at the thought. She could still remember playing happily in Sherando lake as a little girl, she and Anna splashing each other until Anna had stopped and pointed to her hand. “What’s that?” Emily had looked down and seen the fat, black thing sticking to the back of her hand, pulsing as it drank from her. Emily had screamed and screamed and when Anna brushed it off and it left a trail of blood, she’d gotten so light headed she nearly fainted.

  The memory still gave her the heebie-jeebies. But it wasn’t nearly as ugly as the memories this thing could erase. Should she do it? Just the thought of going back into the tub voluntarily and letting that thing ooze its way up her body made Emily feel like she was going to be sick. But still…

  “You should complete the treatment, Khalla-to-be,” Turra said, frowning disapprovingly at her. “It will clear the way for your Kit’tara to emerge and make you more acceptable to the candidates.”

  Emily’s resolve, which had been seriously wavering, hardened at once. The other might be getting closer to the surface all the time but she’d be damned if she would help the other girl take over her body completely. In fact, she intended to fight it for as long as she could. I don’t want to die just so she can be born, she thought. And besides, did she really want to get rid of her bad memories so desperately she’d allow a giant leech to cover every inch of her skin?

  No, she thought with some surprise. Not anymore. I faced them—Tragar helped me face them and I’m stronger because of it. I don’t need to run away or feel ashamed—what was done to me was not my fault. I’m not going to let that slug thing wipe my mind just to get rid of it. My past is part of me, damn it and I will not apologize for it!

  “No,” she said looking at Turra, who rolled her eyes in obvious disgust. “No, I won’t do it. And I don’t care what all the candidates think of me because Tragar is the only one I want and he already knows everything there is to know. He knows and he loves me anyway.”

  “Suit yourself, Khalla-to-be.” Turra looked angry but Lit’aal pressed her hand gently.

  “You must do what you feel is right,” she told Emily. “I understand how hard this process can be. My friend, Rennaly, had a very difficult time during her own Tenrah.”

  “Thank you for understanding.” Emily smiled at her, feeling her heart begin to slow to a normal level at last. “And I’m sorry if this is getting you in trouble. I just can’t—”

  “I understand.” Lit’aal squeezed her fingers. “It will be all right, my Khalla—truly it will.”

  “My Khalla—that’s what Tragar always calls me.” Emily sighed. “I already miss him.”

  “You do not have long to feel such pain,” Turra remarked. “For now it is time for sleep.”

  “What? I don’t want to go to bed yet,” Emily protested. What she wanted was to go find Tragar somewhere but from the steely glint in Turra’s eyes, that wasn’t going to happen.

  “You will see him tomorrow. Come, Khalla-to-be, you must be well rested tonight. Early in the morning comes the Ceremony of Choosing.”

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Tragar stood in a semi-circle with five other candidates, feeling unworthy and out of place. Every other male in the vast Choosing Hall had been training for years for the right to be here and each was distinguished in his way. Tragar was willing to bet his ship that none of them had ever failed to protect the ones they loved or taken up assassination as a profession. Every one was pleasing to the female eye and every one had a clean and honorable past in addition to serving as warriors to protect their home planet of Rageron.

  I served once too, Tragar thought grimly. But it ended in disaster. Which was what he feared would happen during this Choosing Ceremony. All of the other candidates were wearing pure white robes but Tragar had elected to keep his black flight leathers and vest on. He wasn’t pure and clean within as the others were—there was no point in pretending otherwise by dressing up.

  They all stood quietly at ease, hands clasped behind their backs, feet apart. But inside his gut, Tragar could feel a knot of tension growing. He would be seeing Emily again in a few minutes and then no doubt watching as she was given to another male. After seeing the difference between him and the other candidates, it seemed inevitable. Why should she be with someone like him who had failed in a Kindred’s most basic duty—to protect the ones he loved—when she could have a war hero or a scholar or a renowned medic instead?

  Tragar had no answer for that. He simply tried to prepare himself for the inevitable.

  At last when he felt his ragged nerves couldn’t take another moment of waiting, Emily walked in. She was preceded by Mother Chundra and flanked on either side by the younger priestesses who had taken her away earlier. Emily was dressed in a long white robe like the others and Tragar thought she looked flustered and unsure of herself.

  His heart squeezed like a fist in his chest and he wanted badly to go to her and take her in his arms. It seemed like forever since he’d held her, even though it had only been hours. But since they had declared their love, he felt more attuned to her…and completely bereft when she wasn’t by his side.

  “Now then…” Mother Chundra came to a stop in front of the semi-circle of candidates and Emily and her two attendants stood quietly behind her. “Let the Choosing Ceremony begin,” she announced. “First, I will Look Into all the Candidates.”

  Emily looked confused by her words but Tragar knew well enough what they meant. He braced himself for the worst, stoically waiting to feel the priestess enter his mind and bring all his darkest secrets to light.

  This could not possibly end well.

  * * * * *

  Emily watched as one by one the candidates came up to Mother Chundra and knelt before her. They were all really nice looking guys with chiseled features and golden eyes and black hair—traits of the Beast Kindred, she supposed. But all of their handsome faces seemed to blur together into nothing when she looked at them. She only wanted Tragar but he was refusing to meet her eyes. What was going on?

  “You may rise, Daro. Your mind is clean and your past is spotless. You are a worthy candidate to be a chosen mate for the Khalla-to-be.” the High Priestess said to the fourth candidate to come kneel before her. So far she had said the same thing to all of them and now only Tragar was left.

  “What is she doing?” Emily whispered, nudging Lit’aal in the ribs as the handsome warrior rose and went back to his place in the semi-circle of males.

  “Looking into them,” Lit’aal hissed back, as though Emily should know what that meant.

  “Which means?” Emily persisted despite the way Turra was giving them both the evil eye for talking.

  “The High Priestess is able to look into the mind of a candidate and see his past. In this way she can judge if the candidate is worthy or not. All right, Turra, we’ll be quiet!” she added in a whisper as the other priestess glared at them and put a finger over her lips.

  Emily felt a stab of dread as Tragar stepped forward to stand before the High Priestess. She knew the awful things that had happened to the Big Kindred in the past and it had been terribly hard for him to tell her about them. It hardly seemed fair for him to have to
let the High Priestess into his head so she could see all his worst memories.

  They were standing behind Mother Chundra and a little to the side so she could see both the High Priestess and Tragar clearly as they came to face each other.

  “Come, Warrior—kneel before me that I may Look Into you,” the High Priestess commanded, motioning impatiently with one finger. She looked like she was ordering a dog to sit and it occurred to Emily that the other woman didn’t think much of Tragar or males in general. Maybe that was why she had become a celibate priestess in the first place.

  Tragar made no reply but knelt silently before the commanding priestess. Emily could see the stoic look on his dark features but she wondered what was going on behind that impassive mask.

  As she had done with every other candidate that knelt before her, the High Priestess placed the tips of her fingers over Tragar’s temples and closed her eyes. A look of concentration came over her face. But instead of letting him go after a moment and announcing that he was clear, she held on, her expression gradually transforming from intense focus…to concern…to horror.

  At last her eyes flew open and she pulled her fingertips away from Tragar’s temples as though she had been stung.

  “You…” Her voice failed for a moment and then she seemed to straighten up and force herself to continue. “You dare to submit yourself as a candidate to these holy proceedings?” she demanded, glaring at Tragar. “After all you have done? After the filthy impurities I have witnessed?”

  “I deny nothing,” Tragar growled. “I cannot change the past—I am only here for Emily’s sake.”

  “You are not fit to serve a Khalla!” Mother Chundra exclaimed. “You are not even fit to serve a normal female.”

  “Hey!” Emily had been fuming but Turra and Lit’aal had put their hands on her arms, silently cautioning her to be still. Now the other surged inside her and she couldn’t be quite anymore. “Hey!” she said again, shaking off their hands and going up to the High Priestess. “How dare you judge Tragar for what happened to him in the past? None of that was his fault.”

  “If you are referring to his painful and debilitating memories showing the loss of his mate and son, I will reluctantly agree that was not wholly his fault.” The High Priestess looked at her coldly. “But those are not the faults I speak of.”

  “Then what’s the problem?” Emily was well aware that she was going against protocol—every eye in the place was on her and most of the candidates were staring at her as though she’d grown a second head. She’d never much liked being the center of attention but she had to defend Tragar.

  “How do you dare to ask me that when you already know very well what wrongs this…this inferior male has committed?” the High Priestess demanded. “Must I list them all? Very well—firstly, having pledged his oath to the Verrak, he kills wantonly. Which means he has turned his back on the Goddess, to whom all life is sacred.”

  “Tragar has his own code of ethics—he’s never killed anyone who didn’t deserve it,” Emily said. “And besides, if he hadn’t been one of the Verrak, another assassin would have been sent to kill me and I’d be dead by now.”

  The High Priestess nodded grudgingly. “I will grant you that. It must have been the will of the Goddess for the contract of death that was placed on your head to fall to one of your kinsmen who knew what you were becoming.”

  “See?” Emily defended. “So it was the will of the Goddess that brought us together. You can’t argue with that.”

  “I said it was the will of the Goddess for him to find you—not for you to take him as your chosen mate.” Mother Chundra gave her a steely glare and then turned to face the candidates. “For as soon as he found the Khalla-to-be, this male began to mistreat and malign her.”

  “What?” Emily was dumbfounded. “What are you talking about? You must have seen wrong—Tragar never hurt me. He helped me.”

  “How—by striking you? For he did,” the High Priestess declared, looking at everyone assembled. “This male dared to strike a Khalla-to-be. First with his hand and then with his belt.”

  There was a gasp and a murmur of outrage from the assembled candidates. Several of them looked at Tragar as though they wanted to rip him limb from limb.

  “Wait!” Emily begged. “You’re taking that out of context! He, uh, spanked me in order to put the other back in her box. Un—drive my Kit’tara back, I mean,” she tried to explain quickly.

  “If I may explain, though I know it will do no good,” Tragar growled, rising to his feet. “Emily was going through her Tenrah too quickly. I feared she would go through all the stages before I could get her here to the Holy Mountains of Rageron. That was why I struck her.”

  “And I asked him to,” Emily said earnestly. “I was scared the other—my Kit’tara—was going to take over!”

  “Your Kit’tara will emerge in the fullness of time whether you wish it or not—it is blasphemy not to welcome her and long for her coming,” Mother Chundra said sternly. “But even that is not as bad as the other sin I saw in this male’s mind.” She glared at Emily. “Tell the truth, Khalla-to-be, did he or did he not imbibe freely of your nectar?”

  “He…uh…” Emily could feel her cheeks getting hot but she had to defend the man she loved. “He did,” she said, raising her chin. There were more startled and angry murmurs from the other candidates but she tried to ignore them. “He had to,” she said loudly, even though she felt like she was going to die of embarrassment. “My, uh…my nectar wasn’t flowing. If Tragar hadn’t…” She could feel her cheeks burning but she forced herself to continue. “If he hadn’t sucked it out, I might be dead right now!”

  “There is no excuse good enough to partake of a Khalla’s nectar,” the High Priestess declared.

  “So I should have let her die?” Tragar growled. “I could not do that. Though I take life for a living, I could not allow the female I love to die when I could help her. I knew it was sacrilege to suck the nectar from her breasts, and I did it anyway. I would do it again if it was the only way to save her life.”

  “How dare you speak such blasphemy before this assemblage!” The High Priestess glared at him and then turned to Emily. “You, Khalla-to-be, may be excused through ignorance of the enormity of your actions. But this male…” She turned a withering gaze on Tragar who simply stared back in stony silence. “This male had committed acts which are an abomination against the Goddess herself! That he even dares to show himself here is the worst kind of wickedness. I want him removed at once!”

  “What? No!” Emily exclaimed as two burly temple guards suddenly appeared on either side of her man. “No, leave him alone! Didn’t you hear him? He only did it to help me.”

  “The nectar of a Khalla must flow freely and none shall partake of it—not even her chosen mate on pain of death.” Mother Chundra sounded like she was quoting something—maybe a rule from the Kindred version of the Bible or some holy text. Whatever it was, Emily didn’t care. She rushed forward, trying to pry the guards’ hands off of Tragar’s arms.

  “Emily, no,” he said hoarsely, shaking his head. “No, it cannot be between us. I warned you this might happen.”

  “Why? Because you helped me? Because you saved my life?” she demanded, her voice breaking. “So what if you broke a rule to do it? It’s a stupid rule!”

  There was another collective gasp from everyone assembled and Emily got the distinct impression she’d just spit all over these people’s religion. But she didn’t care—it didn’t seem to be a true or devout faith. As far as she could see, it was just a set of rules that were keeping her and Tragar apart and she wanted no part of it.

  “Khalla-to-be!” The High Priestess exclaimed. “I know you are ignorant of our ways but this kind of talk is completely unacceptable. It is no better than blasphemy and—”

  Turra stepped up and whispered in her ear, giving Emily a significant look.

  “Ah—I see.” The look on the High Priestess’s face cleared for a moment
and she nodded before turning back to Emily. “I am informed that you refused most of the Feast of Becoming and did not allow the lisix to finish cleansing you while bathing in the Juice of Refreshment. Is this so, Khalla-to-be?”

  “Yes, it’s so.” Emily lifted her chin higher as her other surged again, giving her courage. “I’m sorry about the feast—the food tasted strange to me. But as for the bath, I’m not apologizing for that. I was allowed to get into a tub with what amounted to a giant alien leech and nobody told me anything about it until it was climbing up my leg! I had a Hell of a time getting away from it and there was no way I was going back for seconds.”

  Mother Chundra shook her head gravely.

  “This is a bad business indeed,” she said, frowning. “A Khalla-to-be must be a blank slate—an open door that her Kit’tara may step through without any hindrance or reservation. How do you expect to form a good bond with your chosen candidate when you have not allowed yourself to be cleansed of all impurities?”

  “Those impurities you’re talking about are my past! My thoughts and feelings and memories!” Emily exclaimed. “They’re what make me me. I’m not giving them up. Besides—Tragar already knows my past.” She pointed at the big Kindred who was still being held between the two Temple Guards. “He knows and it doesn’t bother him. And he’s the only one I want to be with—so it doesn’t matter.”

  “It does matter.” The High Priestess’s face darkened. “For you will never be allowed to be with a blasphemer such as this! Choose another! That is, if any will have you.”

  “No!” Emily glared at her defiantly. “Who are you to tell me who I can and can’t be with? You don’t even know me!”

  “We can certainly remedy that.”

  Before Emily could reply, Mother Chundra’s cold fingertips were pressed to her temples. There was a sensation of someone rifling through her brain and digging out her most awful memories. Somehow Emily understood it was the High Priestess going through her mind like someone might dig through a filing cabinet. She wanted to move, wanted to tear herself away but she was caught— held as though in an invisible net that wouldn’t let her go no matter how hard she tried to struggle.