“Well, that’s what we’re here to talk about.” Liv had a serious look on her pretty face that struck fear in Sammi’s heart. Instinctively she put a hand to her throat. It was still a little bit tender but no longer sore or painful—she seemed to be healing well, so what was the problem?
“Samantha…Sammi…” Liv came to sit on the side of her bed and took one of Sammi’s hands in hers. “You know that your trachea was partially crushed during the attack you suffered down on Earth, right?”
Sammi nodded and raised her eyebrows. Yes, and…?
“Well, your larynx—your voice box—was also damaged, we fear permanently,” Liv told her. “We’ve been hoping that spending a week of complete bed rest might enable it to heal some but, well…I understand from your friend Meg that you still can’t make any sounds?”
Well, I haven’t really tried since I’ve been under orders not to, Sammi wanted to say. She opened her mouth and tried—really tried—to talk for the first time since she’d woken up in the Med Center.
Nothing came out.
Sammi tried harder. She voiced a shout…that came out as soft choking sound and a rush of air. The effort felt like a knife in her neck and she gasped and put a hand to her throat, her eyes tearing up with pain.
“Don’t try that again,” Liv said anxiously. “You might make things worse.”
Worse than not being able to talk? Sammi thought, tears still stinging her eyes.
Would she have to go through life as a mute now? What if she wanted to move back to Earth and be a professor again? How would she teach if she couldn’t talk? What was she going to do?
“What is she going to do?” Meg asked, voicing her thoughts, much to Sammi’s relief. “She’s not just a scientist, you know—she’s a professor too. How can she teach without her voice?”
“Well, that’s what we’re here to talk about,” Liv said comfortingly, squeezing Sammi’s hand. “You see, though your original voice box was damaged beyond repair, Samantha, there is still hope for you to talk again. Yipper, here, is an expert at replacing damaged body parts.”
“So…you can build her a whole new voice box?” Meg asked, looking at the hairy little surgeon doubtfully.
“Yes I can, yes I can!” He nodded vigorously, his long ears flopping with the motion. “But…there is one problem. Yes there is, yes there is,” he added, looking more subdued.
“What?” Meg demanded as Sammi mouthed the same thing.
“Well…voice boxes are a very unique part of the body, yes they are, yes they are. No two human’s vocal chords are the same,” Yipper explained earnestly. “So while I can build a new voice box for you, Samantha, it will never quite sound exactly as your old one did. Your voice may never sound completely right to you. No it won’t, no it won’t.”
“So, you won’t be able to match her old voice?” Meg asked.
Yipper shook his head sadly.
“I will try, of course. Yes I will, yes I will! But I will not be able to make an exact match. However, any recordings you have of your old voice will be most helpful,” he added, looking at Sammi. “I will listen to them and try to ‘tune’ your new vocal chords to sound like the old ones as much as possible. Yes I will, yes I will.”
“I have recordings of lots of her lectures,” Meg volunteered. “From when I audited the very first class you taught,” she added, looking at Sammi. “Because you asked me to take it and let you know how you were doing?”
Sammi nodded gratefully at her friend. It was amazing that Meg still had those recordings—but they were from years ago. Would her new voice sound like her younger self? Would it sound like her at all? The little Tolleg surgeon was promising earnestly to do his best and it was amazing that he could replace a voice box, but what would she really sound like after the operation was complete?
“We’re not ready to do the operation yet, of course,” Liv said, breaking into her thoughts. “Yipper will need time to build your new larynx. But in the meantime, I’m releasing you from the Med Center. I understand you have a, uh, ceremony to attend in the Sacred Grove this afternoon?”
Yes—the Severing, Sammi thought as she remembered all over again that she and Roark would soon be splitting up forever. The thought made her want to cry and tears stung her eyes. She blinked them away and nodded shortly, trying not to let her emotions get the better of her.
“All right then.” Liv squeezed her hand comfortingly. “I’m going to release you from the Med Center and I’m going to ask you to continue to rest your throat and not try to say anything or make any kind of sounds. We’ll need you to be healed up completely before Yipper can replace your injured larynx with the new one.”
Sammi nodded dully. Why should she try to talk? She had nothing to say and no one to say it to.
Well, that wasn’t quite fair, she reminded herself. Meg was there with her and she knew her best friend would be by her side every minute of the day if Sammi needed her.
But right now, she just wanted to be alone.
I understand, she mouthed to Liv, who nodded.
“Good. Then you can gather your things and go whenever you want to.”
“We’ll be out of here in no time,” Meg promised, looking relieved. Sammi remembered that her friend wasn’t a big fan of hospitals, since she’d had to watch her grandmother die in one when she was in high school. But she had stuck by Sammi anyway, despite her own discomfort. She was a true friend.
She reached for Meg’s hand and squeezed it gratefully.
“I know—you’re going home!” Meg grinned down at her.
Sammi shook her head and mouthed, Ceremony.
“Oh, right.” Meg frowned. “Well, that shouldn’t take long, right? And afterwards I have an amazing girls night planned. We’re going to stay up late watching chick flicks and eating ice cream. I’m sending Berik to bed early so we’re going to have the whole suite to ourselves!”
Sammi tried to smile, but somehow the corners of her mouth just wouldn’t turn up. She knew that her best friend was trying to cheer her up, but she had a feeling that after the formal Severing from Roark, she would just want to lie in bed and cry for the rest of the night—possibly the rest of the month.
“It’s all right, hon.” Meg rose and gave her a hug. “I know it doesn’t seem like it now, but you’re going to get through this and everything will be okay.”
Sammi nodded and sniffed, trying to hold back her tears. But she just didn’t see how her best friend could be right—she was about to get the Kindred version of a divorce.
Nothing was ever going to be all right again.
Sixty-Two
Roark looked at himself in the 3-D viewer. He was wearing his best dress uniform—an emerald green, long-sleeved shirt with shiny gold buttons and the tight black trousers that went with it. His black boots had been shined to a high gloss—not that anyone would see them, as it was considered improper to walk on the holy ground of the Sacred Grove in anything but bare feet.
All in all, he looked like he was going to a Joining Ceremony.
When in fact, I’m going to the exact opposite, he thought ruefully.
His heart was aching and he couldn’t count the number of times he’d had to stop himself from going to Samantha and begging her to let him call it off. Once he had been actually in the Med Center with his hand on the door of her room…and then he had gotten hold of himself and forced himself to go back to his own suite.
I have hurt and demeaned her, he reminded himself grimly. She deserves to be free of me. No matter how much it pains me, how bleak my life will be without her, I must let her go.
It was only sheer determination and the knowledge of his own guilt that kept him going, that allowed him to dress himself like a bridegroom while knowing that after today he was never going to see the female he loved so desperately again.
They were not celebrating the beginning of a life together but the ending—a relationship cut short by his own selfishness and foolishness.
Th
is is my own fault, he reminded himself. Everything that happened to her is my fault and this is the only way to make things right. My honor demands that I set her free.
Your honor demands that you cut out your heart, whispered a little voice in his head.
Yes—that was how it felt, Roark thought, looking at himself once more. There was one more thing he lacked.
Going to his dresser, he picked up a black sheath and drew a gleaming ceremonial dagger from it. The blade was curved and there was a stone so red it was almost black set into its hilt—a blood stone.
This was the blade he would use for the Blood Letting part of the Severing—the part of the ceremony where he confessed his sins against the woman he was freeing and asked for forgiveness from her and from the Goddess.
Not that he could be forgiven for the things he’d done, Roark thought grimly. He sheathed the dagger again and fastened the sheath to his belt. It was time to be getting to the Sacred Grove so he could set Samantha free.
It was the only thing he could do, even if doing it made him want to die.
Sixty-Three
“My children, it saddens me greatly to have to perform this ceremony.” The Elder Priestess who was performing the Severing looked at both of them with sorrow in her green-within-green eyes.
Sammi had never seen a Kindred priestess up close and it occurred to her how strange it was that both the whites and the irises of their eyes were green. Even the woman’s silvery-white hair was streaked with emerald, as though it had been colored by the rays of the artificial green sun which shone down through the green and purple leaves of the trees that filled the Sacred Grove.
But it wasn’t the priestess she wanted to be looking at. Her eyes strayed to Roark, who was standing across from her like a bridegroom about to say “I do.” He looked stern and sad and he was devastatingly handsome in his dress uniform.
Sammi herself was wearing a pretty pale green dress that brought out her eyes. It was no bridal gown, but it was one of the nicer things she owned. She hadn’t wanted to wear it, but Meg had insisted that she dress up and look fabulous—both to honor the Sacred Grove and to show Roark that she was just fine without him. So her hair and makeup were also perfect—Meg had seen to that, as well.
Speaking of her best friend, Meg was currently standing to Sammi’s right and a little behind her.
Like she’s my maid of honor, Sammi thought, struck all over again how like a wedding this was. Though of course, it was the exact opposite. She looked at Roark again.
How can he want so badly to leave me that he’s willing to do a public divorce ceremony in the middle of the Sacred Grove? she thought sadly. Is it all just an excuse to never see me again? To not have to help raise the twins when they come?
But Roark had never seemed to dislike the idea of children. In fact, he was all about trying to help women who wanted babies have them. And he’d come from a large family himself—considering that he had two brothers and two fathers. So Sammi didn’t think her pregnancy and the impending birth of her daughters was the problem.
It must be me, she thought. He just doesn’t want to be with me. I’m defective somehow and he doesn’t want me.
The thought brought her so low that she could scarcely pay attention to the Elder Priestess’s next words.
“From the beginning of our people, this ceremony has been one fraught with pain and regret,” she said, her voice filled with sorrow. “A Severing is a permanent parting of ways—a promise to never see each other again. I ask you now, both of you, do you truly find it necessary to leave each other and never be together again in this life?”
“Yes.” Roark’s voice was low and harsh as he looked at the priestess intently. “We must be apart—I have wronged Samantha too greatly for us to continue through life together.”
“And you, my daughter? What do you say?” The priestess turned her green-within-green eyes on Sammi.
“She says yes also, Priestess,” Meg answered for her. “Sorry,” she added apologetically when the priestess frowned at her questioningly. “Her vocal chords were injured in an attack, so I’m here to speak for her. And also for moral support.” She shot Roark an angry glare and nudged Sammi comfortingly.
“I see.” The priestess frowned and looked at Roark. “Was it you who attacked this female and injured her throat? Is this why you seek a Severing?”
No! Sammi mouthed quickly but Roark said,
“I did not injure her myself, but it was my fault that she was attacked and injured, Elder Priestess.”
“And now she’s lost her voice permanently and the doctor is having to build her a whole new voice box,” Meg put in, giving Roark another angry glare.
Clearly, she was incensed at the way he was treating Sammi, though Sammi could only summon sadness herself. Even when she thought of how the big Shadow Twin was leaving her, she couldn’t find any anger in her heart—just a bone-weary sorrow at the thought of never seeing him again.
“I see,” the Elder Priestess said again, nodding. “Well then, as you are both in agreement that you must be permanently parted, let the Severing begin.” She sighed deeply and turned to Roark. “Are you ready, Warrior, to spill your blood and guilt on the altar of the Goddess? To confess your crimes against the one who was given to you to love and cherish? The one you failed to serve and protect as the Goddess intended you to?”
Roark’s face went pale but he lifted his chin. Sammi thought he looked like a condemned man who had been asked if he had any last words.
“Yes,” he said firmly, nodding. “Yes, Elder Priestess, I am ready.”
“Very well, then—you may begin.”
Roark drew a long, curving, silver blade from a sheath at his hip and held out his hand over the moss and wild-flower covered altar, which they were standing in front of. Taking a deep breath, he drew the blade across the palm of his hand.
Sammi winced as she saw the crimson blood begin to flow. Roark held his fist over the altar and ruby droplets pattered down on the moss and flowers as he spoke.
“From the moment I first saw Samantha Grey, I wanted her,” he said, speaking to the Elder Priestess and not looking at Sammi. “I coveted her for her beauty, her intelligence, and her ability to understand the work I was doing and help me in it. I wanted her in my life—I even thought I felt a sign that we should be together when I first touched her.”
A sign? When we touched? Suddenly Sammi remembered the strange sensation she’d had the first time she and Roark had shaken hands—way back during her job interview with him, which seemed like it had been a thousand years ago.
Her thoughts were dragged back to the present as Roark continued his confession.
“But I was attracted to Samantha for another reason. I…” He cleared his throat, his face turning a dull red with shame. “I lusted for her. Her full curves make her an Elite, which all males from my home planet of Twin Moons desire. And so I took her into my employment.” He took a deep breath. “Shortly after that, I began to abuse her.”
“Abuse her?” The Elder Priestess raised her eyebrows in apparent surprise.
“Yes,” Roark said harshly. “First, I demanded that she allow me to punish her for any perceived wrongs.”
“Punish her?” Meg interrupted, her eyes wide.
“Spank her,” Roark clarified.
“Spank her? He was spanking you?” Meg demanded, looking at Sammi.
Sammi felt her cheeks go hot with a flush. She nodded reluctantly.
“Oh my God!” Meg shook her head. “I can’t believe you put up with that, Sammi! You’re not the kind to just bend over and—”
“Excuse me, daughter, but you must not interrupt the Listing of Wrongs,” the Elder Priestess said sternly, frowning at Meg.
“Oh, I’m sorry! I’ll be quiet, I swear.” Meg mimed zipping her lips and stepped back to stand meekly behind Sammi again, much to Sammi’s relief.
“You may continue, Warrior,” the Elder Priestess said formally.
“Thank you.” Roark looked down at his clenched fist at his blood still dripping on the green and purple grass and the pale pink wildflowers. They reminded Sammi of the two little pink pregnancy flowers Liv had given her when she told Sammi she was pregnant.
“My abuse of Samantha did not end with simply spanking her,” Roark went on at last in a low voice. “I also…demanded that she submit to me in sexual ways. I thought at the time that she was submitting because she felt the same lust that I did. But I have recently come to understand that she was only doing what I told her to in order to keep her job and not be evicted from the Mother Ship.”
What? No! Sammi shook her head vigorously but everyone was looking at Roark, who was looking down at the blood-spattered moss and flowers.
Determined to be heard—or at least seen—Sammi reached over and tugged urgently at the flowing sleeve of the Elder Priestess’s long white robe.
The priestess frowned at her.
“You are not allowed to interrupt the Listing of Wrongs either, my daughter. You must wait until the end.”
Frustrated, Sammi nodded, though she was dying to set the matter straight. She tried to catch Roark’s eyes, but he was still staring down at the ground.
“Continue, Warrior,” the Elder Priestess said steadily. Sammi had the idea that Roark could confess to murder and she would still speak in that even, serene voice. She must have seen or heard a lot in her years as a priestess—or else hearing about kinky sex just didn’t bother her.
“I continued to wrong Samantha for as long as she was in my employ,” Roark went on stolidly. “I inseminated her with my own seed, though I lied and told her it was false seed I was using on her.”
“I knew it!” Meg exclaimed, earning herself a glare from the Elder Priestess. “Sorry,” she whispered and subsided again, though she continued to stare daggers at Roark.
“Though I was filling her daily with my seed, when Samantha came to me and told me she was pregnant, I didn’t believe that I could be the father,” Roark went on. “The twins in her belly are both female. I was so sure that my seed was non-functional that I accused her of cheating on me. Then I fired her and sent her away in tears.” He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple moving convulsively. “She…she was so upset that she went straight down to Earth where a human male was waiting to attack her.”
Submitting to the Shadow: Kindred Tales 27 Page 21