Loving a Stranger Read online

  Now, after a long slog to the market which she hoped she wouldn’t get in trouble for when Harryx found out she had gone alone, she had spent it down to the last centine in order to get everything she needed. The walk back was hot and weary—the gracken haunch was extremely heavy—and she found herself with less time than she wanted to make everything.

  Nonetheless, she set to work, deciding to roast the haunch at a higher temperature in order to get it done in time for Harryx’s usual dinner time that evening. But then her volute soup wouldn’t gel and the yerna sauce turned a bright purple. It was supposed to have been blue and after a few moments, Nallah realized what was wrong. The man running the produce stall had sold her inferior yernas—the cheap kind only good for grinding up into pet food—though he had charged her for the most expensive kind, which were what she needed.

  She remembered with dismay how she’d thought the small, rounded vegetables which were all uniformly dusky gray on the outside didn’t look right. But when she’d tried to ask the stall owner about it, he had snarled at her and shoved the bag of yernas into her basket, telling her to shut up and take what was given to her. Then he’d ripped the money from her hand, refusing to give her even the few centines in change she ought to have had.

  Such treatment at the market wasn’t that unusual. Males ruled there as they did everywhere on Hascion Five. Nallah usually tried to go to that particular stall when the owner’s son was there—he was younger and usually kinder than his surly father. But in this case she’d had no choice—she had to have yernas for the recipe she wanted to make and this was the only stall in the market that sold them.

  She stared in dismay at the purple sauce. She couldn’t serve this to Harryx! It would have to be thrown away. But how would she explain serving gracken haunch with no yerna sauce? And what would he think if he learned how much money she’d spent on the ingredients?

  Just then she heard a yowling out in the woods behind the house and her ears pricked up immediately. It was Patta, her one remaining lanna and she sounded as though she was in pain.

  “Patta?” Putting the offending purple sauce back on the cook-top, she ran out the back door, wiping her hands on a dishcloth as she went. “Patta, where are you?”

  The piteous yowling came again—it seemed to be coming from the tangle of briars. Visions of the fluffy little animal all tangled up in the creeping, thorny vines and unable to get free came to Nallah’s head.

  “Hang on, Patta,” she cried, wading into the snarl of briars. “I’m coming, little one. Just hang on.”

  But though her clothing snagged and the long, cruel thorns ripped and tore her skin, she still couldn’t get to her crying pet. Worse, the cries seemed to be getting weaker and then they stopped altogether.

  Nallah felt panic rising in her throat. What if Patta was truly hurt out there somewhere? What if one of her paws was broken or she’d been bitten by a bigger animal? Lannas weren’t really bred to be outdoor pets. They needed to be kept inside due to their diminutive size and sweet temperament.

  This is all my fault, she found herself thinking. If I hadn’t sent her out doors…if I hadn’t forced her to become a wild creature instead of living in the house with me…

  NO, whispered a new voice in her head—a new thought she hadn’t allowed herself to think before. No, this is Harryx’s fault. If he hadn’t killed Pitta you wouldn’t have had to send Patta out. If she dies you’ll have no one. And he might be acting nice now but who knows how long it will last? How long until he hits you again—hurts you again? And what will you do when he does? Nothing—just like you did nothing when he killed Pitta. Because there’s nothing you can do. You’re nothing but a woman and women don’t count.

  It was the first time she’d ever allowed herself to feel anger at her husband. Harryx’s cold silences and red-hot rages had always been too frightening to permit herself the luxury of her own anger. But now that he seemed to have changed, she felt somewhat safer and somehow the anger came out. Though she had told herself before that she didn’t hate him, now she felt the opposite to be true.

  “I hate him,” she whispered to herself, her voice breaking on the words. “I hate him!”

  It was then that a heavy hand fell on her shoulder, making her nearly scream with fright. She turned so fast that a seeking bramble tore off her veil, but she hardly noticed. Standing behind her was Harryx, a worried look on his face.

  “Nallah, what’s going on?” he demanded, frowning. “What are you doing out in the briar patch and what’s burning in the food prep area?”

  “Burning? Oh my God-King!” Nallah exclaimed. “The gracken haunch!”

  Tearing through the undergrowth and creepers, she ran back to the domicile to see that the entire kitchen was filled with smoke. The volute soup was a solid mass and the purple yerba sauce had boiled over and was a blackened crust on the hot cook-stove which contributed to the hideous burning smell. But the thick, black smoke coming from the grill-oven was the main problem.

  Gasping and choking, Nallah turned off all the burners and the oven and grabbed a heat-proof hand-safe to pull open the oven door. As soon as she did, even more billows of thick smoke came rolling out, making her cough and gag.

  “Here, this is no good. It has to come out.”

  Grabbing the hand-safe from her, Harryx lifted the heavy pan holding the gracken haunch and dumped it into the sink. It was a blackened, smoldering husk, Nallah saw, her very soul shrinking in mortification. The fatty parts of it were actually on fire.

  Her heart filled with despair. Harryx was going to think she was the worst cook and the worst wife anywhere in the whole world. He would tear her veil and scar her face and turn her out in the street to become one of the Disgraced. She would be caught and punished every night by the Punishment gangs, just as poor Gemmah had been until one day they killed her and her body was found floating in the river. She might as well die now—it would be an easier end.

  “What happened?” he asked from the sink where he had finished putting the burning meat out. “Are you okay? What were you doing out there, anyway?”

  Nallah swallowed hard, trying to force the tears that threatened down and away.

  “I…I was out looking for Patta,” she said, her voice catching in her throat. “I thought…thought I heard her crying in pain but I couldn’t find her. I must have lost track of time and…and the dinner got burned. I’m so sorry, oh my husband.”

  “Patta is…your pet,” he said, as though trying to remember.

  “Yes, she’s my pet.” Sudden anger flared in her. “She’s the only pet I have left since you…since you killed…” She could feel her face twisting the wrong way, could feel the tears rising in her eyes even though they were forbidden. “Since you killed Pitta,” she got out at last.

  “He…I mean I killed your pet?” There was a horrified look on Harryx’s face she’d never seen before. For a moment he closed his eyes, as though searching for the memory of the event in his brain. At last he looked at her again, his eyes filled with remorse. “Gods, I did.”

  Despair suddenly made Nallah reckless and she spoke to her husband—her lord and master—in a way she never had before.

  “Yes, you did. You killed her!” Rage rose afresh in her breast, making her sick with anger and sorrow. “My little lannas were all I had to love and you killed one of them and forced me to put the other out. And now Patta is probably dying too only I can’t get to her and it’s all your fault!”

  She knew she would be punished severely for her words but she was already going to become one of the Disgraced anyway. What else could Harryx do to her that was worse than that?

  Her husband’s eyes went dark—as black as the waves of a midnight sea. Leaning down to her, he said in a low, intense voice,

  “Hit me.”

  “What?” His words shocked her so much Nallah was certain she had misunderstood him. But then he said it again.

  “Hit me,” he repeated, holding her eyes with his. “I�