The Burning

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"I want the Hattavah"

Keilah

The Burning would happen today, after all.

From the arched window in her chambers, Keilah saw the soldiers carrying her mother's body in through the metal-clad front gate. They must have marched without pause through the night to get here so fast. They still sang that haunting funeral song. A crowd of slaves, servants and even some lesser Wayvolkan gathered to bow before her mother's body and sing too. If only she could join in, but the intricacies of the the four-part harmony eluded her.

"Get my blood-red gown," she told Alyssia who scurried to obey, helping her into the flowing dress. At the thought of the funeral ahead, so different from the village-style Remembering, Keilah felt suddenly uneasy.

"Do you think he'll be there?" she asked Alyssia who had begun pinning her hair so it would sit neatly beneath the blood-red mourning cap.

"Who?"

"The Hattavah."

"I don't know," Alyssia said though her amber eyes seemed to brighten. "He could be guarding Lord Rustavan."

"I need him there." Keilah's voice faltered. "He's the only one who knew my mother like I did."

Alyssia's eyes widened but she did not press for further details. "I'm sure you can order him there if you want him."

Order him? Of course. Keilah relaxed. As the heir, she could demand his presence. He'd want to be there to grieve alongside her. Perhaps he'd even hold her hand like he had Alyssia's.

Her confidence restored, she made her way to the priestess's section of the House. Behind her, Alyssia carried a small wooden bowl in preparation for her part in The Burning.

Her Baba was waiting for her in the sparse entrance-way to the priestess's twelve rooms. A mixture of relief and annoyance crossed her face on seeing Keilah. "There you are dear, at last."

Together they went into the third room which was long, narrow and windowless. Keilah coughed as the thick smoke from the burning tapers rushed up her nose and into her mouth. When she finally could breath freely, she scanned the room. It was crowded with the unfriendly relatives she'd met the night before - the lesser uncles and their wives and her mother's older cousins, but the Hattavah was not with Lord Rustavan. She looked at all the slaves at the edges of the room. He was not there either.

"I want the Hattavah." Keilah tried to whisper but in the stillness of the room her voice sounded too loud.

Lord Rustavan, on the other side of her grandmother, leaned towards her with a nasty smirk. "He's not yours to command; he's mine. If you want to spend time with him, you'll have to pay for him just like all the others."

She held his small spiteful eyes for a moment, trying to convey the force of her disappointment before nodding. "I'll pay for him then to be here." It would be worth every last coin Baba had given her to have him share this moment of grief with her.

Lord Rustavan gave her a mock-frown. "Unfortunately he's away for the day, off arranging your entry to the Vixen Trials."

Keilah scrunched her face and turned away, not wanting him to see the tears pricking her eyes. She'd have to bear this alone.

As if on cue, the priestess paraded into the room carrying a large glass urn full of blood. Four tall slave girls followed, bringing in her mother's body and placing it on the stone platform in the middle of the room. Only her mother's head was uncovered, but Keilah could not bear to look at it.

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