Chapter Fifteen

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It has been a little over two nights since my horrific encounter with the queen. Apart from striking my cheek, she made it her life's mission to ensure that I suffer for my transgression. Now, I can barely hold my weight. My knees buckle beneath me.

I have not come upon food, only living by quenching my thirst and by the grace of the heavens. All these is courtesy of the queen's orders. She loathes me, she does. Resents the very sight of my shadow, I know this.
Of course, I cannot make my lamentations to anyone, cannot bemoan or let myself wallow in self pity.

None truly cares for another's woes. We are all too engrossed in our own little hells to offer the solace we ourselves desperately seek. My stomach gnaws on itself, pains me beyond any anguish fathomable, reminds me of how I nearly lost conscious in the wee hours of morning whilst I prepared Amir's bathe.

The lad has tried to get me to speak on what ails me, countlessly. In all truth, what should be the point of pitting son against his own mother? And what should I say to him, I who serves as a slave. Grace, I have reduced myself to nothing short of a self loathing lass. So entrapped inside conflict of thoughts. So lost in them.

I sigh using whatever little strength. I blink once, blink severally to dissipate all thoughts. I work to keep from tumbling and losing consciousness due to the feebleness that keeps creeping into my body so relentlessly. The sun beats down upon me so mercilessly as I stand rooted to the left of a sitting and powerful Amir.

Today, civilians and soldiers and nobles and the members of the royal family all assemble within the city gates to witness the execution of four town transgressors. A brutal execution it shalt be I hear. I wait, I dread, I nearly fall to the temptation of the dizzy spells.

"Ali Saida, you are to suffer an execution before the eyes of the people of Akhila Kingdom. You are charged and hereby convicted for the brutal murder of a civilian. Step forward," the announcer's voice reads from his papyrus scrolls and the shackled already-bleeding offender is yanked forward by an armed soldier.

His steps falter, he tumbles onto one knee and the thick red leaks from his nostril as he is lead to the gallows. A noose is fitted around his throat by the giant of a hangman.

"Mehujael Adah, you are to suffer an execution before the eyes of the people of Akhila Kingdom. You are charged and hereby convicted for the death of a civilian and his wife. Step forward," the scroll is read a second time and yet another soldier leads the young lad towards the gallows.

And again, noose is brought around throat firmly. Throughout the entire process, all men, women and children fall mute, silently spectating, silently judging. The man stood upon the raised platform reads once more from his scrolls of death.

"Zillah Bilha, you are to suffer an execution before the very eyes of the people of Akhila Kingdom. You are charged and hereby convicted for the merciless death of a young, infant child. Step forward."

For the very first time, I come upon an offender who bursts into mourning and wailing. My stomach knots even further and I nearly retch. Should she have done such a horrendous thing to a young child? Should it be true or merely a falls accusation? Does she wail for the loss of the child or over her impending doom? I nearly retch again.

Grace be my salvation, grace be my aid now I pray you. The soldier drags her by her shackled wrists. Her wet hairs cling to the skin of her face as the hot tears spill and drench the front of her dirtied dress. She begs, the saliva pours from her mouth, she pleads, the sweat dribbles down her forehead and temples and neck as the soldier draws her forcefully towards the gallows. Noose is brought about her neck in a firm tug by the hangman but she still jerks violently despite her shackles.

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