I strained forward, trying to see past others jostling for a good view themselves. Nudging around a man with a little girl on his shoulders, I managed to get a quick look at the platform. Simti and Huna, beaming, stood shoulder to shoulder, stooping from time to time to toss roses to the crowd from a dwindling pile at their feet. My little brother walked forward to hand a fresh basket of flowers to Simti, and when he looked up, his eyes landed on mine.
“Kasha!” I held up a hand, but he looked away, his cheeks reddening.
My stomach clenched.
That flush on his cheeks wasn’t from embarrassment that I’d shouted his name.
It was the look he’d worn when my mother found out he’d traded one of her necklaces for a poorly carved toy catapult in the Libbu.
It was guilt.
He knew something.
The crier held his hand up one more time to quiet the chanting of the crowd. “Fine ladies and gentlemen of Alu. There is one more girl who will have the distinct honor of joining the lugal in the afterlife, should he pass.” The crowd hushed as every face turned toward his booming voice like flowers into the sun. Without thinking, I reached for Dagan’s hand and clenched it with all my might.
“The third and final Sacred Maiden is—Nanaea, Healer’s Daughter!”
A collective gasp rose from the crowd as hundreds of faces turned to look at Nanaea. She stood, transfixed by shock.
But I—I couldn’t breathe.
I felt like a fish at the end of a spear, gasping for air. This was a mistake. It had to be a mistake. The crowd swam in front of me, wailing and stomping, some in celebration, some howling in rage, their faces transformed by fury that our disgraced family had been given the honor. My knees gave out, and all of a sudden, I was being held up by a pair of strong arms. Dagan pressed his lips to my ear and said something, but I couldn’t hear it. I couldn’t understand.
The only thing I could see was my little sister, with her bouncing curls and blooming cheeks, turning to me, her face radiant with joy. She tugged me away from Dagan and pressed me to her warm chest, and I clung to her as if I were drowning in a raging river and she was the only one who could swim. Too soon, she untangled herself from my desperate embrace and floated to the platform to join the two other Sacred Maidens. Someone placed a flower crown atop her head and draped a long necklace around her fair neck. She stood on the platform, shining like a star in the heavens, blowing kisses to the cheering crowd.
When I found my voice, I could not contain it. “Nanaea!” I screamed, choking on her name.
But others screamed for her louder.
On the platform, she preened like a bird, twirling as if she were already a queen. She was vibrant. Glowing. Blossoming like a rose in the sun. In her mind, this was her chance for glory, and my neighbors in the crowd weren’t helping. They drew near her like little moths to a flame, chanting her name and grasping her outstretched hands. For the briefest of moments, I allowed myself to admire how freely she could give in to her passions. She accepted moments of beauty when they came.
But I always saw the logic of things. And what Nanaea didn’t realize was that, although she might end up a queen in the Netherworld, she’d have to cross to the other side in the arms of the Boatman first.
And there was nothing I could do to stop it.
I SANK TO my knees, the feet of rejoicers kicking up sand around me.
“Kammani!” Dagan’s strong arms pulled me from the ground and against the warmth of his body. I turned to stone as his round, bright eyes searched mine. “It will be all right, sweet. Nanaea will be all right. She wants to go—” He grasped for any words that might comfort me, even though he knew just as well as I did that nothing would really calm me. Not now.
It would not be all right. Nothing was all right. She was my sister. We’d shared a bed since she was born, both of us breathing as one as we drifted to sleep, her head tucked into the crook of my arm. We’d sat at my ummum’s feet while she’d spun the pottery wheel, each taking a turn dipping our hands into the cool, gritty water. But since Kasha had been taken, our ummum had passed, and our abum had begun drowning her memory with the sikaru, Nanaea was the only person in my family I really had left.
And now the Palace wanted to take her away from me, too.
Iltani rubbed my back, scowling at Dagan. “This isn’t the time, you clot. Clearly, the honor is not so wonderful for K! Her sister is going to die. And Kammani’s already lost so much!”
My head swam with unshed tears. How was I going to explain this to Abum?
“I know.” Dagan’s voice rumbled against my ear. “I’m sorry. I wish the lugal hadn’t gotten sick. Then none of this would even be happening.”
“Well, no one can turn back time, so there’s no use thinking that way. If Lugal Marus is going to die, then Nanaea is going with him unless we flee the city.” Iltani dipped her head low and was chatting with Dagan about the possibilities of getting out—whom we could bribe, how much it would cost—when something she had said dinged in my brain.
I pushed away from Dagan’s embrace. “What did you say, Iltani?”
“I said, I think that surely we could get a guardsman to work with us.”
“No! Before that.”
“I have no idea.”
“You said, ‘If Lugal Marus is going to die.’ ”
“Yes. What of it?”
“Well, what if he lives?” I pushed my hair back from my eyes, looking wildly around the Libbu. The crowds were celebrating, heading toward the festivities near the gates, where musicians were already performing with songs and harps and tambourines. Nanaea and the other two Sacred Maidens, their eyes alight with the honor, were being carried on their cushions by the guardsmen. As Nanaea rocked unsteadily overhead, she threw back her head and laughed. Then her eyes landed on mine and she blew me a kiss.
Her naïveté sealed my decision.
“Are you all right?” Iltani grabbed my hands, my sorrow reflected in her soft eyes.
“Yes. Yes, I am. Because I know a way to prevent Nanaea from becoming a Sacred Maiden altogether.” I rubbed my hands down the sides of my tunic. “I have to go. I have to go to Assata’s.”
“What are you talking about? For sikaru?” Dagan’s voice was even. Calm. But there was no time for calm.
“No! Not for sikaru. Because my abum is probably there, drinking his life away. I have to get him. I have to tell him what’s happened and make him go to the Palace.” I turned toward Assata’s Tavern.
“Kammani! Wait! Your abum is in no condition to go anywhere if he’s been at Assata’s.” Dagan gently tugged at my hand. “And besides, he can’t walk into the Palace and start making requests to save his daughter after everything that happened with the malku.” He shrugged apologetically.