The Sultan's Daughter by P.E. Gilbert

Author:P.E. Gilbert [Gilbert, P.E.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-05-15T16:00:00+00:00

7

-Too Late To Vacillate-

(Nalini)

“May His Majesty, Sultan Razilan, be judged favourably,” Grand Cleric Faas proclaimed. “May He Be Worthy of Abyar.”

“May He Be Worthy of Abyar,” Nalini and the others responded in unison.

Subsequently, Captain Ghasím, Saíf, Haluk, Peder, Egemen and Jar’eth lifted his body, which was wrapped in a shroud of green, emblazoned with the knot symbol of their House, and lowered the late sultan into the pit.

Thud.

The noise stabbed Nalini’s gut. There was no mistaking that thud. It represented the end; that there was no way back; that most people, including herself, would end up in a coffin, buried six feet under, with the same thud stabbing their loved one’s guts. Nalini just hoped that when her turn came it would not be for many decades and that she would have lived a long life, unlike-

“Nalini,” Emilio whispered. “You must go forward.”

Nalini cursed under her breath. She had been taken by her emotions like a stupid, weak woman. She should have stepped forward already and been among the first to shovel earth on top of the coffin, as Sultan Wumla, their mother, and Dowager Sultana Olella were doing; as was outlined in the Rakimist sect of the Believers of Abyar. An immediate family member was commanded to bury the dead, as it was the starting point for adapting to life without that person. One could not deny that a loved one had died after he or she had physically partaken in the burial.

But Nalini could not admit to being emotionally overcome by the occasion. Not to her husband, and not before the noblemen of the Kingdom. So, she snarled at Emilio, instead. “I know what I have to do,” she hissed. “There isn’t a shovel free, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

“Err… there’s one free now,” he said, pointing. “Do you want to go first or shall I?”

Nalini looked forward. Her mother held out a spade for her, and Nalini grimaced. She tried so hard not to look like a fool; yet, she always did, somehow. “Razilan was family to you, too,” she said, lowly. “Let’s do this together.”

Subsequently, she marched forward. Her mother gave her a spade. Nalini sweated, as much from the heat as from the exertion, as she shoveled up a load of earth. Dust rose, and she coughed as she pushed the earth on top of the coffin. She did it once more and then handed her spade to Lord Anané.

Nalini stood and observed the powerfully built lord chuck the earth into the pit, like it were flour. Lord Anané’s efforts ensured that neither she nor anyone else could see the coffin anymore, and the realisation knifed Nalini’s neck. How was Razilan dead? At twenty-eight, he had been in the prime of his life. Seldom had he ever been unwell until he caught a chill. How was life so perilous?

Nalini’s back spasmed, jolting her out of her thoughts. As she massaged the muscle, she observed her surroundings. It was the first time she had been to

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