Kiva woke and jerked upright. Sasha lay curled at her feet.
Events of the previous day rushed back.
Seth at school.
The earthquake.
Seth dead.
And she was to accompany him.
As a sacrifice.
But she had to act normal, not let on that she knew. There was plenty of time to come up with an escape plan.
Kiva slipped out of bed and padded into the main room.
Sabra sat at the table, sipping tea. Her eyes were red. “Good morning.”
Kiva sat down across from her, hands clasped together on the table. “You’re not at the palace.”
“No work today.”
“Because of the earthquake yesterday?”
“No. Sweetheart…” Sabra set a hand on Kiva’s. “The earthquake was the day the prince died.”
Kiva frowned. “Which was yesterday.”
“It was over two months ago.”
“That’s impossible.” Kiva stared at the vase of narcissus flowers that she had picked the morning before. But they were wilted to ugliness. She touched one and it turned to dust. Wasn’t it?
Sabra shifted in her chair. “Kiva, you’re confused. Maybe you’re upset because today is Seth’s funeral.”
Kiva yanked her hand back. “What?”
“Losing Seth was traumatic. But you’ve been dealing with it all so … admirably.” Sabra smiled a little. “I’m so proud.”
Kiva’s mind raced.
Was her mother delusional?
There was no way so much time could have passed.
Out of habit, her fingers went to her wrist. Failing to find the bracelet, she rubbed the rough edge of her broken nail.
She froze as she gaped at her index finger.
The nail was still as short as when she broke it in Fai’s lab the day of the earthquake.
Yesterday.
Her mother was lying.
“Kiva, I know this has been a terrible time for you. And I hope all the rest has helped you deal with Seth’s death.”
“Rest?”
“Fai insisted the sleeping medicine would help—”
“Sleeping medicine?”
Her mother nodded. “You were so upset, it was the only thing that got you to sleep. I know you’ve slept far too much these past weeks, but—”
Kiva needed to get away from the lies. “I have things to do before the funeral.”
“I thought we could spend time together, talk about—”
“Talk about what?” snapped Kiva. “I heard you and Fai.” She held a hand flat on her chest. “Maybe we should talk about me being dead in a few hours!”
“But you won’t be—” Sabra stopped.
“Are you saying I’m not going to be the sacrifice?”
“True, it is you; you’ve known for weeks.”
“No I haven’t. You’re lying.” Kiva rubbed the edge of her fingernail to remind herself that she wasn’t imagining things. The flowers were dead, but there was no explaining that broken nail.
Her mother swallowed. “I want to make more memories today, while we have a chance.”
“Haven’t we had over two months to do that?”
Sabra’s eyes widened. “Yes.” She stared at the table. “You’re right.”
“I’ll be in my room.” There, Kiva quickly dressed and put on sandals. She didn’t know what was going on, but she did know that her mother couldn’t be trusted.
She went over to the window. There was no way she was going to let them take her.
When she was younger, she often snuck out to meet Seth after bedtime. They often did nothing but sit beside each other on the moonlit riverbank, throw sticks into the water, and watch them spin in the current.
A lump grew in her throat and tears welled up.
Her grief for him was so fresh.
“There’s no way I could have been feeling this way for over two months.” Kiva hoisted herself up onto the sill and dropped to the dirt outside. She jogged along the path with no extra clothes or supplies, no clear plan as to a destination.
What she needed most was to find someone who would tell her the truth.
Ada’s house was nearby.
Her friend sat under a date palm, crying into her hands.
“Ada? Why are you crying?”
Ada looked up, her eyes swollen, face blotchy. “Why aren’t you?”
Kiva plopped down on the ground beside her. “Will you tell me what’s going on?”
“What are you talking about?’ Ada wiped her eyes on her hand. “Today is Seth’s funeral.”
“I know. But … doesn’t it feel too soon?”
“It’s been over two months.”
Kiva sighed.
That again. Why was she the only one who didn’t think so much time had passed? “Right.” Maybe she should test Ava. “But … what have we been doing for the last two months?”
“Doing?” Ada frowned. “We’ve been going to school. You’ve been helping me with Maxwell’s equations.”
“What? You have no idea how to do that.”
“Yesterday you told me I was getting it! I think it was yesterday. Now you’re just confusing me, Kiva.” Ada scowled. “I’m already upset and sad enough.”
“You’re upset?” Kiva was about to lay into her about how being the retainer sacrifice gave her the upper hand on emotion for the day, then wondered why Ada hadn’t mentioned it. She scratched her arm. “So, have you heard anything about a retainer sacrifice?”
“A what?”
“Never mind.” Kiva stood up. “I have to go.”
“See you at the funeral?”
Kiva needed to think.
Ada was as foggy about the supposed passage of time as she was. And why hadn’t she heard of Kiva’s fate?
“Ada, where’s the funeral going to be?”
“Where else would it be?”
“Oh, right.” Kiva prodded. “It’ll be at the…”
“Tomb. What’s wrong with you?” asked Ada. “It’s at the school.”
At the school? Why not the palace?
Kiva hurried down the path and around the row of sun-dried brick buildings. She took three steps onto the school’s courtyard and froze.
Yesterday, at least what she thought was yesterday, there had been an empty hill.
But there, in front of her, lay a series of limestone brick mastabas built up on three graduated platforms, several dozen steep steps leading up to the wide, dim opening.
The tomb. How did that happen in one day?
Kiva trembled.
She didn’t believe any of this.
If the funeral was to take place within hours, where was everyone? Mourners should have been gathering.
Kiva ran to the steps and took them two at a time.
She paused at the mouth of the tomb, wondering why there were no guards. Then she stepped inside a brick hallway, the floor lit by clay pots of oil, burning wicks floating inside. Heart pounding, she moved toward the flickering brightness ahead.
The passageway ended in a rectangular room, a sarcophagus displayed in the center on a raised dais, surrounded by more of the oil lamps.
Kiva slowly ascended the three steps and stared at the sculpture of Osiris. The green skin of the human-faced god of death and resurrection nearly glowed in the low light as gold strands entwined in his braided beard glittered. His unseeing eyes appeared to track her, and she shivered as she moved closer to the casket.
Was Seth really inside?
Then Kiva noticed a low table on which lay a linen-wrapped body. Her legs threatened to give out, but she made her way there.
She didn’t believe her oldest friend was dead until that moment.
“I’m sorry.” Kiva ran a trembling hand down the side of the body, skin crawling at the shriveled hardness. “I’m sorry for making you not want to be my friend anymore.
“Whatever I did wrong”—she lowered her head—“I would take it all back.” Her eyes closed.
Maybe, if she never opened them again, this wouldn’t be true.
Maybe, if she wished with all her heart, this would all turn out to be a bad dream.
Maybe.
She held her breath. Please please please.
She couldn’t bring herself to open her eyes.
If this was Seth’s end, hers wasn’t far off.
What would it be like?
Would they kill her beforehand?
Or simply seal her inside and let her starve or die of thirst or lack of air?
“This is pointless.”
Her eyes popped opened. She whirled around.
No one was there.
“Hello?”
There was no reply.
She turned back to Seth.
“The others will be there soon.” The voice spoke again. “If your plan is to keep this going, get her out now.”
“Who said that?” Again, Kiva saw no one.
She set her hand back on Seth. “I wish that we—”
Before her eyes, that hand began to disintegrate.
Mesmerized, she gaped as infinitesimal pieces danced in the torchlight like dust.
Kiva could no longer move.
Her body seemed to be shedding itself one cell at a time. Fingers, hand, half her arm and up …
Kiva could no longer breathe.
Her body continued to disappear, one insignificant fragment at a time, a floating mosaic of all her parts.
Was this her end?
She was the retainer sacrifice.
Piece by piece, the gods were taking her.
Her eyes no longer focused.
In front of her, Seth’s body wavered, as if under water.
Odd, but she felt more peace than panic. Death was far kinder than she expected.
She felt herself falling, falling, but she landed nowhere.
After one, final breath, Kiva of Alexandria simply ceased to be.