The Sand Bride - Chapter 39

“Ah, no…….”

Then, coughing, she spat out the s***n that had filled her mouth. Esther, who had even retched out a few sobs, slumped limply. When Karzhen untied the fabric binding her body, she slid to the floor like a rag doll and remained motionless for a while.

Pale marks stood out vividly on her wrists, thighs, and ankles against her pallid skin. Karzhen gripped one of the marks, rubbing it briefly before clicking his tongue and standing up to straighten his clothes.

During this, Esther lay sprawled on the floor without moving a muscle. Her sandy hair was splayed across her body and the floor alike.

Seeing her horribly abused state, Karzhen’s anger subsided slightly, making him wonder if he had gone too far—but then, imagining her trailing after Greta, begging for her life, his fury flared up again.

Even if Greta, being a woman, hadn’t known any better, Esther might have offered herself to Hakan too if he had promised to spare her. The thought made his blood boil even more.

The image of Esther panting beneath Greta or Hakan rose unbidden in his mind, and before he could even question why it angered him, rage surged through him.

At any rate, since dwelling on it only stoked his temper further, Karzhen snorted and strode out of the room.

However, he did order the hesitant priests approaching him to bring water for Esther to wash herself. He added that if she was still filthy when he returned, it would irritate him—so if she couldn’t wash alone, they should wash her themselves.

The Aldana priests bowed respectfully to all his commands, but they fidgeted uneasily, clearly worried about the incident with Greta.

As he left, Karzhen paused as if remembering something else and said to them:

“And make sure neither Hakan nor Greta can ever summon her again.”

“But by tradition, the other two monarchs also have the right to choose—”

As the Aldana priest hedged, Karzhen bared his teeth in a smile.

“Then tell them to come to me. I’ll remind them how I earned my place as their elder brother and king.”

At that, the Aldana priests hastily bowed again. They knew all too well how royals were acknowledged as royals, so they understood Karzhen’s threat was not to be taken lightly.

That slave will survive after all. One of the Aldana priests, dispersing after seeing Karzhen off, thought this to himself but quickly erased it. They existed to act, not to think.

* * *

Colorful paper and flower petals fluttered from the sky, scattered from the highest tower in the capital. As bells rang, the citizens’ gazes turned as one toward the palace. Their eyes, fixed on the three thrones where the new leaders sat, brimmed with admiration.

The sky was a pale blue, cloudless, making the falling paper and petals even more visible. Soldiers marched in precise formation, swords at their hips, while those at the edges waved flags emblazoned with Gharyam’s proud emblem, guiding the procession.

On a wide carpet to the side, musicians sat playing their instruments. High-ranking nobles in carriages ordered their attendants to generously toss coins to the poor crowding the palace gates. As people clamored and waved their hands, cheerful laughter spread.

Today was a day to celebrate Gharyam’s glorious new rulers. Laughter and joy overflowed everywhere—but Esther did not lift her face from the ground. The Gharyam-born slaves, who knew the coronation’s sequence, sobbed quietly.

They said their deaths would come midway through the ceremony. In despairing tones, they cried that when the musicians changed, that would be the moment of death. Their eyes were hollow, like animals awaiting slaughter.

And then the moment arrived. The musicians seated on the carpet stood as one and exited. Palace attendants pulled away thick fabric covering something, revealing a wooden platform beneath.

It was then that the priests dragged out the men and women imprisoned in a room near the palace gates. Forty-four individuals, led by soldiers’ rough hands, trudged toward the execution site.

The plain-looking wooden platform transformed into a perfect gallows as the attendants worked. The only difference was that thick black silk cords replaced the usual ropes.

Sobbing spread like a plague. Of course, those at the front—the volunteers from noble or merchant families, or those like Bianca who had already secured their selections—looped the silk cords around their necks without hesitation. But the others did not.

A few, thinking they might survive if they escaped into the crowd, tried to flee—but soldiers, as if anticipating rebellion, stabbed them dead. The onlookers jeered at the slaves collapsing in blood.

Finally, the time of death arrived. The slaves, resignation in their eyes, were led onto the platform by the priests. Their lifeless gazes stared ahead in a line. Some fidgeted with futile hope, but Esther was among the former.

Karzhen had not visited her even once since that day he had raged and trampled her mercilessly. At first, Esther had been relieved—but as his absence continued, she trembled in humiliated terror.

Not having to offer herself to Karzhen was a relief, but now, at this time when it meant her death, it became a terror too great to bear.

She had wished he wouldn’t come—but his absence might mean her death. This duality tormented her, as did the self-loathing for trembling in fear because of it.

The crowd cheered. The wooden floor dropped away one section at a time with a creak. Through the gaping holes, legs and feet kicked desperately. Those feet, twisting as if clinging to the last hope of life, soon went limp and still—and then the next floor dropped.

Creak, creak……. To Esther, the sound of the falling planks was like a monster’s laughter. It felt as though Death itself lurked below, reaching up to seize the victims’ legs and drag their souls down.

With each victim’s fall, the crowd roared, and in response, agonized thrashing and cold demise greeted the slaves in turn.

Creak. The monster reached the space right beside Esther. The victim next to her was lucky—their neck snapped instantly, granting them a peaceful death.

But the sound of breaking bone and the limp, swaying body came too close. Esther whimpered and squeezed her eyes shut. She imagined the sensation of the floor vanishing beneath her, of Death seizing her and dragging her down without mercy.

Thinking this was the end, Esther tried to calm her fear by picturing her most cherished memories. She thought of her father, who might still be alive somewhere, and her mother, waiting at home in ignorance for her daughter and husband. Her heart ached unbearably.

How much time had passed? A creak sounded. Esther gasped in terror—but her breath didn’t choke. The floor held firm. The monster didn’t seize her ankles.

Cautiously, she peeked sideways—and met the bulging, bloodshot eyes of the slave beside her. Their purpled face and burst lips were the last things she saw.

Death had passed her by.

Esther closed her eyes again.