BRIDE OF JERU

~∆~ Naamah's POV ~∆~ I was born for the temple. Before I knew my father's voice, I knew the priests singing in the courts of the One Who Sees. Before I touched silk, my fingers could trace the cold stones of His altar. But I am a woman. In Jeru, that means I cannot serve Him the way I want. The law says only men can burn incense. Only men can wear white robes and lift their hands in the Holy Place. So I stood at the gates, barefoot and waiting. I listened as others prayed the prayers I wanted to pray. Play the psaltery for him while I continue to learn books on etiquette and how to be a proper wife. People called me beautiful. I knew what they meant. I understood them because I could see myself. The sun seemed to love my skin. My hair was dark like my mother's, falling like the black water of the Nile that I have seen in scrolls. However, beauty in Jeru is dangerous. It makes men notice you. Some want to marry you to own you and parade you. Others want worse things. My father, King Haruz, often said I was too proud. That I prayed too much. That I spoke too much about laws I had no right to teach. When I was small, I thought he was teasing. But after my mother died, and my father filled the palace with new wives and their sons, I learned the truth. Because I am a woman, I must not speak or serve him as I wanted to. I was always trouble to him. I wanted to be a reminder that some people still feared the One Who Sees. My brother Elior once told me I had more courage than any soldier in Jeru. I laughed then. But tonight, waiting for him to come home from war, those words feel heavy in my chest. I kneel at my window, head pressed against the cool stone. "Bring him home," I whisper. My voice is rough from days without food. "Please, Holy One. Don't let my brother die in Babel." But I feel it in my bones. I knew the truth albeit I still begged. Begged like my life depended on it. " Holy One, please bring back my brother safe and sound." Footsteps break the silence of my meditation. Servants rushed in. They were quiet, careful, eyes down. Then slow, confident strides. It was the steps of my father. My heart drops completely as my shoulders sag in surrender. My father only comes to my room when he wants to take something from me. And I knew what had been taken away from me. He stands in my doorway wearing red and gold robes. His gray beard is neat. His ring catches the lamplight. He won't look at me as I bowed my head down, unable to stand from my prayer mat. "Stand up," he says. I obey. My body finally does something. I smooth my simple dress as I rise. He doesn't ask about my fasting. He doesn't ask about my prayers. "Your brother is dead." Just those ruthless words. Ruthless and no remorse or empathy. None. My Elior has been taken from me. My mouth opens but no sound comes. I search his face for some sign that this is a joke. Some cruelty I can name. Some hint that this is a test of my faith. But there is nothing. "Dead?" My voice sounds strangled. That's how I felt, like I was being hanged, dying slowly with no one to help. He nods once. Already impatient. "Killed at Babel's gates. The boy was brave but stupid." The boy. Not your son. Not your heir. Stupid and brave. He sent him there. He did that. I press my hand to my stomach to keep steady. I force air into my lungs. My prayers, fasting, and nights crying out to the One Who Sees...did He not hear any of it? My father sighs like my grief bothers him. "You will mourn for seven days. After that, you will be ready to travel." I blink. I don't understand. "Travel where?" "To Babel." The name burns my mouth. "Babel?" "King Ashur has offered me gold. More gold than you can imagine. Jewels that will fill our treasure rooms. In return, he wants you." My knees almost gave out. "You would sell me?" After killing my brother? He will sell me. "You will bring honor to our family," he says. Like that explains everything. "No," I breathe. "I belong to the One Who Sees. I am not for..." Sale. I complete it in my mind. His hand, however, strikes my face before I can finish. The pain shocks me quiet. It wasn't the first he is hitting me but Elior had always protected me. "You belong to me," he hisses. His voice is low and dangerous. "And soon, you will belong to Babel." I taste blood but don't wipe it away. I won't let him see me afraid. He stays in the doorway, looking at me like I am nothing but coins. Like I am the gold Ashur will pay for me. "You should be grateful," he says finally. "Babel could take you by force if they wanted. At least this way, you live." Then he leaves me alone in the room where I first learned to pray. I fall to the ground but I do not cry. I just kneel. I press my face to the floor. I whisper the only prayer I can say through my shaking lips. "See me. Please, Holy One... see me." But only silence comes back to me. I stay on the floor until my knees are numb. The lamplight sways. Shadows dance on the walls like spirits of the dead. Maybe my brother's spirit is among them. Maybe my mother's. I lift my head and look toward the Holy Place, though I cannot see it from my window. "I am yours," I whisper. "Whatever happens in Babel, I am still yours."