The one time I felt connected, would of course be the one time something went wrong. The priests tried to keep it quiet, shuffling everyone to the nearby stands, closing off the area as the burn started to die down, but there was no hiding what those of us close had seen; a body in the fire, tied under the stage. I hoped that the person had already been dead when they had been placed there, that the smoke had killed them before the flame if not. I hoped that they had a peaceful death.
We had to continue on as if nothing was wrong, the priests having moved people along as quickly as they could, retreiving the body with the use of wet blankets, carefully removing it as the royal family watched. The excuse of needing to do private blessings worked well, my father's commands enough to move t
