She stood, stoic, in the cart as they wheeled her into town. No rotting vegetables reached her, just awestruck stares, shouted questions. “Why? How?” But still, she stood silent and proud. The platform loomed ahead, and for a brief moment, her eyes widened, her nostrils flared.

She stood before the temple senate, silent and proud, as the priestesses questioned her. She had committed no crime, she maintained, had done nothing wrong. She shook her head, stiff, but unafraid. She had remained so sure and strong, she had the perfect defense.

She had done nothing with any man, she was a vestal virgin. She took this title seriously, and had kept her vow. Most of the priestesses nodded, agreed, she had shown no such behavior in the past. She’d never been caught outside, always been obedient and serious.

She allowed herself a small smile, sure of the verdict. Then they had brought in the child. The child, squirming in the other virgin’s arms. They had found him.

She was secured to the pyre. He’d given her away.