Page 106 of Keeping Sarah

“Mm, hmm,” I said in a flat tone. “The reality is, Sarah, no one knows whether Illiamor was actually a princess or if she was a servant girl who was conscripted into the soup pot to save that king and his family. Now, Illiapol is almost always an unclassed woman who—"

“Theystilleat someone?” She looked quite sick as she bleated out the question.

“The royal family and the court do, yes,” Deacon said. “It is rumored that other classed families have their own private celebration and follow a…traditionalmenu for their celebrations.”

Sarah swallowed hard and sat down on the edge of the bed. “Oh my god.”

“But that’s not all,” I cut in, pinning my gaze on Deacon. “Tell her what the woman has to endurebeforethey get to eat her.”

Her entire body quivered in revulsion. “There’s more?”

Deacon reluctantly explained. “First, she must run the trial of Illiamor, which is a sixty-five kilometer trek up a perilous mountainside, said to be where Illiamor initially tried to hunt for food.”

“And?” I said, deliberately pushing Deacon to reveal everything so Sarah understood the whole detestable process.

“Andshe is hunted by our ruler and six court members, to imitate the seven beasts who Illiamor fought off during her hunt,” Deacon said, while Sarah continued to stare at him in horror. “If the woman survives and crosses the finish line before they can catch and kill her, then she is no longer eligible as the celebratory dinner. In fact, she becomes one of the people’s favored classed ladies. She is given a great sum of money, enough to live out her days in whatever way she chooses, wherever she chooses.”

“Which is how Silence Bateen won the people’s affections,” I added.

“What?!” she shouted, even more upset now.

“It is true,” Deacon said quietly. “Silence had always been adored by the people for her generous spirit and kindness, but running the trial won her their undying love. Silence had hoped that by volunteering for Illiapol, she would show her father how grotesque it was, and he would declare Illiapol to be over.”

“Did Justice hunt his own daughter?” she whispered, her voice choked with disgust.

“No, he declined to participate in the hunt that year, though he held Silence to her volunteerism. Justice said if she wanted to spit in the face of our traditions, then she would have to make good on it.” Deacon smiled proudly and said, “She won the trial in record time, and afterwards, the unclassed would have done anything for her.”

Sarah seemed to put all the pieces of the story together in her mind. “Because since Silence volunteered, it meant no unclassed person lost a woman in their family that year, right?”

“Exactly. Which was why the unclassed almost rioted when Justice sent her to prison for her affair with my father, Valor.”

Sarah glanced from Deacon, to me, and back again, looking appalled. “Have either of you ever…celebrated… traditionally?”

“No,” we barked together.

I clarified, “I was never high-ranking enough to earn such a disgusting honor, and Deacon’s family has a strict policy against Illiapol.”

Sarah breathed a sigh of relief.

“Illiapol is seen as a wonderful thing among many of the classed women,” Deacon said. “Without the myth of it, they would never have the chance to rise to power. However, my mother’s family always believed it was wrong no matter the alleged reasoning, so it was never celebrated in my parents’ household. If I had to guess, a quarter of classed people do not participate in Illiapol traditions.”

“And the unclassed hate it for obvious reasons,” I added meaningfully. “But there are also those who see it as the only chance for an unclassed woman to rise through the ranks and make something of herself. There is no other form of merit an unclassed woman can use to make herself classed.”

Sarah rubbed her fingers across her forehead as she took it all in. “What about the unclassed men and others?”

“Military service, if they can rank high enough,” Deacon said.

She shook her head. “That is crazy to me.”

I nodded. “Same.”

After a long, quiet moment, Sarah asked, “Is being classed really all that important?”

“Not to me,” Deacon immediately said. “Not on any fundamental level.”

I tipped my head doubtfully at Deacon. I couldn’t help myself. “Really?” I drawled sardonically.

He lifted his chin. “What I mean to say is, being classed does not change who a person is. I respect people equally.”

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