Her mistake was falling in love.
And as her father had promised, it was him who threw her to the pit of flames when she admitted her faults.
"How could you?"
Leila did not answer.
How could she, when all she felt was shame. Shame slapped to her by her reality; shame given to her by her own actions, her own mind- herself.
And when the wives threw her in front of the crowd, locking her feet to the ground, tying her hand together, and bruising her palms with a sharp crystal's edge until it bled, so that she could do no magic to help her escape- all she felt was regret.
Leila wished for them to already kill her.
All was enough.
But as the Lady Stourton told her as she pulled her hair back, "Whores do not deserve to end their life so easily. Suffer, witch. See how far your sin has taken you."
"Father, I'm sorry."
All she could do was cry.
