Pyre of Basil and Citrus: Fantasy

Basil and citrus wafted up in the smoke from the fire. She stared at it, long and hard. She had chosen which aromatics would be burnt at her father's pyre, and she had chosen the appropriate ones: seas-salt for his trade, cedar for his maturity and paternity, and a hint of honeysuckle for the love that he bore towards his family. She had not chosen the scents of basil and citrus, with their ambiguous message. She looked around her, hoping to see that nobody else had noticed. It was, of course, a vain hope: her sister stared at her with betrayal in her eyes, her brothers were tightening their jaws in anger, and her stepmother had begun to cry. Not me, she mouthed. I didn't do it. They didn't believe her--

Inspiration: gunn
Story Potential: Low.
Notes: I have the sneaking suspicion that this would wind up being another "really about family" story, which is what I want to avoid at all costs. Awesome story title, though.