“I didn’t know there were men who were witches,” Lyrra whispered to Rhyann, who had come over to stand beside them.

Rhyann smiled. “They are the Sons of the House of Gaian. They have the same power that comes from the branches of the Great Mother that the Daughters do. Why wouldn’t they wear the symbol that acknowledges the bond to the Mother?”

“You don’t usually wear it openly,” Aiden said.

Rhyann looked puzzled. “Why would we? We don’t wear it to remind anyone but ourselves of who and what we are and what we honor. Earth, air, water, fire”—she looked at Nuala—“and spirit.”

Seeing two Fae with instruments at the edge of the crowd, Aiden excused himself and made his way over to the minstrels. One carried a small harp; the other had a pipe.

“We’ve never seen a burial for one of the Mother’s Daughters,” one of the minstrels said. “What should we do?”

Aiden smiled dryly. “We’ll play it by ear.”

The quiet conversations around him faded.

Selena, all in white, wore the split gown over trousers. She moved away from the others until she stood alone, facing Nuala, and turned to look at Gwynith. “Will you dance with me this time?”

“I don’t know the steps,” Gwynith said.

Selena smiled. “Just follow me—and follow your heart.”

“Is this dance only for the Ladies of the Moon?” Ashk asked.

Selena shook her head. “Anyone who wishes to honor the one who has left us can join this spiral dance.” She turned away from the people watching, her arms extended, her palms up.

Power flowed, as soft as moonlight. Balls of white light filled Selena’s palms. Tendrils of light twined down her arms and over the rest of her body until she glowed with the light of the moon.

Then she began to dance. Solemn and simple, just a few steps and a turn, over and over again. But as she moved, moonlight followed her, forming a path.

Rhyann stepped onto the beginning of the path, her steps matching her sister’s.

He could feel the song of those steps, those solemn turns. “Follow me when you have the tune,” he told the minstrels quietly. Raising his pipe to his lips, he let his music follow moonlight down the spiral path Selena created as she danced. A simple tune, repeated like the steps. When he glanced at the minstrels, they nodded, and harp and pipe joined him, taking up the melody while he let his own pipe’s notes twine around it.