The thought in her mind was so soft, so fleeting, she wondered if it were her imagination. The thought brought a measure of comfort, but it was so small compared to the vastness of her grief. She stroked the blanket tenderly and walked around to the head of the canoe. Bending down, she pressed a gentle kiss where his forehead was.

“Go in peace,” Trynne whispered, her voice choking on the words. She stood back and nodded to the pallbearers. It was the hardest thing she had ever done.

The pallbearers climbed down the wooden steps leading to the edge of the platform and gently set the canoe onto the water of the pool. With its feathery tendrils of water, its verdant smell, and its lush greenery, Mortain Falls cast an idyllic scene. This was a gentle place, much more appropriate for her gentle brother than the violent rushing of a massive waterfall.

Thierry approached her as she watched the current drag the canoe away. He had doted on Gannon more than her. But the look of anguish in his eyes was tempered by pity.

He stood next to her, hands clasped behind his back, his gray hair combed forward in the Occitanian fashion. “I stood nearby when Lady Sinia watched her father put her mother to rest in the Fountain.” His composure started to waver. “And I was there when Lady Sinia did the same for him, the grandfather you never knew. This peaceful grove has seen its share of sorrows, child. It is fitting and proper that we should weep for the loss of those who die. It hurts because we loved them so much.” He sniffed, trying to maintain his composure. “I loved that little boy. It was not your fault, Lady Trynne. I will do everything in my power to continue to serve the Montfort line. You are the last of that line. You are the only thing standing between Brythonica and annihilation. Take care of yourself. We look to you as our savior.”

Trynne already felt the awful weight of that burden. She turned her head slightly. “I will do my best to deserve that trust.”

Thierry nodded, rocking backward on his heels. “Lady Sinia told me of her vision. That you will soon marry.”

She turned to him, startled. “Soon?” she asked with an edge of panic in her voice.

Thierry nodded. “Praise the Fountain,” he said, then kissed the edge of his forefinger. “Would you like to be alone for a while?”

“Yes, Thierry. Send the others back to the castle.”