She gazed up at the ivy-covered shrine to Our Lady—a stone arch suspended over the waters—and then, making her decision, took the small side trail leading up to it. The falls looked almost like white bridal veils. She ascended the path slowly, climbing the rocky steps. The ferns brushed against her skirts, and she parted some of the taller ones with her hand in order to pass. As she crested the top of the hill, she saw the stream that fed the falls.

Walking around the little shrine, she ran her fingers through the tangled ivy, feeling the waxy petals glide against her fingers. Grief came in waves. It was subsiding, but she knew it would swell again.

As she circled around the back of the shrine, she saw someone standing at the edge of the pool below her. Someone who hadn’t left with the others.

Her breath stopped when she recognized that it was Fallon Llewellyn. He was dressed all in black, looking almost like Severn Argentine. He was staring up at her, his expression full of sympathy. After their eyes met, he began to ascend the steps, taking them two at a time with his long stride.

He was before her in a moment, up near the shrine. His face showed the torture of his emotions. He was suffering deeply, and it moved her.

“How are you even here?” she asked him, shaking her head in confusion. “Morwenna?”

Fallon shook his head no. “I came as soon as I heard. I was in Blackpool, so I took the first available ship.”

“But how did you hear so quickly?” she asked him.

His lips pressed together. “I have a man in Ploemeur,” he said softly.

Trynne bristled with anger. “The Espion are only permitted as messengers,” she said.

He shook his head, and she could see him grow defensive. “He’s not part of the Espion, Trynne,” he said, holding up his hands. “I grew up here, remember? There are people in Ploemeur who still remember me as a boy.” He licked his lips. “He knew that I would want to know about Gannon’s death, so he sent me word.” His voice was thick. “I’m so sorry, Trynne. I can’t imagine how you’re feeling. I just wanted to . . . I wanted to comfort you. I knew you’d be hurting.”

It was exactly what she needed to hear. She rushed to him and buried her face against his chest, wrapping her arms around his waist. He hugged her back fiercely, protectively, holding her and swaying until it felt like she was floating. Another swell of grief started to build, coming at her with all the intensity of a tidal wave.