“I am happy.” Trent’s eyes held a mix of heartache and anticipation that I didn’t understand. “Rachel—”

“I’m happy you’re happy,” I interrupted, a growing feeling of frustration joining our old argument. “The girls have grown up beautifully. I don’t know how they keep it straight, but I guess as long as they’re loved, it makes sense to them.”

Our eyes lifted to the river as the head of the dewar and Dali waited with Ray and Keric. The chairs were empty now as everyone stood around the couple in a protective circle—everyone who cared for them, loved them, wanted to see them happy. My frustration sort of left.

“It makes sense to me, too,” Trent said softly, but I felt a hesitation in him, something he hadn’t yet said. From the river, Al shouted and gnashed his teeth, falling down as if dead amid cheers as he formally gave up his protection of Ray, the huntsman defeated by a token blow from Keric and his mother, their hands joined on a ceremonial sword. It would go to Trent as the symbolic spoils of war.

“You’re happy?” I asked again, and he reached out and set his hand atop mine as I held Red’s reins.

“More than I’ve ever been in my life,” he said, but still I heard a doubt, a lingering niggle of worry.

“Then nothing could make this more perfect,” I prompted. He said nothing, and I shifted Red’s reins to my free hand so I could take his hand more firmly. “Trent ...”

Dropping his head, he whispered, “A new little boy or girl would make this more perfect.”

My breath caught, and I forced myself to not shift my grip, making it neither less tight nor more so. He wanted another child, and I couldn’t give it to him. “You know I’d never stand in your way.”

He pulled my hand to his chest, drawing my eyes to his. “I’m glad to hear you say that.”

He was smiling, bursting almost. My heart seemed to break, and I pulled away. Behind him, clouds of blue butterflies rose up as the couple became one. Sunset. “That’s our cue,” I said, a lump in my throat. He wanted another child, and I couldn’t give it to him. Hell, what did I expect? It was my own fault, really. It wasn’t supposed to matter. I told myself it didn’t matter, but after twenty-seven years, it did.

“Rachel, no!” Trent exclaimed, leaning in a jingle of tack to grab Red’s bridle and bring me to a halt. “Not with another woman, I mean you and me! Us!”

From the crowd, a soft sound rolled out as the butterflies rose, symbols of love and war all wrapped up in one, for as butterflies seek out flowers, they also seek carrion.