“She has a cold faerie heart,” one of the kitchen maids said.

“Perhaps,” the cook replied, “but it is a broken heart, I fear. Let none doubt that the Lady Lara loved our Lord Vartan with all her being.”

Lara returned to the hall to find the bier now surrounded by flowers. She smiled, and with a small incantation, made certain that the flowers would remain bright and fresh until Vartan was brought to his pyre. Gazing down at him she was again astounded at how cold and lifeless the shell that had once housed his spirit was. It had been a great spirit, which was perhaps why having gone, Vartan’s body looked so empty.

“He is not there.” Lara heard Bera’s voice in her ear.

“No, he is not,” she answered. “You should be sleeping.”

“I didn’t take the pill,” Bera said.

“She was supposed to mix it in your wine,” Lara replied with a small smile.

“Where is Adon?”

“Out on the plain with his wife,” Lara said quietly.

Bera’s eyes filled with tears, which she attempted to swallow back.

“It had to be done,” Lara told her.

“I know,” Bera agreed, “but he was my son, too.”

“He killed Vartan,” Lara responded.

“And you killed him,” Bera remarked softly.

“Aye, and I have not a moment’s regret that I did,” Lara answered her mother-in-law. “I just wish I had seen into his black heart before he murdered Vartan. Perhaps none of this would have come to pass, Bera.”

“What will happen now?”

“Liam will be chosen by the elders to be the new lord. He will come into this house, the only one in Camdene fit for a Lord of the Fiacre. You will have his house in which to raise Adon’s son, Cam.”