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out of all those in attendance.
Myles took Hunt with him and she could hear the little boy proclaim his
approval at the grand funeral as the knight escorted him from the room. At some
point, the Viscount Winterton left her, too, until she was the only person left
in the warm, candle-lit chapel. It was peculiar sensation, empty and wrought
with finality.
    It was the same
cathedral she and Brac had been married in, the same place where Hunt had been
christened. Now it was the place where her husband was buried. Standing there,
gazing down at the sealed crypt, Cantia felt as if her life was over.  She put
her hand against the icy stone sepulcher.
    “I first saw you
when I was eleven years old,” she murmured. “But from the time I was old enough
to understand, I knew that I would be your wife. When I met you, I was not
sorry. You were tall and skinny and you teased me about my missing front teeth,
but deep down, I knew I loved you. I have always loved you. And now that you
are gone, I do not know what shall become of me. I never imagined that I would
be without you.”
    Her hands were
rubbing the stone, the calm she had been able to achieve now suddenly overtaken
with grief again. The tears came and she laid her cheek against the cold stone,
wishing with all of her heart that it was Brac she was laying against.
    “Oh… God,” she
sobbed softly. “Please do not leave me, Brac. Please do not go.”
    Her soft sobs
filled the church, an empty room now as empty as her broken heart.
     
    ***
     
    Tevin stood just
outside the doors of the noble cathedral, waiting for Lady Penden to come out.
Val and John wait with him, though they stood several feet away and huddled in
soft conversation. Since Myles had charge of the Steward and the young boy,
Tevin appointed himself the lady’s escort. The entire Penden family needed
tending this night and it was their duty, as knights and vassals, to see to it.
    In hindsight, it
probably hadn’t been the best idea to leave her alone with her husband in the
cavernous cathedral, so cold and devoid of hope. It wasn’t long before he could
hear weeping. He glanced over at Val, who merely shrugged her shoulders. Val
felt more emotion than she let on at times, and he knew that she was
intuitively sympathetic to Lady Penden. It was difficult not to be.
    “You should not
let her weep overlong,” Val said. “She has had three days of constant grieving.
At some point, she must come to terms with it.”
    “Three days for
a lifetime of marriage hardly seems an outrageous price,” Tevin replied. “We
have all known Brac Penden for many years, though we were not been particularly
close to him. He was a good man. Allow him his due, especially from his wife.”
    “She will make
herself ill,” Val said, more strongly. “You must remove her from the cathedral
without further delay.”
    The weeping was
not easing. He thought it was getting worse. His sister had a point in not
allowing Lady Penden to make herself ill. He didn’t need that on his
conscience, too. In the distance, the funeral party was moving back down the
road to the castle, anticipating the feast that was sure to follow. It would
last all night. With some regret at having to force Lady Penden back to the
event that would, in essence, be a celebration her husband’s death, Tevin
pushed himself off the wall he was leaning against and turned for the cathedral
entrance. He was just as surprised to see Lady Penden already standing there
waiting for him, completely composed.
    “My lady,” he
greeted. “My knights and I have waited to escort you home.”
    “My thanks,” she
said, her tone slightly stuffed from all of the crying. “Where is my son?”
    “De Lohr took
him back to Rochester.”
    She took a deep
breath, looking up into the new night sky. A million stars winked back at her.
    “Such a lovely
night,” she murmured. “’Tis hard to believe the night could be so lovely during
a time like this.”
    Tevin motioned
to his