She told him in snippets on the way down, careful to break off if they passed someone, or saw someone close enough to hear.
Because she really did want the air, and she’d worked out the direction from her terrace, she led the way to the courtyard they could see from their rooms.
“She got dumped.” Marco said it firmly. “I’m telling you, Keegan kicked her to the curb, and she’s pissed. And she figures you’re why.”
“Since I’ve been dumped, I recognize the signs. I’d say the reason was more he recognized naked ambition and that core of mean than anything to do with me.”
“Don’t underestimate the power of Breen.”
“I’m not, I’m really not. But I believe her about them not being monogamous. So I’m saying it’s not about me. It’s about her. I saw them out here earlier, and—”
She broke off because stars popped into Marco’s eyes. Bollocks’s tail wagged as she turned and saw Brian striding across the courtyard.
“To be continued,” she murmured.
She stood back as they walked to each other.
“Breen said you were okay. Everyone said—and I saw—but I needed to see you.”
“I only have a few moments, as I’ve duties at the Leaving. But I needed to see you, and here you are.”
Breen felt her heart just roll over and sigh as they embraced, as they kissed.
Then she patted a hand on her dog. “Come on, Bollocks, let’s go somewhere else, and give them that few minutes.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Of all the memories she’d banked during her time in Talamh, Breen knew, almost from the beginning of the ceremony, the Leaving would be the most heartrending.
She stood, as did so many others, in the whip of wind between the castle and the seawall. Below, waves crashed against the rocks like drumbeats. Overhead, dragons and their riders flew in formation across a sky going moody with twilight.
Others who had fought with the fallen stood at the wall, swords or spears or bows raised.
Across from them stood the families of those lost in the battle in the south. And while a piper played mournfully, one from each family stepped forward and said the name of their fallen.
The rest gathered repeated the name. One by one.
While the raft carrying the dead crested the first wave, the second, and began its journey on the sea, Keegan strode out to stand between the warriors and the families.
He wore black, unrelieved, the sword at his side, the staff in his left hand.
“We send to the gods the brave and the true. Even as we’re lessened by their loss, we are strengthened by their valor. Heroes of Talamh, father, mother, son, daughter, brother, sister, friend, never to be forgot, always to be honored, we give you to the light.”
He turned toward the sea, unsheathing his sword, lifting it up.
When the shine of silver turned to flame, he sent the fire out like an arching arrow. Then lifted his voice, clear and strong, in song.
Other voices joined, all joined, and though the words were in Talamhish, the old tongue, Breen heard the grieving in them, and the faith, the pride. Beside her, Marco reached for her hand, gripped it tight.
His tears fell, as hers did. When Bollocks lifted his head, let loose a long howl, Breen knew he wept, too.
And in the deepening sky with only the dying shimmer of sunlight, the dragons sent out a roar and blew flame.
Drummers joined the piper now, with beats like the waves that rose and rose and rose.
And in those dying shimmers of the light, in the flashing dragon fire, streams lifted from the raft. The one who’d spoken the name of their fallen held an urn, held it high. So one by one, those streams, soaring over the sea, came home.
Keegan extinguished his sword, sheathed it. Turning back, he lifted the staff. “From the earth, on the water, by the fire, through the air. Into the light, into the arms of the gods, go the brave and true.”
The mourners and witnesses echoed the words. At their end, Keegan brought his staff down. He turned to the families, fisted his sword hand over his heart.
“So it is done.”
Some remained, murmuring among themselves as Keegan walked to the families. Others, Breen noted, slipped away. She saw Shana, a green cloak trimmed in gold, with a man in black and silver, deep brown hair a sweep around a narrow, handsome face.
He lifted her hand and kissed it, and she leaned into him to whisper something in his ear that made him smile. Together they wound through the crowd and away.
Breen wondered if the man noticed Shana looked back once, fixed her gaze on Keegan.
“Man, that was beautiful. Tore me up.” Marco knuckled a tear away. “You told me how they did all this, but seeing it … wrecked me.”