In Which Adonis Prefers to Think

February 15, 1185

"Well, Honora," Adonis sighed, a weary eye toward the empty chair that had been just that since Honora had died, "don't take this the wrong way, but the next time someone goes up there to keep you company, it had better be me."

It ought to have been him anyway, if anyone had to go--not his twenty-nine-year-old daughter-in-law. And not his twenty-four-year-old daughter. Come summer, Adonis would be fifty-seven. That was less time than some got, but it was long enough that, should Death come knocking tomorrow, he'd be able to say that his time had been sufficient. Asalaye and Lyraina had not been given that luxury. As a father, it was a fight not to scream at the heavens, cursing the Lord for the injustice of it all.

But that hadn't done much good when Honora had gone, and the non-stop grieving had left him precious little energy to spare. What he didn't exhaust himself, he supposed he would save for Had, and for his children and for Asalaye's. They weren't the only ones who would miss his girls, but Had had lost his sister and his wife in the span of a month, and those two sets of children were now short a mother apiece. Those two little babies would never even know the women who birthed them.

Just like Sev. And just like Rahileine.

"Maybe it's selfish of me, Honora--thinking of myself right now. It's Asalaye and Lyraina who are dead." He'd heard it said before that death was for the living, that it was only the process of dying that merited sympathy for the subject, not death itself. But that painted death as a cessation. The living couldn't claim to know much about death, but he preferred to think that something came after. "I know you and Avine will take good care of them both. And I'll try to keep things going as best they can down here."

The funeral would commence in about an hour. Sev would be riding in from the university. Alina and Lea were at Had's, taking care of him and the children; Congren had taken Thetis and Rahileine to join them while Adonis fed the animals, only about twenty minutes prior. He would be best served leaving himself soon.

"I know you'll be watching, Honora. Next time the bell tolls for one of ours, ask the Lord if we might at least watch together."

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