Lear is there, on the edge of the crowd, watching with great fascination how the Lady of the castle is laid to rest. Well, more accurately, she’s going to be burned on a ritual pyre. The wood was set up high with stairs in front. The red cloth they used to prepare her last resting place must have cost a fortune, but nobody will spare it even a glance. All eyes are turned to Lord Cellan. He is dressed in white, the tears still visible in his bright blue eyes and he is carrying Anery in his arms. She is dressed in bright red and it looks to him more like a wedding gown, with that long train dragging behind them. She looks like she’s asleep, her eyes closed and her head resting on his shoulder.
The torches they have lit over the garden make the ritual look romantic, but he knows it’s mandat
