Ruein: Fires of Haraden: Action/Adventure Necromancy Series (Books of Ruein Book 2) G.O. Turner (top 20 books to read .TXT) 📖

wouldn’t be obvious. Aequen’s enchanted hat would provide her sister a disguise. She wasn’t likely to come as herself. That would raise too many questions for her…for all of them.

The austere-white tent on their lighthouse peninsula held roughly fifty guests: noble houses, acquaintances, and respected colleagues. Those in-the-know had come to pay respects on the hardened ground. Wooden stools offered little in the way of comfort.

It was good to see Anad and young Xam with a small Commercery staff. They seemed to have managed some benches of their own.

An autumn sea breeze rustled at the tent’s flap, drifting it open. Liv glimpsed the everburning torches that marked her brother’s resting place outside.

She cupped an oaken toy bear within her calloused hands. Her fingers roved over the carved sun symbols along its surface. The handiwork, a match for Liv’s own holy symbol, rested against her lap’s yellow and white vestments. This token, gifted by her father, had been intended to fill a brother’s absence.

Liv was glad to be bookended by loved ones. Her father, Kaea, on one side, twins, Arim and Nayr, on the other. But the vacant seat on the children’s far side… Well, shit. What had she honestly expected? Kaea had resisted even setting it out.

That was a battle he’d no chance of winning.

High Cleric Tirrem was his humble self at the lectern. His remarks were gracious to her brother, Manu, as well to Aequen and Nanagan.

Liv had already said her piece for those in attendance. It hadn’t been easy. Yet, her brother deserved to be shared before everyone. She’d hoped getting through this would diminish the ache that had taken residence inside her chest.

Baylor’s balls. When was that going to happen, already?

She dwelled, turning the bear in her hands. The emptiness within deepened. Seemed only right she should have such a hole. So much had been torn from her. No bandage could ever secure that level of mending.

Moments seemed to stretch as she drifted in those depths. Liv was unsure how long she lingered before noticing the hush which fell over the tent.

She looked up to the High Cleric bowing from the lectern. Liv’s eyes flicked right. Her Lightbringer father kneeled toward her. Looking around, the whole tent came to their feet and bowed in her direction.

Her ache both heightened and sank.

Ah, shit. This isn’t helping.

Liv drew in a breath. Pocketing the bear beneath her vestments, she rose to stand with the group. Everyone righted. Kaea reached for her shoulder and drew her in.

High Cleric Tirrem stepped from the lectern, signaling the others to commence mingling.

A jostle caught Liv as Arim and Nayr brushed past. It lightened her heart to see the toddlers freed of these somber acts. They chased each other into the throng of minglers.

Kaea tightened his hug, then extended her to arm’s length. His damp, flushed cheeks offered a grin. “You did well.”

Liv closed her eyes. The weight of her head tipped forward.

Her father lowered his to catch her eye. “Will you allow this old fool the remaining tasks?”

Liv huffed. “All for you?”

“We Lightbringers have many ways to ‘bring’. Leave me this.” Kaea rounded toward the attendees. His own Lightbringer vestments broadened with his raised arms. Their family’s tropical upbringing and sailor’s life came to the fore. It was that hearty spirit bolstered through faith that heightened their standing within their adopted hometown.

He’d be her shield for as long as she required.

Acknowledging their respects, Liv wended her way to a quiet corner to merely be apart and watch. Let them share what they knew about her brother. She would miss all the things they could never know. Their childhood of play amidst the wharves. How Liv would fend off dock girls. Heh, so many. Those memories were hers, and hers alone.

Kaea worked the crowd, bolstering hearts, relieving their sadness, and shouldering the needs of the brokenhearted. This was his way of dealing with the pain, the loss of his son. Liv was sure that was not going to be her way.

She needed something. Some…distraction.

Manu’s friends were here. They were also aware of his necromantic wife. Did they inquire about her? Was she so taboo a topic that no one felt they could ask?

Liv swept the crowd again.

High Cleric Tirrem’s eyes locked upon Liv’s. Damn. He was a good man. It was just—her solitude wasn’t something he would ignore. The High Cleric closed the distance and paused before her.

Liv drew a breath and found a smile for the cleric. “It was beautiful…your words.”

“Ah. I was hoping some had reached you,” Tirrem said. “Seems all a bit scant, having only words to offer.”

“We’ve all already given too much.”

“If it’s any consolation, Talis has been returned to the vault.” He rubbed at the back of his neck. “Craftsmen will still need to restore its proper seat. That said, the city’s religious orders honor your surrendering of the Oathkeeper.”

Liv winced. “It was never mine.”

“You certainly were found worthy. It was no mistake that the light worked the Oathkeeper’s way to your hands.”

“No.” The thought bit at Liv. “That was no light. That was orchestrated.” She turned from the High Cleric, searching the crowd.

“Humph. I could see how you might think that. Yet, can you be so sure those were the only guiding hands?” Tirrem leaned in. “As well, dismissing the light which fell upon your sister?”

Past mingling guests, their eyes met. The only scroungy person in attendance, a familiar ditchdigger, stood out from the nobles and clergy. From a plain masculine face, familiar vacant blue eyes stared back at Liv’s.

What’d Tirrem say?

“I…uh, sorry. I didn’t…” Liv’s brow furrowed. She couldn’t quite grasp—her sister was here. “Forgive me, Servitor. I just…”

She moved past the High Cleric and waded into the crowd.

He meant well. Tirrem was trying to reach out to her. He simply wasn’t what Liv needed at that moment.

She willed herself through the mix. Liv was courteous enough to acknowledge those around her, well-wishers and the survivors of loss. Yet, she did not slow her pace until she broke