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I had no desire to let go of my mother in this way. Not when she was the reason I was so devout in my beliefs and held the basilica and other temples to be such places of safety.

I ignored Simeon’s subtle censure and eased into one of the chairs scattered around the pavilion, tilting my head back to soak in the warmth of the early sun. Vincent joined me a minute later, as did Phillip. Neither tried to pull me into a conversation, both comfortable in the knowledge I appreciated a bit of quietude after the invocation.

It didn’t last for long, though. A woman from one of the main artisan guilds approached after fifteen minutes, a bag held carefully in her hands. She wore a green dress that pooled a bit on the ground, the side and under bust panels cut away to reveal her marriage mark at the base of her sternum. Her hair was pulled back and decorated with more flowers than many of the others in the square. This year, she had a black ribbon woven through it, and my heart panged in sympathy. She curtsied at the threshold of the pavilion. When I waved her toward me, a smile firmly in place, she stepped onto the red stone and tucked her hands behind her back.

“Happy equinox, Your Highness,” she said in greeting.

This time my smile was less practiced. “Happy equinox, Kalise.”

She held out the bag. “From the artisan guilds,” she said in explanation.

“Thank you. You truly didn’t need to do that.” I took the bag in a gentle hold and then set it under the chair, tucked away from any wandering feet.

She smiled now, too. “It’s always our honor to have you join us for the celebrations, Your Highness. We hope it will serve you and your new bride well.”

Amaria looked over her shoulder, an eyebrow rising as she saw who spoke with me. When I dipped my chin, she turned to Shelby and Amethyst. Not a minute later, the three of them were walking toward the pavilion, several wares in their arms.

“Would you like to meet her?”

Kalise blushed but didn’t turn down the offer. As we waited for Amethyst to cross the square, Vincent leaned forward.

“I’m sorry for your loss, Kalise,” he murmured.

Her eyes filled with tears that she was quick to blink away. “Thank you.”

“Are you going to the Gardens?”

Kalise nodded even as she traced the edge of one of the cutouts of her dress. “I’ve never made the walk without John. I had hoped to make the walk with Jordana, but she went before sunrise this morning.”

“I’d be happy to walk with you,” Vincent said at once.

She frowned. “You don’t need to inconvenience yourself on my account.”

Vincent shook his head. “No inconvenience. I have yet to make the walk today. I would welcome the company.”

Her frown didn’t soften even as she acquiesced. It did fall away as Shelby and Amaria helped Amethyst into the pavilion, though. In its place was a small smile, not quite as warm as the one offered to me, though I could tell it was nerves and the lingering grief of her loss that kept her from being the bright sunshine she often was. Phillip stood and situated himself behind me, joining Heath, and Amaria eased Amethyst into the open chair.

Kalise curtsied once Amethyst’s attention turned to her.

“Happy equinox, my lady.”

Amethyst’s voice was a bit hoarse as she offered, “Happy equinox to you as well.”

Shelby pulled a bench beside Amethyst. As she and Amaria situated themselves, I said, “Kalise, this is Amethyst. Amethyst, this is Kalise. She is the Guild Master of the Seamstress Guild here in Starguard.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Amethyst murmured.

“And you.” Kalise tucked a bit of hair behind her ear and then glanced to Vincent. “When were you hoping to take the walk?”

“Whenever you would like. We can go there now, if you’re ready.”

She nodded, and Vincent stood at once. Heath handed him a small hip bag that he fastened over his hips with a practiced ease. Kalise curtsied again before following Vincent out of the pavilion and across the square.

“What walk?” Amethyst asked after a few minutes.

“To and through the Memoriam Gardens,” Phillip offered.

Shelby continued, “During the four main holidays—both equinoxes as well as the solstices—those who have lost a member of their immediate family walk the Memoriam Gardens. The time is spent thinking of the person that is gone while in prayer to Oltia and Rytar. Some bring flowers to sprinkle on the pathway that weaves through the garden, those beloved by the one that has passed or those thought to please Oltia and Rytar.”