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Someone had arranged him with his arms wrapped over his chest. His eyes closed, his face serene, his body limp and ready to return to the earth. It didn’t even look like Lyam.
Though maybe a touch more than when she had snuck into the depths of the mountain to where they kept him in a cold place to prevent rot. The very thought shuddered through her as her teeth chattered, the deeper she crept. She was glad that she hadn’t asked Darby or Hadrian to come with her. They’d never have made it this far. She hoped to find a clue, to find anything to tell her why this had happened.
But when she got there, she looked down at the body—his skin waxy, his lips blue, the puncture wound deep—and she realized her folly. There was nothing here. Nothing but a wave of grief. She’d fallen to the floor and cried for hours. Lyam was gone. He was really gone.
Darby squeezed her hand, bringing her back to reality. Kerrigan blinked back the weight of that grief. She had heard nothing that the man said, who was there to bring solace to the grieving.
“Would anyone like to say anything?” the man finally asked, addressing the crowd.
Hadrian and Darby looked at Kerrigan. They had apparently agreed that she would be the one to do this, to find a place within her to speak words about the person she had lost. But what could she even say? She hadn’t prepared for this. But she couldn’t send him to rest without at least someone speaking for him.
So, she stepped forward and cleared her parched throat.
“Lyam was not like you and me,” she began softly. Her throat was already closing at the words. But she knew what he would have wanted to say. “Lyam came from very little. His parents were fishermen along the western coast. They had a wonderful life there on the sea. Lyam always kept his father’s compass with him at all times. He said… he said that it showed him the way back to the water. But due to fishing regulations, his family was forced to give up their life and come to Kinkadia, the city of light. They found no light here.”
The crowd surrounding Lyam’s funeral pyre shifted uncomfortably at her words. They were not the words anyone had been expecting. But she knew Lyam’s truth. The tribe system had failed him, as it had failed all the Dragon Blessed. And she was not just going to sit back and let them burn him without knowing what had happened.
“His parents never found work here. No one would hire unskilled labor. All they’d ever known was the sea, and the sea had been stolen from them. Lyam was dropped off into the care of the House of Dragons, given an opportunity to rise in the ranks. An opportunity his parents had not been afforded. And now, at only seventeen, he was murdered in cold blood,” she said, her voice getting angrier. “An injustice so great that I barely have words for it. We have work to do. We need to make this right. For Lyam and for all the families out there, struggling and living in fear. That’s what Lyam would want. That’s what I want to give him.”
Kerrigan met Clover’s eyes across the circle near the back, and she was smiling. She nodded once at her. Then, Kerrigan stepped back and took Darby’s hand. Neither of her friends said a word. In fact, no one else said anything.
Then, a dragon blew hot fire onto the pyre, and Lyam went up in flames.
Dragon flames were supposed to be the ultimate honor. A sign of great respect for the deceased. Lyam would have wanted dragon fire. He’d loved riding almost as much as she did. But it was too little, too late.
They stood together for a long time as the flames licked at the wood, burning it low. Darby huddled between Kerrigan and Hadrian. Clover came around the pyre and rested her head on Hadrian’s shoulder. His arm slung around her to bring her in close to the group. Everyone else left in waves until just the four of them remained.
None of them had to say that they wanted to stay through the night. That they wanted to hold vigil for the loss of their friend. They just clustered together and watched the flames burn and burn and burn.
It was hours before Darby finally sank down into the dirt, heedless of the layers of her midnight dress.
“Darbs?” Kerrigan asked gently.
“I can’t do it anymore,” she said, brushing furiously at her wet cheeks. “I can’t keep crying. I’ve cried buckets the last four days. And I’m going to cry more buckets, but I just don’t want to be sad right now.”
Hadrian sank down next to her. “I know what you mean. Lyam was always so… happy.”
