The funeral was a large turnout; but 1,000 of the guests were all the centaurs from Midhir's legion. The immediate family formed a ring around her monument. Etain had been buried beside her daughter, whose tombstone followed those of Rhiannon and every ancestor who predeceased her; and it dawned on Rosaine that there were more graves of Rhiannon's descendants than there were living relatives. That's when she suddenly began to feel something new; the unexpected desire to start a family.
"It is never easy to say goodbye to a loved one. Etain was loved by us all. May she rest eternally in peace at the side of Epona." Midhir had to pause to get his bearings. "We were lucky to know her, however briefly; and call her leader. Friend. Wife. Mother." His eyes passed over his remaining children. "She was patient, and wise. She had a close connection to Epona which…let her know everything important," his words faltered.
Cuchulainn frowned, waiting for his father to find his next words; and suddenly he felt the loss of his sister all over again. She had been good with words, and rituals…She could have gotten them through this rough patch.
"Well, maybe one day she can explain all this to me." Midhir stepped back, shaking his head.
Brighid advanced, laying a hand on the rough surface of Etain's monument. "Farewell, Etain," she said, and with hesitation added, "Thank you."
As she rejoined her lifemate, she felt the warmth of her turquoise stone against her breast.
Cuchulainn watched his father depart quickly into Epona's Temple. The service was not over; where was he going? He lovingly but quickly said his goodbyes and pursued his father, disappearing into the security of the building as a light rain began to fall.
Arianrhod stepped forward and looked at the familiar engraving of her mother's face, and Kaina watched her, overwhelmed with the familiar sensation of her mind fighting for control. She raised her eyes to the crying skies and listened to the inhuman urges sweeping through her soul. She wanted to howl…to gnaw at flesh…to decapitate and destroy. She wanted to smell their fear.
Her vision wavered and blurred, and she vaguely realized the animalistic snarls were coming out of her mouth.
"Goodbye, Mother," Arianrhod was saying. "We miss you."
Kaina lunged forward, grabbing Arianrhod and pushing her to the ground with a feral hiss, kneeling beside her and baring her fangs. Lochlan raced to his daughter and pried them apart. "Kaina, look at me! Think of Epona!"
Her voice was a snarl. "Why? She never thinks of me."
"Think of Her light, and love, and the Prophecy She made for your people."
"There is no Prophecy for me. I'm forgotten. Doomed."
"You are not doomed—"
"Rejected by Epona!" Kaina roared. Her wings shot to their full length, pushing over Etain's monument; and Cuchulainn had to lunge back to avoid being struck. It shattered and horrified gasps swept throughout the crowd. Kaina's yapping snarls hovered on the air.
Lochlan moved closer, slowly. "Kaina, please," he said gently. "Be strong. You can beat this."
Arianrhod was just getting to her feet, and sensing the motion, Kaina whirled and tackled her to the ground, burying her fangs into Arianrhod's neck and drinking deeply. Realizing she was going to kill his sister, Cuchulainn grabbed a sword from the nearest centaur, strode over to the Fomorian and pressed the blade against her throat, using it to pull her off Arianrhod. Two rivers of blood ran from her neck and her eyes were closed, but she was breathing hard.
Cuchulainn looked up at Lochlan. "You get this creature you call a daughter out of here!"
Lochlan knelt, grabbing Kaina, who stood up without resistance; but the madness could still be seen in her eyes. She followed her father from the mourners.
Cuchulainn looked at Arianrhod, who didn't seem to be breathing anymore. He shook her roughly. "Arianrhod?"
Nothing. He looked up at his centaur lifemate. "Get her to the Healer."
"The movement would only make her bleed more."
"Then bring the Healer! Now!"
Brighid kicked into a canter, scattering shards of stone beneath her hooves. Cuchulainn looked up at the stricken mourners. "Somebody get a blanket and pillow!" he commanded, and chaos ensued as everyone within earshot wrestled for the role. Time blurred for Cuchulainn. His sister, dead. His mother, dead. His brother, possibly broken. His sister, possibly dying. Then a blanket was being laid over Arianrhod's body, and his fingers inadvertently began adjusting the fabric. He couldn't look away from her pale face. She had never reminded him of Brenna before now.
The Healer wouldn't come in time, he realized. Arianrhod was going to die at a funeral. He picked up her cold, wet hand and thought of his wife and daughter; trying to keep his soul intact.