A warm hand touched Fiona’s shoulder. She didn’t have to look to know that it was Galen. She smiled and swallowed, taking another breath.
“I’m all right,” she said.
She lifted her head and looked out at the crowd. Again, she smiled.
“Forgive me,” she said softly. “I lost myself for a moment.”
Throughout the crowd, tear-stained faces looked at her with understanding. They nodded and gave her reassuring smiles.
She looked up at the balcony, but it appeared to her as though Ashleigh was gone.
Fiona cleared her throat and continued where she had left off.
“We burn the relics as a symbol of our undying love for the one we lost… so that he may receive that warmth, while we who remain can hold on to the memory it came from,” she began, moving toward the pyre. “In this way, we hope our loved one will know we are with him until the bitter end.”
She carefully placed the picture within the crossed beams of the pyre.
