Free The Sorcerer Heir (Heir Chronicles) by Cinda Williams Chima Page B

because accepting blame was becoming a habit. All through the funeral service, Leesha felt smothered, weighed down by guilt, deafened by the voices of her accusers, even though they were only in her head.
    The services were held in St. Catherine’s Church, though there was not a whiff of Catholicism about anybody in Madison’s family. Leesha had assumed that they might hold the services down in southern Ohio, where Grace was born and raised.
    Maybe this church was appropriate, since it had been the scene of so much triumph and tragedy already. Down in the crypts, Jason had stored the magical objects he’d stolen from Dragon’s Ghyll. Here, in the sanctuary, Madison Moss had absorbed the Dragonheart and become the source of magic for all of the guilds. From the bell tower, she’d confronted the wizards of the Red and White Roses, and demonstrated the consequences of bad behavior.
    In this churchyard, Leesha had betrayed Jason Haley to Warren Barber and lost Jason’s trust forever.
    Madison’s and Grace’s mother, Carlene, and little brother, John Robert, had come up from southern Ohio, escorted by a lawyer, Ray McCartney, who seemed to be a family friend. The other attendees represented a whole range of agendas. Everyone on the Interguild Council came, of course, with the exception of Rowan DeVries, who was still hospitalized in critical condition. Apparently, the trauma surgeons had discovered and sutured a major internal bleed in the nick of time.
    There’d been no word on whether he’d identified his attacker.
    Nearly everyone who’d survived the party, Weir and Anaweir, were there. A few of Madison’s Art Institute friends made the trip, too.
    The Terrible Trio of preschool parents—Scavuzzo, Morrison, and Hudson—occupied an entire pew, wearing mournful and self-righteous expressions. Leesha couldn’t help thinking that Madison should have made the service invitation-only. But then maybe Leesha herself wouldn’t have made Madison’s list. They’d had their ups and downs over the years.
    The media were there, of course, national as well as local. A mass murder on Halloween in a small town—this was a story with legs. They camped out all over the town green, tramping through flower beds in order to get that perfect photograph.
    When had Leesha begun to care about the town flower beds?
    Jack, Ellen, Will, and Fitch were stationed by the doors to keep the media at bay, looking odd and uncomfortable in their somber suits. Leesha guessed that the suit Fitch was wearing was borrowed, since he swam in it. A pair of suspenders was the only thing that stood between him and disaster. He’d also gone back to blond.
    Just before the service started, Leesha saw someone slip into the sanctuary, exchange a few words with Jack, and slide into the back pew. It was Emma Lee, wearing a black sweater, an ill-fitting straight skirt, and sunglasses.
    Surprised, Leesha scanned the mourners again. Just as she’d thought. Nobody else from the Anchorage. Just Emma.
    Carlene Moss sobbed so loudly throughout the service that a few warrior ghosts wandered in to see what was going on. John Robert held tightly to Madison’s hand, looking solemn and sad. He’d inherited his mother’s blond good looks, but maybe that was all. Though he was only seven, he seemed more grown-up than his mother did.
    Leesha knew from experience that when parents don’t parent, kids grow up fast.
    Carlene drew all the attention, but Madison was the one Leesha watched. The Dragon sat still, jaw set, her eyes like blue flames against her pale skin. Like all the power within her blazed out through the windows of her eyes. Her hair was pulled back into a knot at the base of her neck, and she’d set aside her usual riotous color for dead black. An old term came to mind: widow’s weeds.
    Seph watched her, too, dark brows drawn together, sometimes leaning in to murmur something in her ear. Holding on to her hand as if she might fly apart otherwise.
    Now and