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would end with him. He didn’t know what had
happened to either of you. If you were alive,
or dead. Didn’t even know where to look. So
he agreed to do his duty, agreed to help his
dying people.” Her great-grandmother smiled
sadly. “All who met Tristan loved him.”
Tristan. That had been his name. Had her
grandmother even known it before she’d
killed him? “A young witch was chosen for
him especially. But he did not love her—not
with your mother as his true mate, the song of
his soul. Tristan made it work nonetheless.
Rhiannon was the result of that.”
Manon tensed. If Rhiannon’s mother were
here—
Again, the crone read the question on
Manon’s face.
“She was slaughtered by a Yellowlegs
sentinel in the river plains of Melisande.
Years ago.”