For a long moment after Maela spoke Huchon's name, the only sound in the Chapel of Enduring Flame was the soft hiss of the lamps.
Her hands were still clenched into fists in her lap, her knuckles white.
She wanted to shout and scream. Part of her wanted to tear the cloth off the altar and hurl the lamp at the wall. She wanted to; she needed to lash out at the source of more than twenty years of pain.
Grand Priest Livius had done this to her. He'd taken from her so many times. And now he was dead, and there was nothing she could do to a man who was already dead. This wasn't his chapel; it wasn't his grand temple in Trevarthen… destroying things here wouldn't hurt him at all, but still...
