Project Servile : Defect [Book #1] ✔ Complete!

➽ Fi f t e e n : Blood Feud

"It matters not what someone is born, but what they grow to be." 
- J.K. Rowling 

White flowed from every corner of the gardens. The large white gazebo was draped in a thin lace, concealing the unmistakable form of Devon. She was laying on a pure white marble pillar with thousands of white flowers of every type spilled over her, around her, and through the lace screen toward the entire Manor.

Everyone was dressed in white as well. The lights bounced off of our clothes, sending it shining everywhere pure and bright. The faces around us had their expressions carved from grief. However the closer I looked there was something that laid beneath. They were peaceful.

A short man stepped to a podium also draped in white and raised his hand in the air. Once all was silent, he took his raised hand and brought it to a fist against his heart. His head bowed. Everyone mimicked his gesture, myself a second too late.

Though he was a smaller man his voice boomed across the entire gardens. "For everything there is a season and a time for every matter under heaven: A time to be born, and a time to die; A time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted; A time to kill, and a time to heal; A time to break down, and a time to build up; A time to weep, and a time to laugh; A time to mourn, and a time to dance; A time to throw away stones, and a time to gather stones together; A time to embrace, And a time to refrain from embracing; A time to seek, and a time to lose; A time to keep, and a time to throw away; A time to tear, and a time to sew; A time to keep silence, and a time to speak; A time to love, and a time to hate, A time for war, and a time for peace."

I felt a strong hand snake it's way between my fingers halfway through the speech. I knew it was Jaxon. The tiny pricks of anticipation that crawled from my palm through my arm, only he could give me. Instead of ripping my hand away and stepping back, I left it there. Comfort enveloped my body.

"Devon Lauranna Juniper departed from us, but did not leave our hearts or our thoughts. Her life will be celebrated. One hundred candles, one hundred memories, will be spoken and as the candle burns the smoke will mingle with the air. The memories we will breathe. They will become a part of us."

Person after person filed to surround the gazebo to speak their memory and light a candle. I knew I should have spoken my part, added a sweet memory of how strong and amazing I knew her to be. Yet the only thing that kept flashing in my mind was her body falling limp to the snow covered ground. Crimson pouring around her as her heart had been obliterated by a silver sword, the light leaving her eyes.

I felt a squeeze from my hand, an attempt to slow my suddenly erratic heartbeat. It worked. I managed to keep my head  in the present. Laughter and tears bubbled around me as the air grew thick with sweet smoke. I made sure to inhale deeply.