Near the refreshment table where they'd been instructed to stand and observe, Cossot's brow wrinkled in thought before she leaned close enough to her shorter friend to whisper in Roseen's ear.
"Do you understand any of this?" she asked softly. "Snowflakes and brittle magic?"
"Not really," Roseen admitted quietly. "But I think Lady Heila is saying that Lord Loman's prayers weren't very good. She said they were only as strong as frost on the window, and we could scrub that away with a kitchen rag."
"That can't be right though," Cossot murmured, frowning as she tried to follow the conversation. "The Church's miracles come from the Holy Lord of Light himself. Nothing in the world should be more perfect."
"But it sounds like things did go wrong," Roseen said with a complicated expression on her face as she looked at the tattered figure of the man her closest friend once idolized. "After all, people died…"
