Year of the Boar, Eighth Month, Day 11.

I have been unable to write anything these past few days. There is little I could possibly say that would make anything better. I do not think I have stopped crying since the messenger came. We will not go to the Summer House nor will we attend the Talks at Crying Orchid since there will be no Talks to attend. There is pain in my chest that will not abate. I have forced the convoy to stop at an inn because I cannot stay in this litter any longer. I do not know what time we left the House; the Diplomats flew into an absolute frenzy and before I had any time to protest or tell them what I wanted, I had been dragged into Court attire and thrust into a litter and put on the road to Silent Thunder ... for Lord Kenta's funeral. There... I have written it. He is dead. I will never be able to tell him that I am sorry for the things I said or tell him that I did not mean any of them. Or... that I... loved him...
Nanami is with me although only out of some sort of self-imposed moral obligation; she would rather be anywhere else in the Kingdom and goes about her chores in icy silence, barely even looking at me. The only reason she did not resign was the appearance of the messenger.