"Your uncle…?" Lorraine asked quietly, though her heart already knew the answer.
The reason they had chosen a naïve, wet-behind-the-ears scribe was obvious now: he was meant to vanish once the task was done. Men who held knowledge of such deliberate erasures were never allowed to live long enough to speak of them.
Emma's voice trembled, but she met Lorraine's gaze. "He escaped in the middle of the night, the moment he understood their intentions. But they caught up with him." She swallowed hard. "He died back in our hometown… The uncle who taught me to swim was found drowned in a shallow creek."
Lorraine's chest tightened. "My condolences," she murmured, reaching to hold Emma's hand.
"Thank you," Emma whispered. The memory seemed to settle like a stone in the room. She finally understood why Aldric had warned her so fiercely. If she had spoken carelessly, she would have shared her uncle's fate. Perhaps, in his brusque way, Aldric had been trying to protect her.
