Her eyes widen. “He was killed?” I nod. “A few days after we saw Markham take him.” Her face turns the same shade as her robes. “He was looking for an account of a border attack that doesn’t exist. I told him there’s no such record, but he came back three times, certain there was because he’d had family killed in the event. I recorded the request and sent it up my chain of command, thinking it would help him, but…” She shakes her head and drops her hands, blinking back tears. “It’s not your fault,” I sign, but she doesn’t respond, and it hits me that I could have been hauled away by Markham
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