Keston arrived at the warehouse two days later, practically vibrating with the kind of energy Mercer hadn't seen from his uncle in months. He found Mercer in the upstairs office reviewing shipment manifests and shut the door firmly behind him before speaking.
"I remembered," Keston said. "Where I'd seen her face."
Mercer set down his pen immediately. "Senna."
"Not Senna. Not that name, anyway." Keston pulled a chair close to the desk, lowering his voice despite the closed door. "Fourteen years ago, I attended a council hearing regarding grain tariffs in the northern provinces. A merchant named Garrick Brace testified that day, arguing against a tax increase that would have ruined smaller trading houses. He brought his daughter with him, young at the time, maybe nine or ten years old."
