"I'm sure that can't be so," Anaisa swallowed, her eyes flickering down to the little bundle still in Deborah's arms. "It cannot have been your fault."
"It is so," The magic user looked down with shame.
"How? How can that be?" The auburn haired woman's anxiety grew.
"A man approached me, offering me a job," Deborah's voice quivered. "He promised such handsome pay that it made me suspicious of what he wanted from me. When I asked him to elaborate on what my responsibilities would be, he told me travel, and adventure.
"I was wary. My husband's work was rooted in the city. He could not leave it, and I refused to go anywhere without him. The man became insistent, and the more he did, the more I was convinced that the employment must be something immoral." She paused, and took a shaky breath.
Poor Deborah. Poor Ewan. Poor Doctor. Poor Author enduring probably some angry comments from readers.