Edgar runs a hand lovingly across the spines of the books on the nearest shelf as he follows slowly after her.

Words have always been so precious to him - their shape, their sound, their meaning, their power. Books, with all their secrets, spoke in silence, just like him. He can't imagine living in a world where those secrets were few.

Stepping over, he takes Daine's wrist, and his tone is sympathetic and a little sad when he says, I'm sorry.