She Was Supposed to Stay Broken, So I Let Her Think She Had novel · Chapter 20 of 40

Chapter 20: The Place That Knows Her

Dov catches my wrist at the apothecary counter before I can take the next customer's order. 'Back room, Sera. Your hands are shaking.'

Amber light gathers around her head. The market noise drops away. Beneath her words, her thought comes through in a second voice: She'll say she's fine. She always says she's fine.

I look at the jar in my hand. Its label is upside down. I set it down carefully.

'You could have asked me to come back there without diagnosing my hands.'

'I could have. Then you would have asked me to fill the order first.' Dov pulls me through the doorway. 'You're welcome.'

Her back room smells of dried mint and clean linen. A pan rests on the stove, its handle turned away from the edge. Dov lets go of my wrist and points at the chair beside the worktable.

I stay standing. Dov waits. She has patience for a whole room, provided the room is not me.

'I have three orders to finish,' I say.

'You have an order book, a pencil, and a chair. Sit down and choose which one is going to collapse first.'

I take the chair. Dov returns to the stove and checks the pan without looking at me.

This room has no council seal on the door. No one here needs my answer before deciding what my name is worth.

'Why do you let the pack's judgment set the terms of every choice?' she asks.

She says it plainly. There is no softer question hidden inside it.

I reach for the chipped cup beside me and warm my fingers around it. The tea is still hot. It tastes of fennel and orange peel, and I pay attention to that for a moment.

'I measure each move by how little it alerts Lirien,' I say. 'Sometimes that means I carry the cost alone.'

Dov looks over her shoulder. 'Sometimes?'

'Usually.'

The word sits between us. I could dress it up as strategy, call it necessary, make the choice sound cleaner than it feels.

Dov dries her hands on a cloth. 'You've turned patience into unpaid work.'

I laugh. The sound escapes before I can decide whether I want it heard. Dov's mouth lifts, and she puts the cloth down.

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