Chapter 9: My Name on the Page

Osric unfolded my paper without asking me to explain it first.

We stood beside the shed while Deborah collected the last plates.

Bram walked past carrying the enormous blanket.

He couldn't see over it.

"Private conversation," Deborah warned him.

My uncle turned carefully and walked into the shed door.

He apologized to the door.

Osric didn't laugh.

His eyes stayed on the words above his own signature.

"I didn't read this before signing," he said.

I hated how badly I wanted that to help.

"I did," I told him.

He looked up.

"Every time someone told me you were a fair king."

I had rehearsed a sharper speech upstairs.

There had been accusations, and facts, and a confident last sentence.

Now I only wanted him to understand what he'd done.

"I'd asked to say that women shouldn't have to leave their packs to be chosen," I said.

"You told me I wasn't fit to speak."

He looked at the page again.

"My signature told you that," he said.

"There's no useful difference for you."

I hadn't expected him to give up the easiest defense.

It left me with nowhere convenient to put my anger.

Deborah brought a clean towel to the shed door.

"This isn't a good private place," she told us.

"The window's open."

We moved behind the apple tree.

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