They Called My Father a Traitor, So I Learned Every Secret They Buried novel · Chapter 11 of 24

Chapter 11: The Oath She Wrote Away

I took the clinic key from Breda's open palm and set it beside the coal ledger before I let her inside.

My mother sat near the stove with both hands around a cup of mint water. Old Marta stood by the door, one hand resting on the harness leather at her belt.

Breda looked past me at them. Her mouth held its professional line, but the pause before she entered lasted too long.

'You brought witnesses,' she said.

'I brought people who remember the intake date.'

'You were nine when it happened.'

'Marta was seventeen. My mother was in the hall. You wrote the form.'

Breda stepped over the threshold. I took the key back and locked the door behind her.

The clinic was too small for rank. A table, two stools, the stove, the shelves, and the narrow cot where Kestrel had slept before the fever broke. Breda had taught me to keep every surface clear. She had also taught me that records mattered more than memory.

Memory could be frightened. Ink had fewer excuses.

Breda placed her satchel on the table but did not open it. Her eyes went to the coal ledger beside the key.

'You have been keeping accounts,' she said.

'I have been keeping patients alive.'

'Both can be true.'

'You used to believe that.'

My mother shifted in her chair. The stove gave a soft metal click as the coal settled.

Breda looked at her then. 'Maura, I did not come to defend Corvin's order.'

'You came carrying his seal,' my mother said.

Breda's fingers touched the satchel clasp. 'I came because he required an inspection of the records connected to the old border intake.'

'He required you to make the page agree with him,' I said.

Her eyes returned to mine. 'You already know what the page says.'

'I know what it says now. I want to know what it said before you made it useful.'

Old Marta moved from the door and set a chipped cup beside my mother. She had brought the good one. The one with the blue stripe.

'Breda,' Marta said, 'say it while the room is small.'

Breda's face changed by less than a finger's width. I saw it anyway. She had spent years making her expression harmless. That skill had never protected her from me.

'What do you want recorded?' she asked.

'Your account. The wound. The name of the person who stood behind you.'

'You want me to accuse the Alpha.'

'I want you to describe what you did.'

The room went still around the stove.

Breda unfastened her satchel. She took out a blank sheet, a bottle of ink, and a narrow glass pen. The pen shook once between her fingers. She set it down before the movement could happen again.

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