I know she will.
Almar watches me a moment, deciding if this exercise is worth it. But, given what comes next, we both know this is nothing more than a formality.
“Okay,” he says finally, pushing back from the table and gathering his papers. “We’ll see about that.”
“I’m sure we will.”
He leaves with the same air of hostility with which he entered, swinging the door open wide and slamming it shut behind him.
I go back to lounging in the chair while I wait.
This time, there is a knock at the door before it opens.
“Come on in,” I call.
The metal creaks as my next guest takes their time, and I stand to hold the door open as they enter.
“Young Cross,” he says, his usual formal greeting.
“Hey, Tree.”
He turns on me, hands stuffed in his tweed jacket, fiddling with the watch in his pocket.
“That is all I am to receive?” he asks. “‘Hey, Tree?’”
I correct myself.
“Hello, Treehorn.”
He pats my hand before continuing to the table, where I pull out his chair as he takes a seat, his short legs a few inches from touching the floor.
“I thought we had an agreement,” Tree sighs. “When you started at the store, you said that this would not happen again.”
He waves his hand around the room to sum up our current circumstances, and I hang my head, unable to meet his gaze.
“We did,” I say. “But, I swear, Tree, I didn’t do anything. Honest.”
His hazy eyes inspect me, power penetrating as he tries to decipher the truth of my words. When he cannot find them for himself, he simply asks, “Then why are we here?”
I know why I’m here. Iris needed me.
Simple.
But I can’t say that to Tree. His role as watcher to the inquisition means he is sworn to honor the truth in whatever report he gives. He may care about me, but even his favor cannot escape a sworn promise.
“Some things are worth it,” I say.
“You may feel otherwise after this.”
I won’t. My decision was made that night in the grove. I would not let her become like me. I refused.
Tree drags the chair into the center of the room and commands me to sit. I don’t need any further instruction. I remember the first time like it was yesterday.
I was nervous then. Terrified of what he might find. I was certain he’d report that the inqury have me dismembered at their earliest convenience. Or perhaps confined to my cage for all eternity. In fact, I think they would have, if not for Tree.
I lean down in my chair, bringing my face in range of his short arms, and he settles his hands on my cheeks as we lock eyes.
“I didn’t do it,” I say. “You’ll see.”
