Eli wrote Bram’s name at the top of a page and disliked the page immediately.
He had meant to write one sentence. Thank you for giving an accurate account. The words should have been easy. They described something Bram had done in front of witnesses, with consequences Eli could measure in the written ruling beside him.
Instead he stared at the name until the first-life raid returned in fragments he did not want to put on paper. A door. A decision made elsewhere. People who had trusted a route because somebody with authority said it was clear.
Tessa sat across from him sorting the public hearing papers from the care notes. She did not reach for the unfinished message.
“You don’t owe him your whole judgment,” she said.
“I resent owing him anything.”
“He helped keep Kellan’s score intact.”
“I know.”
