“You knew that this girl was what you were looking for?" he says. “All this time you knew?”
We don’t have time for this,I think. God knows who’s following us, what they have or what they could do. “Yes,” I say. “Yes, I knew—or we thought we knew. I didn’t believe it—I wanted proof, and?—”
“So youliedto me,” he interrupts.
I freeze. “What?”
“You lied to me,” he repeats. “To me, and to the Prior at Arms, and to all the White Brothers. Youknewthis girl was what we were looking for, and you said nothing?”
Fury boils out of me. “OfcourseI lied to you," I scream. "I'm not stupid. I know what you're capable of."
My father's face contorts into a snarl. "And what is that supposed to mean?"
"I know what you did," I say. "To my mother," I add.
Something shifts in his expression. Not fear, but wariness.
"I don't know what you're talking about," he says, after a beat. "Come, give her to me. The Consistory?—”
“You knew she would die," I interrupt. "You knew that carrying a child would kill her. The risk of a fatal hemorrhage was almost certain. The same bleeding disorder, which she passed on to me, and you never seemed to tell me about.”
I think back to the nurse at the airport.
The needle slides into the crook of my arm. I watch the dark red blood fill the vial, then another, then a third. The nurse—middle-aged, competent, speaking careful English—labels each one methodically.
"You are fencer, yes?" he asks conversationally. "Many cuts, I am thinking. Much bleeding sometimes?"
"Not really," I say. "The weapons are blunt. We wear protective gear."
He hums, removing the needle and pressing gauze to my arm. “Hold, please.” I do. He nods. “Good.” He indicates the gauze with his pen. “You bleed longer than normal person. Much longer. A violent sport, someone like you…” He makes a sympathetic tsk sort of noise.
”I’m sorry,” I say. “Someone like me?”
He looks at his clipboard now, frowning slightly, then back up.
"Factor VIII deficiency, yes? Von Willebrand disease?"
The words don't make sense for a moment.
"Bleeding disorder," he explains. "Mild case. But any serious injury could be very dangerous.”
I stare at him.
"You did not know?" He looks surprised. I don’t know what to say. “Ah. Well. Now you know. Be careful with your swords, please.” He smiles warmly. “And if you marry, have children--”
“What?” Alarm strikes me like a bolt of lightning. “Why?”
“Hereditary. No danger to you. But a woman with this condition, if she carries both chromosomes…” He makes a gesture I don't understand. "Fatal hemorrhage. Very high risk."
All the air leaves my lungs.
“This was in my chart,” I confirm. “This deficiency.”
The nurse checks the clipboard again. “Yes. It—” His face falls. “I’m sorry,” he says, voice low. “I did not know.”
He turns the clipboard to me, and there it is.
FACTOR IV – (Maternal)
