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“I’m sorry I dragged you into this,” she said, sliding off the bench to her feet. Trouble hopped onto her shoulder, his sharp talons piercing the thin layer of fabric. She needed to invest in shoulder pads or something.
The lights were kept low inside the chamber, whether for dramatic effect or a medical reason, she couldn’t say. Shades were drawn over the windows, allowing only a sliver of light to leak through. A long table stretched the width of the room, raised on a dais. Six figures sat on the far side, all dressed in black and blending in with the shadow. She heard the clacking of beaks and the rustling of feathers but did not see any karu.
Lenore’s eyes adjusted to the dim lighting. This had to be an intimidation tactic.
“Be seated,” a faceless figure said, voice ringing out in the still room.
Wonderful. This situation had a full-blown inquisition feel to it. She knew they were trying to make her nervous, to put her off her game, and it was working, dammit.
Trouble butted his head against her ear. He trilled softly, three reassuring notes that eased the ratcheting anxiety inside her chest.
“We got this,” she muttered, shuffling forward until her shins bumped into another bench. Using her hands as a guide in the dark, she sat. Harol settled on the bench next to her.
“Lady Kelley, you know why we’ve summoned you today,” the same voice said.
“Actually, I don’t,” she said, more than a little weirded out at being referred to as Lady Kelley. It was accurate, thanks to her new bond with Trouble, but still felt like people were talking about someone else.
“Pardon?”
“I don’t know why I’m here,” she repeated. The board agreed to honor her medical licensure if she passed an exam in a year’s time. Every instinct screamed at her to speculate as to what they wanted. An update on her progress? Had there been a patient complaint? A pop quiz? What? She managed to keep her mouth shut, expecting they would hope she would fill the silence with self-incriminating babble.
She waited.
The board waited.
Harol sighed dramatically.
So far, this was going great.
“The board has concerns,” the voice finally said.
Another long pause. If they expected Lenore to incriminate herself, they were headed for disappointment. For one, she totally saw the mind game they were trying to play. For another, she hadn’t done anything. Every interaction with a patient had been above board, well-documented, and discussed with her mentor.
“This is ridiculous. Stop wasting our time,” Harol snapped.
A murmur went through the board members. Finally, a new voice with a kinder tone spoke. “We have concerns that Lady Kelley’s personal life is a distraction to the academy.”
“I don’t see how,” Lenore said, instantly regretting her words. She should have kept her mouth shut.
“Don’t you? Your clinic appointments have been canceled or rescheduled with alarming frequency. The media lurks outside the academy and the clinic, hoping to encounter you. Reporters sneak into lecturers. The number of karu has increased threefold on academy grounds, all no doubt wanting to catch a glimpse of you. The academic environment has been disrupted, patients can no longer enjoy privacy regarding their medical matters, and this is all down to you.”
Anger flared in her stomach. “I can hardly be blamed for people’s curiosity. I’ve done my best to keep my personal life private. I’m not giving interviews or inviting the media to a press conference,” Lenore said.
“No,” the first voice spoke. “You cannot be blamed for that, but we can question your priorities.”
“There was an incident with an allergic reaction, I believe,” a new voice added.
“The patient did not inform me of any allergies, and they were not listed in the chart,” Lenore replied. She knew they’d bring up that incident. It had been unfortunate, but how could she have avoided it when the patient wasn’t even aware of their allergies?
“The patient was hospitalized.”
Lenore ground her teeth in frustration. They weren’t going to let her do it, were they? They had a whole list of reasons and excuses to deny her. There was a terrible soap opera she used to watch with her mother over summer breaks. One of the characters—probably a horribly racist depiction now that she thought of it—complained in a thick accent, “In my country, I was a doctor. Here, I clean the floors.” She thought it so improbable at the time, but here she was, a doctor on her planet and barely qualified to clean floors.
Harol laid a hand on her arm as if to calm her, then rose to his feet. “I understand the board’s concerns, but I question why the board feels it had the right to pry into the personal life of my apprentice.”
“What right? We can’t avoid the human’s personal life. What right does her personal life have to push its way into our institution?”
“The same right as any other student to have a personal life. Does the board question every student? Scrutinize their schedules? Question their dedication to medicine?”
