The Grace Year(29)

When Jenna gets close enough, she nudges the mysterious mound with her boot. It rolls over. “It’s just a county-issued pack.” She laughs.

“Hey, isn’t that Tierney’s family sigil?” Molly points toward the three swords embroidered in the burlap.

Helen noses her way in. “Did you do that, Tierney? Did you use your magic to make your bundle come back to you?”

“No.” I shake my head. “I swear, it wasn’t me.”

“How can that be?” Meg asks. “We all saw what happened to it … when Kiers—”

“I’m not without mercy,” Kiersten says with a smile.





Before the last ember dies out, we light a few more lamps and file inside the long, dismal log-hewn structure. No one says it out loud, but I don’t think any of us likes the idea of being trapped inside with one another. We’re not locked in and counted, like we are at the church, but something about it feels even more dangerous. We’re so vulnerable during sleep. Anything can happen here, and no one will tell the tale.

There are only twenty iron beds set up with mattresses; the rest are piled up in a corner of the room like old bones. Half of those are missing their mattresses. I don’t even want to think about what happened to them. It’s a heavy reminder of how many of us won’t make it home alive.

Kiersten lies down on one of the good beds to test it out, stretching out her long legs.

Jenna sits on the next bed over. “I can’t believe we have to sleep here.” She crinkles up her nose as she stares down at the dingy mattress. “I think this one belonged to a bed wetter.”

“We’re here to rid ourselves of our magic. That’s all.” Kiersten sighs. “Besides, as soon as the first girl with a mattress dies, you can have hers. Double up.”

I look over at her sharply. I can’t believe how casually that just rolled off her tongue. As if dying is a given—not a question of how, but when.

Glancing around the room, I’m wondering if we can somehow change this. Maybe Gertrude’s right—if I can be of use, maybe they’ll start to trust me … listen to me.

“I saw a lavender bush on the edge of the clearing,” I say as I pretend to inspect the stacked-up bed frames. “If we mix lavender with baking soda, that will spruce them right up. In the morning, I can set up a washing station. We can also build rain barrels to collect drinking water and—”

“We don’t need any of that.” Kiersten cuts me off.

Jenna looks at her pleadingly. “But the well water tastes funny.”

“We’ll drink from the well, like every other grace year girl before us,” Kiersten says.

“Is that her magic?” one of the girls whispers. “Knowing things … knowing about plants and how to fix things?”

“It’s not magic,” Kiersten snaps. “It’s just because her father treated her as a son,” she says as she gets to her feet, prowling toward me. “Do you have a willy under there? Maybe you’re not a girl at all.” Kiersten cups her hand between my legs. It takes everything I have to force myself to stand still and take it. “Or maybe you like girls? Is that your secret?” She’s whispering in my ear. “Why you’ve always been so afraid to be around us?”

“Please stop,” Gertrude says.

“What’s it to you?” Kiersten’s eyes flash toward her.

I shudder to think what the punishment for that would be. Back in the county it meant the gallows. Certainly, under Kiersten’s rule, it would be something much worse.

“I wonder what your magic will be?” Kiersten says, picking at Gertrude. “Something depraved.” She stares down at her scarred knuckles. “A power only a sinner could possess.”

I know I told Gertrude I’d stand down, take the punishment, but I didn’t say anything about standing by watching her punish someone else.

“Leave her alone,” I say.

“There she is.” Kiersten gives me a sly look. “I wondered how long it would take you to come out, Tierney the Terrible.”

“That’s right. You’re good with nicknames, aren’t you?”

“Don’t.” Martha tugs at my sleeve. “You saw what happened to Laura … what she can do.”

“Laura had been collecting stones the entire way, slipping them into the hems of her skirts. She chose to die.”

Kiersten stiffens as if a metal rod has been inserted in her spine. “Are you calling me a liar? After I took mercy on you and got your supplies back for you? Are you saying my magic isn’t real?”

“No.” I swallow hard. “I’m not saying that. I just think we should slow down. Examine everything … question everything … no matter how things may appear.”

“You sound like a usurper,” Kiersten says. “Back in the county, they’d tie you to the iron tree and burn you alive.”

“But we’re not in the county anymore,” I say, forcing myself to meet her gaze. “If we stick together, if we’re careful, maybe no one else has to die.”

Kiersten laughs, but when no one joins in, she steps so close that I can feel her breath on my skin. “Deny it all you want, but deep down you feel it. You know what needs to happen here. You know what I can do to you.”