The Grace Year(38)

Just this morning, I had the feeling that there were a million fire ants crawling on my skin, only to find nothing there. I don’t have a name for what’s happening … I don’t know what to call it … but that still doesn’t mean it’s magic.

As I near the western edge of the clearing, I feel a heat move through me, like I’m burning from the inside out. Taking off my cloak, I lay it down over a stump and take in a deep breath of cool air. “Whatever this is, it will pass,” I whisper.

Grabbing the axe, I set my sights on an old pine. As I place my hand against it to steady myself, my fingers begin to tingle. The deep ridges in the rough bark seem to be pulsing with energy. Or maybe the energy is coming from me, but I feel like it’s trying to tell me something.

Pressing my ear to the bark, I swear I hear it whispering. I think this must be it, my magic taking over, when I realize the sound is coming from behind me.

Peering over my shoulder, I see Kiersten sitting on the stump, stroking my cloak, her nails scraping against the grain of the wool. I don’t know how long she’s been there watching me, but I don’t like it. I’m searching behind her, wondering where the rest of her followers are, but I think she’s alone.

“Put that down. It’s mine,” I say, gripping the axe in my hands.

“I don’t want your cloak,” she says, pushing it aside. “It’s heavy. No wonder you’re so muscular now.”

Peering down at my arms, I know she doesn’t mean it as a compliment.

“It feels good, to do something useful,” I say as I snatch the cloak from her, putting it back on. “You should try it.”

“Because isn’t that the biggest sin of all for a woman?” she says, twirling a sunlit curl around her finger. “Not to be of use.”

Her tone catches me off guard, but I need to stay cautious. “Why are you here, Kiersten?”

“I need you,” she says with a deep sigh. “The girls need you. You can help them.”

“If this is about the magic … I can’t embrace something I don’t have—”

“You’re right. I don’t think you have any magic, either.”

“What?” I perk up.

“I think you’ve been hiding it for years, that you burned through it right under our noses.” She gets up, stalking toward me. “That’s how you got your father’s attention, got him to teach you those things, and that’s how you stole Michael from me. You squandered your magic, and now you want them to bury theirs. Is there no decency in you?”

“Decency?” I jut my head back. “You’re one to talk. What about Gertie?”

“What about Gertie?” Her eyes narrow.

“You can cut the innocent routine. I know everything.”

“Do you, now?” She flashes an uneasy smile. “It would be a shame if Gertie was the first girl in the camp to fall.”

“Don’t threaten me.” I tighten my grip on the axe. “There’s no reason we have to die here.”

“We all die, Tierney.” The corner of her mouth twists up. “In the county, everything they take away from us is a tiny death. But not here…” She spreads her arms out, taking in a deep breath. “The grace year is ours. This is the one place we can be free. There’s no more tempering our feelings, no more swallowing our pride. Here we can be whatever we want. And if we let it all out,” she says, her eyes welling up, her features softening, “we won’t have to feel those things anymore. We won’t have to feel at all.”

Staggering back, I rest against the pine, feeling the wood beneath my fingertips … something real, something to anchor me to reality. But this is happening. Kiersten’s human, after all. I think I finally understand her. She’s afraid.

There’s a part of me that wants to give in … wants to believe … wants to be a part of this, so I can unleash my anger and be rid of it, but I can’t do it. Maybe it’s the memory of the girl from my dreams or maybe it’s just me, but I know we can be more than this.

“I can’t help you,” I whisper.

“Then I can’t help you,” she replies, her face hardening back into its usual mask. “I think you’ve done enough,” she says, taking the axe from me. “I’ll take it from here.”





After pacing the perimeter, trying to figure out what just happened, what to do, I’m heading back to camp to tell the others when I hear voices. I close my eyes, trying to block it out, but it’s not in my head this time.

“It’s the right thing … for both of you … for the good of the camp.”

Peeking around the larder, I find Gertie standing there with Kiersten. “Hey,” I call out.

Gertie looks up at me. Her face is red and damp with tears.

“The choice is yours,” Kiersten says before returning to the camp.

“What choice … What’s for the good of the camp?” I ask.

She wipes her face with the back of her filthy hand, clearly trying to pull herself together. “Kiersten’s called a gathering tonight … for the full moon.”

Thinking about what this means at home, I clench my hand into a fist, wondering which of my fingertips will be the first to go. “We can stay scarce.”