The Grace Year(69)

I want to ignore it, pretend this isn’t happening, but in this moment, I wish he hadn’t mended my slip. I wish there was nothing between us.

He stares down at me with the same intensity as when we first met, but what I once took as anger, I now know to be fear.

“Are you afraid of me?” I whisper. “My magic?”

“I’m not afraid of you,” he says, watching my lips. “I’m afraid of the way you make me feel.”

As we stare into each other’s eyes, the world around us disappears. I forget all about the girls at the encampment, the poachers hunting them down. I forget about my dreams, the world I’ll have to return to come fall.

I want to be lost.

I understand why the girls in the encampment cling to their magic. It’s the same reason I cling to this. We’re all yearning for escape. A respite from the life that’s been chosen for us.

Right now, there’s only this. And there are worse ways to pass the time.

I’m not sure if I’m lifting my head or if he’s leaning forward, but we’re so close now that I can feel his breath pulsing against my skin.

As he brushes his lips against mine, I feel a rush of heat move through my body, and when our tongues touch, something else inside of me takes over.

Threading my hands in his hair, wrapping myself around him, I’m pulling him closer … when he’s ripped from my limbs.





A boy with madness in his eyes stands at the end of the bed, holding Ryker back. His shroud has slipped from his face, revealing a spray of tiny scars covering his cheeks. Anders.

“I knew something was wrong,” he pants. “Did it bite you?”

“It’s not what you think.” Ryker gives me a pleading look.

“Don’t look at it. It must’ve used its magic on you. Get your shroud, hurry, before it does something worse.”

Ryker lets out a long sigh. “I’m getting my shroud.”

Anders releases him and pulls a blade from the sheath on his belt. As he stalks toward me, Ryker reaches for the charcoal gauze hanging next to the hearth. I wonder if he really believes it … that I’ve somehow bewitched him.

I’m scooting back on the bed, all the way against the wall, when Ryker steps behind Anders, ensnaring his wrist with the shroud, twisting his arm back, forcing him to drop the blade. Before Anders can even react, Ryker has his hands tied behind him, the blade at his throat. “Don’t make me hurt you,” Ryker says.

“What are you doing?” Anders struggles to get free. “I’m not going to take it from you. It’s your kill.”

Ryker kicks the stool away from the table full of knives to in front of the hearth. “I want to explain this to you.”

“There’s nothing to explain. It put a spell on you. Anyone can see that.”

“There’s no spell,” Ryker says, forcing him to sit.

Unfortunately, Anders is directly in my line of sight now, which he takes full advantage of by staring a million daggers into me.

“Her name is Tierney.”

Anders shakes his head violently. “It doesn’t have a name. It’s prey. Nothing more.”

“This is the daughter of Dr. James. The man who saved your life.”

“So?”

“So … we owe him.”

Anders lets out a strangled laugh. “You’re just going to keep it … like a pet?”

“I don’t know what I’m going to do yet.”

“Look.” Anders softens his tone. “I get it, you’re lonely. We’re all lonely. But you’re going to have to kill it eventually. Or you could let me do it.” His eyes light up. “You can keep it until the end of the season, and when you’re done—”

“I don’t want to kill her,” Ryker says. “I want to be with her.”

The admission stuns me almost as much as Anders.

“Y-you can’t be serious?” he sputters. “We’re poachers. We took an oath.”

“There are higher oaths.” Ryker glances back at me, and all I want to do is shrink into the wall. “We always said we’d leave if given the chance.”

“This is our chance,” Anders says, nodding at me. “If you skin it, we can take your family west, just like we planned. You can pick any girl you want from the outskirts—”

“There are other ways to leave,” Ryker says.

“Wait … you’re not…” Anders’s face goes ashen. “You’re not thinking of deserting, are you? What about your family? Your pay? They’ll starve—”

“Not if you claim them as your own.” Ryker leans forward, looking at him intently.

“You’re serious,” Anders whispers, his eyes tearing up. “What about the guards? Have you thought about that? I’ve seen one of them sneaking around. He’ll be dragging in timber to fix the breach any day now. If they catch her here—”

“They won’t.”

“Unless I tell,” Anders mutters.

Ryker springs on him, holding the knife so close to his jugular that I hear it scraping against his whiskers. “I will die before I let anyone hurt her. Do you understand?”

“What about me?” Anders looks up at him, and I can almost feel his heart breaking. “What about our plans?”