There were few things more unsettling than watching ashen-faced Abus stand on the high platform in our village square, several of the king’s guards directly behind him.

“Ten copper coins says he vomits.”

I slammed my elbow into my brother’s gut. “Quiet.”

Tibris gave me a rare grin, and the vise around my chest loosened a little at his attempt to distract me from the guards.

“I’ll take that bet,” his friend Natan muttered on my right. A chilly breeze rustled the tree branches above us, and he hunched his shoulders, shoving his hands into the pockets of his cloak.

“You’re both terrible,” Asinia said, but her lips twitched.

The frost-speckled ground sparkled beneath the weak winter sun as we stood in the middle of our tiny village, our breaths turning to misty clouds in the frigid air. Abus had reached twenty-five winters, and today, he would receive his allotment of his power back.

From my position near the back of the crowd, I could observe everyone. The guards, wearing maroon and gold and dotted among the villagers. The

priestess in blue robes, preening under our attention. The king’s assessor, dressed in black, his large silver brooch denoting his power.

To them, our faces probably all blurred into a mass of poor, barely educated peasants dressed in rough homespun.

Abus was quiet and thin, and he wrung his hands, clearly nervous. While most of our magic was sacrificed to the gods days after we were born, the whisper of power he received back today would help him contribute to our village.

The king’s guard standing behind Abus looked bored, his uniform covered in dust from traveling. But the three guards surrounding Abus’s family were resting their hands on the hilts of their swords. If Abus was found to have somehow defied the gods, his mother, father, and sister would be instantly slaughtered. Right before Abus was taken to the city to burn on Gods Day. I shivered, wishing I’d brought a thicker cloak.

One of the guards glanced toward our group, and my shivers turned to a full-body shudder. My heart stumbled on its next beat, and my breaths turned to shallow pants.

“It’s not that cold, Prisca.” Natan scowled at me. But his face was pale too. Anyone with a shred of intelligence feared the king’s guards.

On my left, Tibris was quiet, his eyes dark with sorrow. We didn’t often talk about what would happen when I disappeared in a couple of years. I was going to have to figure out my future—and soon.

Because this kingdom meant death for me.

The king’s assessor stepped forward, dark eyes narrowed in his strongly carved face. His knife-sharp cheekbones, hard mouth, and wide shoulders made him a powerful, intimidating man—one who was known to enjoy his work immensely.

It was his job to check whether Abus had somehow hidden his magic all these years. That power made the assessor—and others like him—infinitely valuable to the king.

The assessor watched Abus. His smile was slow as he held his hands close to Abus’s face.

You’d have to be blind to miss the disappointment in the assessor’s eyes when he shook his head. Abus was indeed powerless—his sacrifice accepted by the gods when he was a newborn. Something unwound in my chest, and I could suddenly breathe easier. We’d never had an assessor find one of the corrupt during a Gifting ceremony in our village. They were

usually discovered as children—when they accidentally used their powers for the first time. Or they were captured while attempting to flee before they reached twenty-five winters.

Behind Abus, three more villagers waited for their turn—each of them recently having celebrated twenty-five winters, and all three of them displaying varying levels of excitement and terror. Jaelle looked like she might faint, while her twin brother Wilkin was expressionless. Lina shifted on her feet, clearly eager to receive her own power. She nodded to her grandparents, who were standing at the front of the crowd, smiling proudly up at her.

The king’s assessor stepped back. The priestess held up her hand, and we bowed our heads.

“As infants, we gift our magic to the gods, so that they may be pleased with our offering and grow it under their care. Today, Abus will reap his reward, the gods acknowledging the sacrifice he made, so that they may watch over us and protect us from those who would threaten our way of life.”

She practically spat the last words, her hatred of the fae palpable. They were the creatures who had caused the need for such sacrifice. The monsters who would prey on us if our king hadn’t found a way to protect our kingdom from their cruelty.

The priestess raised her other hand, displaying a blue oceartus stone, glowing with power. She turned to Abus. “Your sacrifice has brought fortune to us all. Now, the gods return what was yours, which they have blessed. And they will further bless you for your sacrifice when you leave this world.”

The stone began to glow brighter. And brighter. Abus stiffened, cheeks flushing. And the stone went dark. Inert. Empty.

I couldn’t help but smile. Abus had received his gift back.

The priestess held her hand to his temple. A moment later, the blue circle marked him as someone who had reached twenty-five winters and completed the Gifting ceremony. That blue mark meant freedom. Several whoops sounded from the villagers surrounding Abus.

It was the twins’ turn next, and they stood together on the high platform, waiting to be assessed. I gazed up at the freestanding wooden structures that had been purpose-built for the king’s guards. Several of the guards were

currently poised on those structures among the thatched rooftops surrounding the square, crossbows in their hands.

Fury rose, sharp and swift.

It bubbled in my chest, tingled in my fingers, sparked along my skin.

Usually, I attempted to bury it deep beneath grim acceptance of our lives. Today, I embraced it like a lover.

The gods needed our magic to keep us safe from the fae. But why did it have to be this way?

Why did our kingdom’s sacrifice also have to mean terror and death?

Tibris elbowed me, and I took a deep breath, refocusing on the ceremony and ensuring my expression was blank. Any strange behavior could mean a surprise visit from the assessor. And then we would both be dead.

Wilkin and Jaelle stepped down, their wisp of power restored. Lina practically danced past them, obviously more than ready for her own gift. The guards left the twins’ parents and encircled Lina’s grandmother and grandfather.

The priestess reached for the oceartus stone. The king’s assessor held his hand over Lina’s head.

And smiled.

I could feel the blood draining from my face. Next to me, Tibris stiffened, slowly shifting his weight as he glanced around. My brother was searching for a way out of the square. But the guards above us would spot anyone attempting to flee.

“The magic of luck,” the assessor announced. “Right here, where it shouldn’t be.”

Lina frowned. “I don’t— I’m not—” “Silence!”

I closed my eyes. Luck was a passive power. The kind of power that Lina may not have even known she was using.

Her grandparents began to beg in high, desperate voices.

I opened my eyes just as both of their heads rolled to the ground.

The king’s guards had dispatched them in an instant. Behind me, someone gagged. To my left, a woman let out a high shriek. I stared, my mind unable to accept what I’d just seen.

Lina swayed on her feet. And then she began to scream.

The sound pierced the silence. And the crowd instantly responded.

Someone shoved into me from the right. Someone else hit my left side. Pure panic. A child went down to his knees, crying out for his mother, and Tibris hauled him up by the back of his shirt.

The king’s guards were moving toward Lina. She’d stopped screaming and was backing away from them, as far as she could move on the wooden platform.

Several chickens broke free of their cage at the side of the square and flapped across the guards’ feet. The guards tripped, falling to their knees.

The gift of luck.

The village butcher turned to run. The first arrow took him between the shoulders. The second and third hit him in the spine, and he dropped to the ground.

“Nobody move!” a guard roared above us.

The entire crowd seemed to freeze. All I could see were wide eyes and stunned faces. Bile climbed up my throat as I slid my gaze back to the platform.

The assessor turned and backhanded Lina across the face. She dropped to her knees, and he kicked her square in the back, gesturing for another guard. Striding up the steps, the guard hauled her to her feet, clamping heavy irons to her wrists.

Lina hung her head, clearly dazed. Her only family was dead, with no husband to fight for her. There was a reason the legal age of marriage was twenty-five winters.

The assessor turned to us. “The corrupt, who were either rejected by the gods or who prevent the gods from taking their power—who choose blasphemy instead of truth—will be made to burn for their sins. Our king is so committed to protecting his kingdom from the fae that he has recently announced a bounty.”

The priestess nodded. “One hundred gold coins to anyone who informs us of one of the traitors.”

A few foot-spans to our right, a woman sucked in a sharp breath. I couldn’t blame her. One hundred gold coins, and she’d never have to work again.

The assessor surveyed the crowd, his gaze burning with fervor as if he could seek out magic lingering where it shouldn’t be.

Surely he could hear the thud of my heart. Could smell the fear-sweat that clung to my skin. The world receded until his face was all I could see.

He stepped down into the crowd, which parted for him. He seemed to be walking directly toward me, as if he knew.

Tibris stepped between me and the assessor. He made the move look casual, as if he was excited to congratulate Abus. But I stumbled backward, tripped on the hem of my cloak, and slammed into a hard male chest.

Strong arms caught me. The man held me suspended for a long moment, and we both froze, watching the assessor.

But he’d already sauntered through the crowd, likely readying himself to travel to the next village.

I glanced up at the man, and my breath caught in my throat.

The sun sliced across his eyes, which glittered with annoyance. The rest of his face was hidden by a black woolen scarf, and he wore the hood up on his cloak, covering his hair. I couldn’t tell his age, if he was clean-shaven… anything about him.

But I knew him.

At least once a month, I dreamed of a man with green eyes. No, not just green. The word didn’t even begin to describe them. Those eyes were haunting. A dark yet vibrant green with flecks of silver that seemed to attract the light. In my dreams, the man looked back at me as if patiently waiting. Some days, the dreams left me anxious. Other days, I felt a deep contentment—almost…safe.

“Watch where you’re going,” he snarled, lifting me back onto my feet. “Charming,” I muttered. “Well, thank you for—”

He’d already turned and walked away.

I stared after the cold, rude brute and shook myself out of my daze. Of course I didn’t know him. The events of this morning were rattling my mind. I turned to find Tibris watching the guards as they climbed down from the rooftops surrounding the village square.

“Pris? Are you okay?” Asinia squeezed my shoulder. Her eyes were dark, her face pale, lips bloodless.

I likely looked just as shaken. While it was always a possibility that one of the corrupt would be found, no one had expected to see what we’d seen today.

“I will be,” I said. “Are you?”

She just nodded. We stared at each other for a long moment. Someone laughed, the sound entirely inappropriate as it cut through the somber crowd, and Asinia flinched. We both turned.

Abus’s face was flushed with color as he embraced his family. His mother smiled, while his father slapped him on the back. Now, the family would take their five silver coins—a gift from the king. Tradition dictated that the entire village was invited to the celebration in this square—each villager bringing whatever food they could.

Abus’s father had even managed to barter for a pig, which had been roasting on a spit since the early hours of the morning. The scent of the meat drifted throughout the village, curling into open windows and beneath closed doors.

My stomach clenched uneasily at the thought.

Tibris eyed me and opened his mouth. But Natan was already shoving his way toward us.

“So…that was awful. Who’s staying for the celebration? I need a drink.”

The sun had barely risen, but I was willing to bet half this village would be in their cups by noon after what had just happened.

Tibris watched Natan wander toward the wine. Then he turned back to me. “You should go check on Mama,” he said carefully. “I’ll stay here.”

I knew what he was saying. He didn’t want to stay for the feast. Probably wanted to be alone. But one of us had to stay and pretend to celebrate or our household would draw attention. Truthfully, it was difficult to understand how anyone could sit and eat only foot-spans from where Lina’s grandparents had just died. Both her grandmother and grandfather had been popular in this village, yet their bodies had already been removed, the blood washed away, as if they’d never existed. Soon, most of our neighbors would loudly be giving thanks to the gods that one of the corrupt had been found and taken from our village.

And Tibris wanted to spare me from that. Gratitude swept through me. “You’re right. I’ll see how she’s feeling.”

It was difficult to receive an exemption from the Gifting and Taking ceremonies. My mother only had one because her visions could strike at any time, disturbing the peace.

“I’ll walk you home,” Asinia said. “Just let me tell my mother.”

She walked away and my gaze met Thol’s. He stood near Abus’s family, looking ruggedly handsome as always. He smiled at me, and despite the roiling in my stomach, my cheeks heated. I’d never been this self-conscious with a man before, but wings fluttered in my chest each time I looked at

Thol. His sister Chista leaned over and murmured something to him, and I turned away, forcing myself to stop staring.

Nearby, Kreilor was practically shouting as he talked to a group of his friends, ensuring everyone in the vicinity could hear his conversation.

Tibris shook his head and stalked away, likely to get a drink of his own.

He’d never liked Kreilor. I couldn’t blame him.

All the men in our village were required to learn how to fight—ready to be called to march on the fae if our borders failed. The boys were trained from a young age, and the only way they could be excused from training was if they chose the path to the gods. Kreilor had done exactly that and was studying as an acolyte to our village’s priestess.

“And then the priestess showed me the inner sanctum,” Kreilor announced, a smug little smile on his face.

I went completely, utterly still.

If Kreilor could get into the inner sanctum, he’d have access to the empty oceartus stones. Maybe I could follow him and…borrow one.

I’d memorized the priestess’s chants. What if I could make the stones work for me? My pulse thumped faster, my mind racing in a hundred different directions.

One of his friends snorted. “You were allowed into such a holy space?”

Kreilor’s chest puffed up. “Of course I was. I will, after all, be performing ceremonies within the next three years.”

I shuddered at the thought. Kreilor had been a bully since we were children. He smirked at beggars, chose the only position that would allow him to skip training with those he considered beneath him, and used his family’s wealth and reputation to get whatever he wanted.

Thol walked past, easily drawing attention from Kreilor.

The two men loathed each other. Their fathers were good friends, and both had been given every privilege found in this village as they’d grown up. But while Thol had remained kindhearted, Kreilor had become obsessed with proving himself.

Asinia stepped up next to me, winding her arm through mine. “This is awkward,” she murmured as Thol ignored Kreilor completely. “Let’s get you back to your mother.” She tugged me, and we walked toward my house. My boots scuffed on the cobblestones, but all I could see was Lina’s grandparents’ blood, pooled on the stones in the square.

What would Asinia say if I told her that unless I managed to get out of this village, it would be me on that platform one day, watching Tibris and Mama be slaughtered—their bodies dragged away as if they were nothing?

If she kept my secret, and the assessor found out, Asinia would die too.

We walked in silence for most of the way home. Finally, Asinia took a deep breath.

“That was some moment with you and Thol,” she said.

She was attempting to cheer me up. I could do the same for her. “It was just a smile. I lose the ability to speak around him.”

“You forget, you may be terrible at flirting, but it’s one of my best skills.

And I know when a man is interested.”

“Don’t placate me. It’s even more depressing.” She squeezed my arm. “I’m not. You’ll see.”

We took our usual route home from this side of the village, walking past the large, spacious, warm homes behind the thick metal gate separating them from the rest of the village. What must it be like to live in those homes? Not to have to watch every coin or huddle next to the fire in winter because the glass in the bedroom windows was broken?

“Prisca?”

“Sorry. Daydreaming. What will you do after the feast?” “I’m helping my mother with some work.”

Asinia’s mother was a seamstress, and her daughter came by her talent naturally.

I glanced at Asinia. We had different dreams. I wanted nothing more than to be able to stay right here, while she longed for a life in the city. Regardless of how much magic Asinia received back when she finally came of age in two winters, she hoped the reputation of her work would spread, until the news reached someone in the city who would come and hire her.

It would happen. No one sewed or designed like Asinia.

Wherever I ended up, I’d find a way to let her know I was safe. Maybe, if she could forgive me, we’d even be able to exchange a letter or two. My chest ached at the thought of not seeing Asinia every day. Would she ever be able to forgive me for such dishonesty?

“You should come for dinner tomorrow night,” Asinia said.

I hid a wince. Asinia and her mother weren’t quite as poor as us, but they definitely didn’t have much food to spare either. And yet, they both kept trying to feed me.

“Asinia.”

“My mother loves you, Prisca. She knows how things have been since your father died.”

“I’ll think about it.”

Asinia raised her eyebrow in that way she did when she knew exactly what I was thinking. “Your mother would do the same for me.”

She waved and turned back toward the square. I continued along the dusty path and unlocked our front door.

“Mama?”

Our house was quiet. Unnaturally quiet. Eerily quiet.

Sprinting into her room, I dropped to my knees next to her. Her eyes rolled, and she gasped for air.

My mother was in the midst of a vision.