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.”