The Grace Year

by Kim Liggett

We’re told we have the power to lure grown men from their beds, make boys lose their minds, and drive the wives mad with jealousy. They believe our very skin emits a powerful aphrodisiac, the potent essence of youth, of a girl on the edge of womanhood. That’s why we’re banished for our sixteenth year, to release our magic into the wild before we’re allowed to return to civilization.

“We are the weaker sex, weaker no more,” the girl says. The women answer with a primal roar.

I stop to watch the horses in the paddock being groomed by the guards for the journey to the encampment, their manes and tails braided with red ribbons. Just like us. And it occurs to me, that’s how they think of us … we’re nothing more than in-season mares for breeding.

I was the wild card. Tonight, I became a wife. All because a boy claimed it so.

but all we can really taste is the well water—it has a pungent, earthy aftertaste that seems to cling to the roof of your mouth.

Its poisoned. Maybe the poison makes them think they are magic

To pass the time,

They are going to fall in love

We come from completely different worlds, but I feel closer to him than I’ve ever felt to anyone.

I want to reach out to touch him again. I want to tell him that I’m here, that he’s not alone, but what good would it do? No matter the circumstances that threw us together, he will always be a poacher. I will always be prey.

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

“It’s not magic … it’s poison.”

I KNEW IT!!!

I’m in love with him.

With nothing but the moon and the stars as our witness, he lies beside me. Pressing our palms together, entwining our fingers, we breathe in time.

And when his lips meet mine, the world disappears. Like magic.

As the last bit of the flame sputters out, I whisper, “Heaven is a boy in a treehouse, with cold hands and a warm heart.”

That’s the problem with letting the light in—after it’s been taken away from you, it feels even darker than it was before.

“We hurt each other because it’s the only way we’re permitted to show our anger. When our choices are taken from us, the fire builds within. Sometimes I feel like we might burn down the world to cindery bits, with our love, our rage, and every thing in between.”

“But being without you isn’t an option anymore. If you don’t feel the same, if you don’t want to be with me, if this is too much, I’ll understand, I’ll turn around and—” Sinking to his knees, he wraps his arms around me, pressing his face into my skirts. “We’ll find a way.”

It’s easy to think of your life as being meaningless out here, a tiny forgotten imprint that can easily be washed away by the next passing storm, but instead of making me feel small, it gives every thing more purpose, more meaning. I’m no more or less important than a small seedling trying to burst through the soil. We all play a part on this earth. And however small, I intend to play mine.

The things we do to girls. Whether we put them on pedestals only to tear them down, or use them for parts and holes, we’re all complicit in this. But every thing touches every thing else, and I have to believe that some good will come out of all this destruction. The men will never end the grace year. But maybe we can.

“I owe you an explan—” “You owe me nothing,” he whispers. “I love you. I have always loved you. I will always love you. I only hope that in time you will grow to love me, too.”

The magic is real. Maybe not in the way they believe, but if you’re willing to open your eyes, open your heart, it’s all around us, inside us, waiting to be recognized.

“Her name is Grace,” I whisper. “Grace Ryker Welk. And she’s the one who’s going to change everything.”