Benson Homestead

Three days before Sacrit

We were halfway through with the dishes by the time Mama finally arrived home. Ambrose and I stood at the kitchen sink, me washing, him drying. He'd been quiet through most of the evening's chores and all of dinner.

I nudged his hip with mine. "How was Ellora today?"

The corners of his lips quirked up at the mention of his fiancé. Ambrose sighed and placed a dried plate onto the stack next to him. "I was with her when I heard about the war. She . . . She didn't take the news well. I didn't expect her to, and I hate that I can't fix it. I wouldn't leave her if I didn't have to."

"I know that. I'm sure she does too."

"Her father says—"

"Twins!" Mama announced as she came through the door. Ambrose crossed the room and took her midwifery bag from her. She smiled across the room at me. "Both girls, both healthy, and both blessedly unmarked."

I was elbow-deep in dishwater, the black mark on my palm hidden beneath layers of soap, and I still felt the need to ball up my fist. The fire beneath my skin pushed insistently, reaching invisible hands toward the embers in the stove and the rising fire in the hearth.

There was no need to say that. With the prince's eighteenth birthday looming, it was assumed that all of the marked girls were already born. Already into their teens. And besides that, there was only ever one marked girl per county, and I was here in Varos—though it wasn't the county of my birth. So, it could also be assumed that there wouldn't be another goddess-touched girl born here.

But my mother hadn't said it because she'd expected any baby she delivered to be born marked, she'd said it because despite the reality of the situation, my mother relived the trauma of my birth—of my being born marked—with every child she ushered into the world. She saw me in them. Saw my mark on their skin, even when she knew that there wasn't truly one there.

The words were a reminder. And I hated that I was the root of her fear. I hated that my existence was tainted by my looming fate and her efforts to outrun it.

Ambrose caught my eye as he turned back toward the kitchen table and set Mama's bag on one of the empty chairs. "Thank the goddess for that," he said pointedly. Don't start anything, Monroe, he seemed to say to me.

"Yes." I sighed. "Thank the goddess."

Mama's honeysuckle-and-mint smell enveloped me as she moved past Ambrose to stand at the washbasin with me. "And thank the goddess for all of you. Seems all the chores are done. Dinner smells wonderful." She tugged at the rolled sleeve of my dress. "You know, I'd like to see you in something other than my old clothes. Maybe come spring, I'll get fabric and we can make you something new."

She must not know about the draft then.

I nodded despite myself.

Mama shrugged out of her sweater and untied her apron, each motion practiced and achingly familiar. The vision of her unlacing her shoes, washing her hands and face, tying back her graying hair, and pulling out her midwifery tools to be sanitized—all of those actions were as familiar to me as my own face.

This was my normal, my sense of peace—and watching her go through the processes of coming home to us made me realize what I was going to miss now that things might never truly be normal again.

Kace opened his mouth like he might tell her about the arrival of our draft letters, but Ambrose stopped him with a well-aimed jab to the ribs.

"There's stew left for you," I said. "And I made bread earlier."

"I doubt there's any bread left after Kace got a hold of it," Ambrose said.

Mama paused by the woodstove, lifting the lid of the pot to examine the vegetable stew warming there. "You know," she said, glancing pointedly at Kace. "Earlier today, someone mentioned to me that the magistrate was making rounds. Did he come by here?"

Ambrose sighed in defeat.

Mama set the lid aside with a soft clack. And smiled, tight-lipped, to herself.

Kace had always been a rule follower and if Mama asked a question, he'd answer honestly. It was nice sometimes—especially when you didn't want to be the bearer of bad news—but as siblings it was mostly a curse. Kace was nothing if not a snitch.

Mama grabbed a bowl and began filling it. Ambrose leaned his hip against the wooden kitchen counter and let out a long-suffering sigh as Kace said, "He delivered our draft letters."

My mother's posture turned stiff. "What draft?"

The bowl in her hand fell slack, nearly spilling its contents all over the floor. Ambrose pushed away from the counter and crossed the room in two steps. He took the bowl from her and pulled out one of the kitchen chairs before he guided her into it.

In that moment, she looked eighty, not barely forty-five. "When?"

"We have five days to report," Ambrose explained. "Me, Kace, and Monroe."

"Monroe?" Her face drained of color.

"Ambrose said that if I don't show up, they'll send people to look for me."

"It may not be a bad thing," Kace said quietly. "The prince turns eighteen this month. I know we didn't plan for her to go to the Culling, but maybe—"

"No." Mama was on her feet in an instant. "I'm not discussing that. We'll . . . We'll move. I can do my job anywhere. There are always babies to be birthed and mothers to tend to. And I still have the money Philip put away. I'm sure we can rent a place or—"

"What will you eat?" Kace said. "How will you hunt? And how will you explain where you've come from or who Monroe is?"

"I can wear gloves or wrap my mark or," I pulled my hands from the basin and grabbed a towel, "or I could just stay hidden. I've been staying away from town for years. Plus, with another war brewing against Vayelle, everyone will be too busy with their own troubles to worry about one teenage girl. I'm no one."

"You aren't just some random girl, Monroe. You're goddess-touched." Kace pulled out the chair across the table from where I stood and sat down. "That may have worked in the past, but it won't work once the Culling is announced. Our neighbors may not care about you now—they may not question a bandage or any of your other lies—but once the Culling is in session and one girl is missing, there will be a price on your head. The Crown will come looking for their missing contestant."

"We'll deal with that when it comes," Mama said, standing up again. "For now . . . For now I can only deal with one issue at a time. We'll find a way to move. We'll make a new life. Monroe will remain hidden. If anyone asks, all of my sons are enlisted, and I have no daughters. I live alone." She grabbed her bowl from where Ambrose had placed it next to the stove and walked back to the table.

"Monroe should continue to practice her ability," Ambrose said. "She needs to work with it. She's been smart about using it so far. If she uses her judgment and doesn't lose control, she should be fine. But as things are, it wouldn't be smart for her to neglect her training. Not with so many threats hanging over her. Over both of you."

"She isn't going to the Culling," Mama said. "I didn't move all the way to this goddess-forsaken county just so that my baby—just so Monroe—could be taken from me. It will not have been for nothing."

"It isn't just the Culling I'm worried about," Ambrose admitted.

Kace leaned back in his chair. "When the Culling is announced and Monroe doesn't show, every abandoned and starving woman in Varos will be fighting to be the one to track down the missing goddess-touched girl. They always offer huge incentives to help track down fleeing girls—with the draft in place and most of the men gone, the stakes will be high. Someone will find you. People will turn on each other for the reward alone. They'll need it to survive. Monroe can't—"

"Then I'll get the necessary papers and go to Vayelle," I said. "They don't believe in the Culling or the goddess."

Kace laughed. "No, you won't. With the war, the border between us and Vayelle will be closed off. No one will be able to get safely through the Suri Gap. And we aren't capable of scaling those mountains. Plus, you're talking about going into enemy territory."

"Vayelle isn't my enemy. They're Erydia's enemy—and right now, that country is safer than this one. They want our land. They care nothing about us."

"You're making assumptions," he said. "You don't know what you're talking about."

Fire heated my blood. "The border isn't closed now, is it?"

"It isn't. Not yet, at least," Ambrose said. "I saw people at the train station earlier today."

"Goddess, would the two of you get your heads out of your asses?" Kace said. "It would take months to get the necessary paperwork to leave Erydia. And that's without a war starting and without a damn mark on your hand. The choice is simple enough, Monroe."

Mama put her head in her hands. "Please, don't argue about this."

"I'm not arguing," Kace said. "I'm simply trying to get the three of you to see reason. Monroe, especially."

I straightened. "What would you like me to do then?"

"I'd like you to give up on outrunning the Culling and do what's best for the family," he said. "I'd like you to stop being a coward."

Mama inhaled sharply. "Kace Benson—"

"I'm not a coward," I said. "I've stayed hidden because it's what Mama wanted me to do."

"Maybe the time for hiding is over," Kace said. "Maybe you need to step up and help provide for our family. Ambrose and I have always pulled our weight. We have always made sure you were safe. But that's coming to an end. What will Mama do with Ambrose and me gone, when the rains come and the floodlands expand? When the winter stretch sets in and everything freezes over for months, what will she do?"

Mama shook her head. "What happens to me isn't Monroe's responsibility."

"Yes, it is," Kace said. "It's as much her responsibility as it is mine or Ambrose's. With us gone, neither of you will be able to hunt. The laws surrounding that won't change just because there's a draft."

"There's food in the cellar," Mama argued. "And I'll get money and food from patients."

"When the rains hit and the winter stretch sets in, you won't be able to travel to births either," Kace said. "There goes your food and your income. Ambrose and I will be gone and will have no way to look after you. The money we make in service won't be enough, and you'll starve. If Monroe remains here, she'll starve too. Hell, even if she could make it across the border to Vayelle, she'd still starve. How will she support herself? What will you do if the Vaylish decide to turn you in? You're relying on rumors and naïve hope. Neither will feed you. What will you do, Monroe? Do you plan to stand on street corners and sell your flesh?"

One of the logs in the hearth snapped and sparks hissed against the stone base of the fireplace as I said, "Whatever I plan to do is my decision, not yours."

"Enough," Ambrose said.

Kace shoved a finger in my direction. "If you go to the Culling, Mama will be taken care of. Our family would receive an allowance for as long as you're in the competition. And indefinitely if you become queen. You could save us. All of us. Imagine it, Monroe: a girl from Varos, from the slums, becoming Queen of Erydia. That's the solution, don't you see?"

"You're asking Monroe to put her life on the line," Ambrose said. "You're asking her to join a competition that could end with her death."

"Our lives are all on the line," Kace countered. "We're joining a war that could just as easily end in our deaths."

Ambrose shook his head. "You're talking as if being a soldier isn't something you've been dreaming about since you were a child. You want to serve the Crown."

"Good goddess, Ambrose." Kace gestured to me. "Don't you see? She could be the Crown. She could be queen. That mark on her hand isn't going to go away just because Mama refuses to acknowledge it."

"That's enough," Ambrose said. "You can express your opinions, but you aren't going to bully anyone into agreeing with you."

"We're arguing over a threat that doesn't even exist yet," Mama said, her voice drained. "The Culling is a bridge we'll cross when it comes. For now, we need to focus on the draft. Monroe and I can try to sell the farm and—"

Kace cut her off. "If Ambrose and I have to go to war, why shouldn't Monroe have to fight too?"

Ambrose's fist hit the table. "Because war with Vayelle isn't the same thing as a damn Culling, Kace. There will be nine other gifted girls in that arena. It's a glorified slaughter."

Kace shrugged, incredulous. "Monroe can hold her own. She isn't a child. She's seventeen years old and she's marked. She can create fire from nothing."

Even though I had no desire to fight in the competition or claim the crown, I still felt pushed to say, "Kace is right. If I had to go to the Culling, I could—I think I could survive, at least for a while—"

"But should she have to?" Ambrose demanded, not even acknowledging I'd said anything. "Should she have to fight and die for a few stray coins?"

"If it would help keep Mama alive while we're gone, then yes. She should."

The room fell silent.

"Have you seen her practicing behind the barn? It isn't like she doesn't know what she's doing. And it certainly isn't like Monroe doesn't enjoy using her ability." Kace nodded to me. "She only pretends to be disinterested because she knows it bothers Mama. She uses it every chance she gets. Every time Mama's back is turned, she uses it."

"Enjoying what I can do doesn't mean I want to die for it," I said.

"Listen to me," Kace said, his attention entirely on me. "You've spent years hiding from who you are and it hasn't changed anything. That mark isn't going to disappear. Your choice is to die running from it or die fighting for it. And you will never outrun the goddess."

I didn't have to look to know that Ambrose rolled his eyes. My brothers ran in different circles and held vastly different friends—and while they argued over a great many things, one of the biggest dividers in our household was the goddess and the temple.

Ambrose saw my mark as a threat.

Kace saw it as our divine deliverance.

I couldn't look at him as I said, "If the border is still open, then I'm going to try to make it to Vayelle." Kace opened his mouth to protest, but I held up a hand. "I've been saving money every birthday since I was little. I'm not sure it'll be enough to buy travel waivers, but—"

"I'll get the papers," Ambrose said. "And the train tickets. I'll get us both safely across."

Kace shook his head in disbelief. "You'll run from the draft?"

Ambrose nodded. "I'm not sending her to Vayelle alone."

Mama sighed. "I'll stay here and tell anyone who comes looking that two of my sons have run."

"You'll starve," Kace said.

She shook her head. "I'm not weak, Kace Benson. I'll remind you that I lived alone on this farm for years with three small children. I kept it running. I kept the three of you clothed and fed. I survived those years on my own and I can survive whatever else is to come. I lost my husband to the last war and I will not lose my children to another. I certainly will not lose my daughter to the Culling. Not if it's within my power to stop it."