Chapter 22: The Price

Clara stood on the frost with both hands open at her sides.

For a second nothing happened.

Then the chain at my throat went white.

It did not burn.

It lit from inside, a clean bright silver, and the cold in my chest turned over and began to leave.

It went out of my fingers first, then my arms, then my ribs.

Warmth came pouring in behind it.

I made a sound I had never made before.

Across from me, Clara's chain flared the same way, and she gasped and reached for the clasp.

"Don't touch it," Hester shouted. "Let it go on its own!"

The links cracked.

One by one they turned to grey ash.

The ash fell from our necks in a soft pale rain and vanished in the frost.

I put my hand to my throat.

There was nothing there.

There was only my own skin, warm, and my own pulse under it, strong and quick and loud.

"Clara," I said.

She was standing on her own.

No cane, no hand, no arm under hers.

She stared down at her own feet in the frost.

"It's gone," she said. "Brynn, it's gone. The pain is gone."

"Does it hurt anywhere?"

"No!"

"Does it..."

"I feel like I could run," Clara said, and laughed, high and astonished.

Under my skin something rose.

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