There was a pause, the sound of someone shifting in the pews. Then Brother James spoke, “And if he doesn’t take to it? We’ve had others come sniffing around before. How do we know he’s not law enforcement? Or a reporter?”
Father chuckled quietly. “If that happens, Brother, then the Light will deal with him as it deals with all pretenders. But I don’t think Jace is one of them.” I heard the creak of the pulpit as Father leaned forward, his voice dropping lower, more intimate. “He’s a man with a soldier’s bearing. He hides his sins well, but they’re there—I can smell them. Guilt like that always seeks cleansing. All we must do is offer him the fire.”
The room murmured in approval.
Brother Paul said, “You speak highly of him, Father. You think he could take a place among us? In the Inner Circle, I mean.”
“If he proves himself worthy,” Father replied. “I believe he might. The Light has use for men who understand both obedience and fear. But he will need to show devotion first. There can be no half-faith.”
I pressed my hand to the wood, feeling my pulse fluttering beneath my palm.
Sometimes I wondered what it took to be part of the Inner Circle. Father said it was the highest honor—to serve the Lightdirectly. To go with him beyond the compound walls and have a say in decisions affecting the community.
Sister Jane’s voice broke through my thoughts. “And the Vessel? Should he meet this man again? What if heisa pretender and seeks to corrupt him? Can we risk that?”
There was a pause. My breath caught.
Then Father said, “Your imagination is too wild, Sister Jane. It will be fine. And if, by chance, the man says something untoward to Elior, my son will be forthright about it. He does not hide things from his father.”
“Father Malachi is right, Sister. We must place our trust in the Vessel. He would never fail us,” Brother Paul added.
“He seemed enamored by the Vessel during his visit. I could feel his awe at the Light. I believe Elior just may be the selling point for Jace.” As I listened to Father’s words, my chest pounded. Father thought Jace had been enamored—in awe of me? I felt my cheeks heat as a giddy feeling rose in me.
“But what if he’s one ofthose?” Sister Jane hissed.
“He is not,” Father barked.One of what?“Do not speak of such despicable things, Sister, or you will be the next to repent.”
Silence fell.
The meeting moved on after that, the talk turning to supplies, schedules, and other mundane things, never answering my question.
Eventually, I crept back to my room, closing the door softly behind me.
The air in my room had since cooled. I skipped lighting any of my candles or turning on the lamp, opting for the quiet dark. I sat back on the bed and drew my knees up, resting my chin there, trying to steady the strange beat of my thoughts.
The thought of Jace joining the Covenant made my chest ache with something I didn’t have a name for.
I lay back slowly, staring up at the dark beams of the ceiling. The boards creaked sometimes, like they were whispering secrets I couldn’t quite hear. Outside, the night insects sang, a low hum against the walls. Somewhere down the hall, a door closed, and a man’s voice murmured—Brother Gabriel’s, maybe—before the sound faded again.
I turned on my side, pulling the thin blanket close. The fabric brushed against my cheek, and I pressed my face into it, breathing slowly, trying to quiet my mind.
But it didn’t want to be quiet.
It wandered—to the chapel, to Father’s voice, to Jace.
The way Father had saidhe seemed enamored by the Vesselkept echoing. I didn’t know exactly whatenamoredmeant, but I knew it sounded… tender. It definitely sounded like a good thing, and even Father had seemed pleased when he’d said it.
It made me think of a conversation I’d overheard before, whispered by some of the younger girls when they thought no one was listening.
It had been last summer, behind the garden shed. I’d gone out to fetch the watering pails and heard them giggling—Lydia, Ruth, Abby, and Karolyn. They were plucking petals off a daisy, whispering excitedly about which of the older boys they’d marry if Father permitted. They used a word I’d never heard before, which I imagined had come from either Lydia or Ruth’s time from before their families had joined us.
Lydia had said, “I think I’ve got a crush on Silas,” and the others squealed and begged her to tell them why.
I’d stayed hidden, not because I wanted to eavesdrop, but because their laughter was so warm and lovely. I didn’t have much laughter in my world. And I knew if I’d revealed myself, even with good intentions, they’d cease laughing, bow their heads, and go silent. So I’d listened from my hiding spot, soaking up their happiness and fun.
Afterward, I’d asked Father what acrushwas. He’d frowned, asked where I’d heard it, and when I told him that I’d overheard some of the kids say it—telling him that I couldn’t remember who—he said, “It’s a foolish word the outside world uses to excuse impurity. You must never use it.”
I hadn’t since.
