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The mayor inched farther. He let go of the trunk but then grabbed it again when he teetered.

Almost losing her footing, Grace extended her arms and found her center.

“So, what was your plan? You had to have a plan. We were a thorn in your side, after all.” Grace thought for a moment, then laughed. “Willa! Of course. You brought in the Lerouxs and gifted them the fields you’d claimed for the town. Two ofthem, to replace my family’s yield. You were replacing us.” Grace laughed. “Only, you didn’t get what you bargained for with Willa Leroux. She defied youpublicly.”

The mayor rested his hand against the tree, not really holding on.

Grace smiled. “You mastered your own demise. Did you even know which option was worse? Keeping us or the Lerouxs?”

The mayor let out a primal shout. He didn’t shift his feet closer, but he leaned forward and set the branch wobbling. Grace flailed her arms a bit, aware that she couldn’t right herself this time.

She had to act now. She leaned into the movement of the branch, bent her knees, and launched herself toward another branch of the tree six feet above her. She heard and felt the branch beneath her crack, but focused entirely on her target. Her hands hit the branch, sending pain ricocheting through every bone and muscle in her arms and into her shoulders.

She gripped, but not well.

She heard the mayor’s cry of terror, and a second later a sickening thud, then silence.

Grace’s hands were slipping. She tried in vain to hold on.

Just before she lost her grip, she glimpsed a branch a little in front and beneath of her. She kicked her feet forward and released her hold. The motion sent her tumbling in a sort of spin. She desperately grabbed at the ends of the verdure cloak tucked into her waist band.

Her shoulder collided with the branch. The impact stung, but the cloak absorbed much of force. She bounced off and kept falling.

Tucking her feet in tightly, she struggled to pulled the flapping cloth around her.

Grace hit the ground, back first, followed by her hooded head. She blinked, vision blurry, breath gone, but she was alive. Sheinhaled with a desperate rasp. Her body ached from head to toe. She supposed that was a good sign. She wiggled her toes and fingers, then bent her knees and elbows just to make sure everything worked.

Groaning, she turned over onto her hands and knees and forced her sore muscles to push her to her feet.

The sight of the mayor soured her stomach, and she doubled over, expelling bile. As he’d fallen, his shirt had torn, revealing the extent of the gold’s warping destruction. She couldn’t bear to look at his broken body, but the image of iron grey edged in angry red skin spiraling around his arm from shoulder to elbow, down his right side, and nearly covering half his bent neck would stay with her forever.

Wiping her mouth, she forced herself to stay long enough to search the spot where she’d landed, and then her body, dress, and cloak for gold. She didn’t see any, even when she removed the cloak and checked the back of it where she’d landed.

She stumbled away and made her way out of the copse and toward town hall, groaning as she climbed over the fence. Just before she rounded the side of the building, someone called her name.

“Grace!”

“Garrick!” The relief she felt gave her new energy. She lumbered faster.

Garrick only took time to call out, “She’s here. I found her!” before sprinting to gather her in his arms.

Father and Mother joined them soon after, and Grace reluctantly broke from the embrace. They needed to know.

Grace pointed toward the center of the copse.

“The mayor, I followed him. I climbed a tree, and he came after me. And I… I made him fall.”

She shuddered, and Garrick’s arm tightened about her. She winced but tried not to let him see. The pain wasn’t too bad, andhis touch soothed her. She managed to warn her parents about the gold in the mayor’s personal quarters and explain more about the encounter, but eventually she couldn’t keep speaking without her legs giving out.

Mother and Father looked at one another.

“I’ll guard the copse,” Mother said, then to Father, “You call a meeting.”

Father nodded.

A meeting?Grace thought,With all that commotion?“What about the fight? Willa? Russell?”

Father grabbed her hand. “You’ve got a determined group of friends, fledgling.” He chuckled, though it sounded a bit hollow. “For a moment there, it felt like the old days.” He shook loose of the memories. “The Dahl’s have a room for you. Rest there.” Father turned and started back towards town square and the platform.