Giftless

Chapter One

"You have no gift, you can't come." A hush rolled across the converted church. The entire village, around eighty people, were queued behind me. Feet stopped their shuffling, the murmurs were gone. A stifling quiet followed, the kind that comes with a large group withholding the same breath.

All eyes turned to me, the giftless girl.

"You could have said that earlier," I replied, voice quiet and unsteady. Even an hour before, she could have tracked me down and told me to remain in my room. Why wait until now, when I had finished the alterations on my ivory dress and painstakingly twisted my dull, dishwater hair into an elaborate braided bun? Our small community had known about this ball for months and I was inches from walking into it, waiting before an arched doorway, etched with runes. It stood where the altar should have been, looking like a mirror, rather than a portal across lands and oceans. Impatience was building in those lined up with me. I could feel their anticipation, for I felt it too.

Tonight was meant to be a celebration, a time to mark fifteen years of peace between the Light and Dark magic wielders. And I couldn't go.

"I had better things to do," said Erin, as cold as the ice she could so easily conjure. It was her favourite element. She had straight, white hair and severe frown lines that dragged at her mouth. I had never seen her smile, at least, not at me. "You are not a priority, Vanessa," she said. "Do you expect me to run around after you, rather than keep our entire community safe?"

I swallowed. "No, ma'am."

It was Erin and her elite who protected the perimeter, who monitored the enchantments that hid our small village, Saltcombe, from the outside world – and from the Dark Wielders. No one with a mark on their wrist had found their way to into a Light Wielder's refuge for centuries. It was all thanks to our high level security. We had only recently gotten the internet and even that was regulated. I didn't have permission to use it, for it was a privilege given to those who had excelled in their gifts. I didn't have a gift, so I didn't have anything to excel at.

And now I wasn't even allowed to attend the Treaty Ball.

Was this what Cinderella had felt like, when she had been forbidden from attending the prince's party? As though she were screaming into a void that didn't care and wouldn't answer. Only I didn't have a fairy-godmother to save me. I had Ian. As I ducked my head down, eyes blurry, he caught my arm, stopping me from running home, slamming the door and never coming back out.

"Are you serious?" Ian was the only one who ever stood up to Erin. His blond hair was tidy for a change and he wore a crisp white suit. We all wore white. Whereas I seemed plain in comparison, he shone. A trick, an illusion he had conjured across the material.

"It's fine," I mumbled, heat rising to my face. "It's my fault, for..."

For thinking I was included, for once.

I should have known better. It had been hard, growing up these seventeen years with the Light Wielders and their perfect morals and strict rules. They valued hard work, a team structure, and everyone pulling their weight. I couldn't do that. Without a gift, I had no role here, in their community. I was a hanger-on. All I could do was work in our small library, in this very room, logging who loaned books and chasing those who had yet to return them. It was an easy task; no one read much here, aside from me. I liked the humdrum books, about people with no abilities, who still managed to save the day. I wish I'd been born with them.

Not for the first time, I thought about leaving Saltcombe. To live with those who thought magic belonged in storybooks and was not an innate ability for many people across the world.