Prayer Time

The chalk circle makes Jennee's knees itch through her nightrobe. The purple one with unicorns that she picked out herself even though Priest-Mother said the unicorns looked "too worldly." She makes her hands into a prayer-point like she's supposed to and squeezes her eyes shut real tight.

"Um, hi. It's me again. Jennee. Thank you for the honey cakes today even though mine fell on the floor and got fuzzy stuff on it."

She peeks one eye open to make sure nobody's watching. Then closes it again fast.

"And please bless Priest-Mother and Father-Ward and Grand-Magus Ruth and my stuffed dragon even though his wing is ripped and... oh! Bless the Window Woman who lives in the red house at the end of our street because I saw her crying into her scrying bowl and crying makes me sad."

From the doorway, Priest-Mother makes a little sound. Like when you step on something sharp.

"And bless the three kids from the West Circle who keep looking at our house through the fence. I think they're cold because their cloaks look thin and one of them doesn't have mittens and yesterday one gave me a sugar crystal and said it wasn't cursed just sweet."

"Jennee."

But she's not done yet. There's more people who need blessing.

"And bless the chalk-man who sleeps by the old potion shop because he doesn't have a house and he draws pictures on the ground that glow and they're really pretty even if they make the flowers make scary noises."

"Jennee Thorne."

Uh oh. Both names means stop right now. But she can't stop because there's still more.

"And bless Marcus even though his dads never wave back when we wave at them. Marcus is nice and he helped me carry my spell-book when it got too heavy and his familiar is a cat named Wizard who sneezes sparkles and it's really funny and—"

"Stop."

The word bounces off the circle walls. Jennee's eyes pop open. Priest-Mother is standing there with her arms crossed and her face looks like when the milk goes bad.

"I wasn't finished—"

"Yes you were." Priest-Mother steps into the prayer circle and her shadow stretches long and pointy. "You don't pray for those halo-born burnkins."

"What's halo-born?" Jennee's tummy starts feeling wobbly. "I was just being nice."

"The woman in the red house cursed our garden last winter. The West Circle children sent hex-birds to nest in our roof. The chalk-man draws rot-spells on the sidewalk."

Jennee scrunches up her face. "But they just looked sad. And Marcus gave me a sticker with a baby dragon on it."

"Marcus's family poisoned our well water. With blessing salts."

Jennee's mouth falls open. "But he's my friend. He showed me how to make paper birds that actually fly."

"Stand up."

Jennee doesn't want to stand up. She wants to keep praying. She wants to tell the Shadekeeper about all the people who looked lonely. But Priest-Mother's voice sounds scary so she gets up.

"You will not speak their names in sacred space again. You will use the Prayer Book. The real prayers for real people."

"But the Prayer Book doesn't have them in it," Jennee says quietly. "And I think maybe they need prayers more because they look sadder."

"Because they chose to be seen instead of safe and light breaks things, Jennee. That’s what it’s always done. That’s what it did to them."

Jennee's eyes get hot and burny. "But I thought the Shadekeeper loves everybody. You said that. Lots of times."

"The Shadekeeper loves everyone who remembers how to be unseen. The others..." Priest-Mother stops and makes a big sighing sound. "The others are dangerous. To us. To you."

"But I just wanted to help—"

"You help by following the rules. By praying correctly. By not inviting that illuminated glory into our sacred space."

"I didn't invite anything! I just said please bless them!"

"Blessing halo-born is the same as bringing The Creeping Dawn directly into our home. Do you want that in your bedroom? Do you want the dawn to find you, Jennee?"

Jennee shakes her head fast. You weren't meant to feel the Dawn. Not unless it meant to keep you.

"From now on, you use the Prayer Book. Only the Prayer Book. No more making up prayers for dangerous people."

"But what if—"

"No." Priest-Mother walks to the door really fast. "You're grounded from personal prayer until you learn what's safe to say."

She waves her hand and the chalk circle disappears with a little hissing sound. Then she flips the ward-switch and all the protection lights go out.

"Wait! You forgot my night-flame!"