Apparently oblivious, Arianis set her jaw. “I didn’t hurt him.”
Again, Senna had to tamp down her anger. Joshen knew nearly all Senna’s secrets. And now so did Arianis. “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t shove Bindweed down your throat and let you molder like the worthless lump you are.”
Arianis had the good sense to blanch. “The Heads would imprison you until you freed me and then banish you from the island.”
Fury burned so bright and hot in Senna that she had a hard time forming words. Finally, she said, “I’ve fought Witch Hunters. Crossed an ocean while blinded by fog. I’ve been shot and born the weight of men dying for me. Faced the Dark Witch alone. I’ve seen the Creators’ faces.
“I’m not afraid of you, Arianis. And you have no idea how dangerous an enemy I can be.”
Fear finally touched Arianis. “The Heads recommended Joshen as my Guardian.”
Of course. They wanted to keep Senna and Joshen apart. What better way than to send him away? “Joshen, get me out of here before I do something I can’t take back.”
He obeyed the command without hesitation, laying a hand on her shoulder. His touch spread through her, cooling her anger. Shaking, she let him lead her from the tree house.
“I have chosen Joshen as my Guardian,” Arianis cried out. “He will accompany me or be released from his Guardianship. Is that what you want, Senna?”
Joshen’s grip tightened on Senna’s shoulder. “I’ll talk to Reden. He’ll straighten this out.”
Senna didn’t think there was anything Reden could do. The Heads outranked him. Still, she kept walking.
“I’ll tell them about Espen,” Arianis called after them.
Senna caught sight of Collum, watching from his position half hidden beside a tree.
“Collum, shut her up,” Joshen ordered. “I’ve got Senna for tonight.”
Collum nodded once and strode toward Arianis.
“Do you know he feels trapped here?” Arianis struggled against Collum. “That he longs for adventure, for horses and the open sea? That he has every intention of stopping you if you try to leave the island?”
Joshen whirled around, his hand automatically straying toward his musket. “You’re twisting what I said!”
Collum shut the door to any more of Arianis’ poisonous words.
Senna studied Joshen, sadness smothering her anger. “But they were your words.” He tugged her along. She barely felt her hand in his. “Is it true?”
Joshen’s mouth tightened, but the potion compelled him to answer. “I miss my horses. I miss Parknel and the crew. Sometimes I feel as if these walls are a cage.”
“And I your captor?”
He spun her to face him. “No.”
She knew he spoke the truth. The potion wouldn’t allow a lie, unless that person was lying to himself. The thought made her bite her lip. “Would you try to stop me from leaving?”
He swallowed, and Senna could tell he was trying not to answer. Betrayal wrapped cold, steel hands around her heart, freezing her from the inside out. Hugging herself, she brushed past him and started for the clearing.
In two of his long strides he was beside her, his eyes bulging with the effort of keeping the truth behind his lips.
Despite her anger, she couldn’t help feeling a little sorry for him. This wasn’t his fault. Not entirely. Perhaps not at all. “You can’t fight it, Joshen. The potion is too strong.”
“Yes!” he blurted. “It’s my job to protect you.”
His words were like a blow to her stomach. “If you couldn’t stop me, would you tell the Heads?”
“Probably.” She closed her eyes.
The one person in the world Senna had relied on, and he would betray her to keep her safe and useless. She couldn’t trust him with any more of her secrets. Maybe her mother was right. “If you’re not strong enough without Joshen, you’ll never be strong enough with him,” she had said.
He rubbed his forehead. “I’m sorry, but I don’t care about the Tartens or some foreign Witches as much as I care about you.”
He was so tall she had to crane her neck to look at him. “It doesn’t really matter. If Arianis tells the Heads about my meeting with Espen, they’ll never trust me again. I can’t risk it.”
He tensed. “What are you saying?”
“You have to go with her. She made sure of that.”
His shoulders tensed. “How do you know she won’t tell them anyway?”
“I don’t. But Arianis crossed a line when she questioned you about me. She would get in trouble too. I think this is just her way of taking something away from me, just like I took something away from her.”
Joshen’s departure with Arianis would give Senna the chance she needed to escape. But could she really abandon him? Did she have a choice?
He shook his head. “I don’t want to leave you.”
“I know.” And she did. “It’s a risk we’ll have to take. Besides, it will only be for a couple days. There will be plenty of boats and something besides fish and greens to eat. And you’ll have a chance to ride your horses again.”
He hesitated. “Senna…”
She smiled, trying to show him she wasn’t afraid. She noticed a Witch coming down the path toward them and dropped her voice. “You will go.”
Still under the influence of the Truth Serum, he nodded slowly, painfully. “We’re to find a glass blower who will agree to work on the island. I’ll be back in a day, two at the most.”
Guilt pricked Senna’s insides. She hated to use a potion to deceive and trick him as Arianis had, hated that their relationship had come to this.
She moved aside to let the Witch pass. But instead of continuing on, the Witch blocked their path. Senna stopped short, surprised that this wasn’t just any Witch. It was Drenelle, her face tight with anger. “You Guardians didn’t do a proper job boarding my windows. A bat has found its way inside my tree house.” When Joshen hesitated, she made a shooing motion in the direction of her tree. “Well, go on!”
He opened his mouth to protest. Senna overrode him. “Joshen, go. I’ll be fine.” She’d nearly reached the clearing where the Witches were to meet before beginning the harvest, not to mention the fact that she was armed with a pistol and knife.
Joshen strode toward the tree house without a second thought; immediate obedience of a direct command was another side effect of the Truth Serum.
How long would it be before Senna saw him again? She bit her fist to keep her emotions in check. She didn’t want Joshen to see how upset she was and become suspicious.
Drenelle rounded on Senna and jabbed her finger into her chest. “And Apprentices aren’t to spend time with the Guardians.” Drenelle suddenly froze and stared at the hollow of Senna’s throat.
Anger burning up her hurt, Senna backed away.
Drenelle matched her movement. Her hand shot out, catching Senna’s crescent pendant. She tipped the stone to catch the light coming from one of the windows. “When and where did you get this?”
Senna snatched her necklace back. “I bought it at the Gonstower market years ago.”
The woman’s gaze never left the necklace. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say that was the real one.”
Senna’s anger was replaced with confusion. “Real one?”
Drenelle’s gaze bored into the pendant. “Amber is the most powerful of stones. Wind and sunlight hardens the living blood of trees—plants—and earth turns it to stone. Thus all Four Sisters are part of amber. Only a handful of Witches—the smallest of handfuls—could manipulate it to function like a potion. The knowledge of how it is done was lost long ago.”
Drenelle’s fingers trembled as if itching to examine Senna’s pendant. “There are only five women who succeeded in making a Song Pendant. I’ve searched for decades and would give anything to own one, to unravel the mystery of how they were made.” She laughed, but it sounded forced. “It’s a very convincing replica. But of course, you couldn’t have bought
the genuine one at a cheap market. Besides, this particular Song Pendant came as a pair.”
Senna had to resist the urge to cover her pendant with her hand. What Drenelle didn’t know was Joshen had the other half under his shirt while he chased a bat around her house. Senna smiled tightly. No doubt she wore a Song Pendant, and Drenelle would find a way to take it if she knew. “I hope you find one.” Of your own.
Senna started toward the others she could hear milling just beyond her sight. She felt Drenelle’s eyes boring into her back. “Don’t you want to know what it was called?”
Senna pasted an innocent look on her face and turned around. “What what was called?”
Drenelle’s eyes tightened. She looked pointedly at the pendant around Senna’s neck. “It was the Lilette Stone. And it allowed whoever wore it to find the person wearing its mate.”
The Lilette Stone. Senna’s mouth nearly fell open, but she kept herself in check. If she showed any reaction, Drenelle would grow suspicious. Suspicion would lead to questions. Questions would lead to testing the stone. And then Senna would lose her pendant.
She wasn’t going to give it up. Not after the Witch Hunter, Wardof, had used it to track her down and nearly kill her. If anyone had paid for this pendant, it was her. “I just thought it was pretty.”
That seemed to convince Drenelle. The Head grunted. “Yes, well, it’s nearly full dark. Get to the Ring of Power. It’s the eve of the chesli harvest.”
Senna backed away. “Yes, Head Drenelle.” She pivoted, then jogged toward the clearing, her heart thumping painfully in her chest.
12. Chesli Harvest
The vines of the chesli plants twined partway up the trees. Only visible on a moonless night, the flower’s fuzzy, pollen-scattered centers glowed golden. Moths and insects of a hundred varieties flitted anxiously from one flower to the next, lugging glowing pollen that dusted the air like a thousand falling stars. Witches surrounded Senna and Mistin, their skin smudged and streaked with glimmering bits.
“Why are we doing this?” Mistin asked.
Sometimes Senna forgot Mistin was even newer to Haven than she was. “Because the chesli only blooms for a few nights a year, during mid-summer’s dark phase of the moon. Their pollen increases a potion’s shelf life exponentially without altering the potion’s properties—it’s a catalyst.”
With a wince, Mistin rolled her shoulders. “Why can’t we gather it during the day?”
Senna sighed. “Because the flowers close during the day.”
“We could pry them open,” Mistin grumbled.
“They’re too delicate. It would kill them and there’d be no seed, and therefore no flowers next year.” Senna gathered pollen by brushing a fuzzy cloth inside the flower. After the cloth was full, she shook it off inside a glass jar and went back for more. “Did I ever thank you for warning me?”
Mistin smiled a little. “You’re welcome.”
Soft trails of light following them, moths competed with Senna for the flowers as they bumped dumbly from one to the next. Her hands were brushed by wings that added their soft powder to her skin. To Senna’s surprise, she heard the flower’s music. They were calling for the moths, songs that seemed to paint the night with colors of light. The melody was so gentle and full of longing, she forgot about her own heartache and hummed along.
By unspoken agreement, she and Mistin worked steadily away from the others. Soon Senna’s skin glowed bright enough that the moths bumped into her as frequently as they did the flowers. As a general rule, she hated bugs. But these moths were so beautiful they didn’t really count. They were more like tiny, delicate birds than insects.
A soft touch startled her. She looked down to see a moth skimming along her palm. Another landed on her wrist. She brought the insect close, studying the intricate patterns on its wings. A third moth clung to Senna’s smallest finger, its tiny legs tickling so she had to fight to keep from wiggling and scaring the moths away.
She froze and let the moths come. They coated her hands, their wings working as they fought each other to get ever closer. Soon, her hands were covered in moths like living mittens. She must have some in her hair too, because they flitted next to her face, climbing the tendrils of her hair like vines.
She was so caught up with the moths that Mistin’s voice startled her. “Do they normally do that?”
“They’re lost without the moon,” Senna whispered so as not to frighten them.
Mistin was breathing hard. “Shake them off.”
But Senna didn’t want to startle them. So instead, she sang.
Off with thee, off with thee, off in the night.
Fly for the moon and stars so bright.
The music around her fell in harmony with her song, and the moths sprang away from her hands in an explosion of wings. In moments, they were again flitting from flower to flower in mass confusion. None came back to Senna. Her hands still tickling with the memory of their clinging legs, she watched the moths.
Her smile faded when she saw Mistin gaping at her. “Senna, you’re shining.”
Senna looked down at herself and she was shocked to discover it was true. It wasn’t just the pollen and the dust from moth wings. Away from the lantern light, her skin shimmered softly. “That must be why the moths came. They were attracted to the light.”
“But why are you shining?” Mistin’s voice was tinged with fear.
Senna shook her head in disbelief. “It must be the pollen.”
Mistin blinked a few times. “Maybe.”
Senna flicked her hands, trying to shake off whatever must be on her skin.
Mistin wet her lips. “I’m going to work my way back.”
A hollow sadness filled Senna as she watched the closest thing she had to a friend disappear. She slumped down amid the flowers and tried to force the tears back down her throat. She didn’t cry anymore. She was past that. She was so absorbed in not crying that at first she didn’t notice the whirring sound around her.
Something crashed. She jumped to her feet and looked around. “Hello?”
Relieved she had a Guardian assigned to her, she called, “Um, whoever’s watching over me, will you come out? Please?” Heavy silence answered her.
Fear spreading through her veins, Senna backed up. “Hello?” This time there was an answer: a steady whirring noise.
“Senna! Drop!”
Reaching for the pistol Joshen had given her, Senna spun around. Reden sprinted towards her, his musket at his side, blood running down his face. Her mind registered the whirring noise. She’d heard it before. A sling. By then it was too late.
The stone connected with the side of her head. There was no pain, only an explosion of pure white light. She was on the ground, her ears ringing and her senses dull.
Senna was only vaguely aware of someone kneeling over her, then hands gripping her under her arms and dragging her away. Blackness curled in from the outsides of her vision. She fought to stay conscious.
Reden shouting again. The unmistakable sound of musket fire. A blur of movement from her attacker. An answering hiss of pain from Reden.
Then Reden was there. He crouched protectively over her, his eyes raking the trees as he poured powder into his musket. “Senna?”
She didn’t answer. Mostly because she couldn’t drudge up the energy.
“Senna!”
“What?” she tried to say, but it came out as more of an incomprehensible mumble. Her head felt like a watermelon dropped from a cliff. It didn’t hurt so much as just felt…scrambled.
Reden gripped her arm and helped her up. “Can you stand?”
Her legs refused to bear weight. He caught her as she fell and draped her over his shoulder. Then he started running. The jarring motion caused her to lose her battle with the blackness. She passed in and out of consciousness. At one point Reden went off the path, running through the foliage. Plants slapped Senna as they went past. The next time she woke, they were on the path again. She didn’t understand.
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Finally, Reden eased her down to the ground and braced her against him. He pulled her hood over her face like he was hiding her. His breath came in short bursts and sweat rolled down the sides of his face. He didn’t bother brushing it away. “I need you to walk, Senna. I can’t hide us here.”
Why? She tried to respond, but her mouth still wouldn’t work.
She forced herself to push one foot in front of the other, swaying as if she were drunk. Her focus was slowly coming back. She climbed up a set of steps almost by herself. Why hadn’t Reden wanted anyone to see them? Why was he running away from help instead of towards it? She glanced around. They were in the Guardian quarter of the island, but she didn’t recognize the tree.
“Where are we?” Just forming words felt like a triumph.
He checked the door to the tree house, sighing in obvious relief when it slid open. “This is Timmus’ place—he’s gone with Joshen. We ought to be all right here.”
She looked at Reden. His expression was harsh—almost a grimace. He eased her into a chair and then hurried to bolt the door. Senna noticed a steady dripping. She followed the sound to see drops of blood falling from Reden’s fingers and scattering across the floor like jewels.
She came to her feet, determined to help him.
In two steps he was in front of her. “Sit down.”
She was suddenly nauseous. Her mouth started watering uncontrollably. “I’m going to throw up.”
Reden practically carried her to the dry sink.
She retched. He gripped her as if he expected her to fall at any moment. She was too miserable to be embarrassed.
When she finished, he guided her to a chair. She was hot and cold at the same time. He crouched before her and pulled her eyelids open. He stared cursing in Tarten. “Slings can kill a man. If I ever find the dung licker that hit you, I’ll show him firsthand.”
She almost snorted at the sound of Joshen’s favorite curse word on Reden’s tongue.
“Your eyes are fine,” the Guardian said.
He moved to a shelf. Questions collided with the doubts and fears swirling in Senna’s mind, but she couldn’t make herself care. She tipped her head back against the wall. She must have passed out again. When she opened her eyes, all she saw was a man standing before her with a knife.