by Amber Argyle
Panic reared up inside her like a striking snake, its venom spilling out her pores. She let out a bloodcurdling scream. Startled, the man jumped back.
“Shh, Senna. Shh. I’m not going to hurt you.” He came at her with the knife.
She half sprang, half fell away from him. She screamed again.
Frustration plain on his face, he tossed the knife away. His hand closed over her mouth, cutting off her cries for help. She tried to bite, but he clamped her jaw closed.
She kicked and fought. All the times she’d been attacked before, all the times she’d been beaten and bound—all of it flashed in her memory as hot and harsh as lightning. She nearly choked on her sudden terror.
And then through her fear, she realized the man was whispering her name. “Senna. Shh, shh, Senna. Senna, shh. The knife was to stop the bleeding in my arm. I’d never hurt you. Shh.”
Then she remembered. Reden. Not her attacker. Her rescuer. How could she think he’d harm her? She went limp in his arms.
He slowly removed his hand. “Don’t scream again. All right? I don’t want anyone to know you’re here.”
Her head throbbed with each pulse of her heart. She cradled her head in her hands. “Why?”
Reden pushed himself to his feet. “Because I’m sure we lost your attacker. Right now, that’s your best defense.” She saw he wanted to help her up, but he was afraid to touch her. He cautiously held out his hand. “Senna, you have to know I’d never hurt you.”
She closed her eyes and tried to force her pounding heart to slow, to shove the panic back into whatever corner of her body it struck from. She started to nod, but stopped at the pain shooting across her skull. “I know. It’s just…”
Grimacing, Reden helped her back into the chair. “You don’t forget. You never forget. And with the bump on your head, you were confused.”
Reden would understand a person might live through a battle but carry the fear and terror with her for the rest of her life. Senna nodded.
“Drink your tea. And hold the compress to your bruise. Prenny supplied all the Guardians with them. They ought to be good.”
Senna dragged herself back into the chair. “Tea? When did you make tea? Or start a fire, for that matter.”
He poured himself a cup. “When you were out.”
She grunted. “If this is Timmus’ place, how do you know where everything is?”
Reden raised an eyebrow at her. “Inspections once a week. Discipline is the key of any army, and the Guardians are simply a very specialized army.”
Senna held the compress against her head and breathed deeply the strong smell of the herbs. “You were hit too?” She motioned to the blood crusting his head. He nodded and winced as if he regretted the movement.
Mindful of her unsettled stomach, she slowly sipped her tea. “Why didn’t you pass out?”
He grinned. “I have a harder head.” He unfastened his cloak and threw it in a corner.
She saw the blood staining his sleeve. “What happened?”
Reden grimaced as he tried to peer at the back of his arm. “He targeted me first. I pretended it knocked me out and waited. When he came at you, I fired my musket. Unfortunately, I missed. As I was drawing my pistol, he threw a knife. He’s got a wicked aim. I’ve no idea why I’m not dead.”
“I thought the Leader of the Guardians was a little busy to be watching me.”
He twisted the wick up on the lantern. The room brightened. He eased his shirt over his head and examined the nasty slash on his arm. He muttered curses in Tarten. “Collum’s sick. Joshen and Timpnee are gone with Arianis. Hesten and Deere already had their shift.”
Senna dropped her head. “I’m sorry for being so much trouble.”
Reden didn’t bother responding. His cut wasn’t long, but it was deep. She winced. Part of her training as an Apprentice had been the basic care of wounds. But the pig carcass she’d practiced on hadn’t been alive. “It will scar worse if you don’t have it stitched,” she said. “Nor will it heal as well.”
He gave her an odd look and gestured to his bare chest. “What’s one more?”
Her gaze traced the scars riddling his skin like the lines on a map. Beneath those scars, his body was hard and smooth, the body of a career soldier.
He took a bottle from a shelf and bit off the cork. Immediately the strong scent of alcohol flooded Senna’s nostrils. After taking three deep pulls, Reden tamped back the cork. “That ought to tame it.”
He gave her a pointed look before twisting the glass of the lantern up to expose the flame. He slid the blade inside.
She suddenly realized what he was planning. Her vision blurred again. “Oh, no. You’re not doing that.”
“If I cauterize it, I won’t need stitches.”
Senna felt like she was going to throw up again. “I’ll stitch it.”
He assessed her. “I don’t think you’re up to it.”
Feeling lightheaded, she rested her forehead on the heel of her hand. “Why not ask for help?”
“Because I don’t know who to trust.”
She stared at him. “What about the Heads?”
Reden sighed. “We have a traitor on the island—someone in a position of power.”
“How do you know?”
“I’ve been busy.”
By the Creators, she was nauseous. “And you think it’s one of the Heads?
He nodded. “It’s the only option that makes sense. No one else has the influence to force you to stay here, to let someone on the island, and to hide them for this long. Not to mention sending away two of your Guardians, including Joshen, and making the other sick. And at least one of my informants has been intercepted.”
Intercepted? Senna decided she didn’t want to know what that meant. She considered all of them. Coyel, Prenny, Chavis and Drenelle. Her eyes widened. “Not long before I was attacked, Drenelle took Joshen away and sent me off alone to gather pollen.”
Reden rubbed his chin. “Might mean something. Might not. Either way, you’re not safe here, and if Drenelle really is the traitor, she’ll never let you leave with me. I’m getting you out. Tonight.”
She gaped at him. She’d been bracing herself to escape alone. Now Reden was offering to help her. A tight knot of fear loosened in her stomach. “Tonight?”
He gestured to his knife, slowly turning black from the smoke. “Cauterizing is faster.”
The idea of sizzling flesh sent her head spinning again. “How are you getting me out?”
He spoke with cold detachment. “I’m going to order the Guard at the entrance to stand down. Then you’re going to sing us out.”
She was not going to throw up again. She wasn’t. “And if he doesn’t stand down?”
“Then I will incapacitate him.”
She took a calming breath. “And then?”
Reden wiped his sweaty forehead with the back of his hand. “You’ve already been preparing to go to Tarten.”
How many spies did he have on the island? Through fits and starts, she told him her plan. To go to Tarten and lift part of the curse. Find Espen and unearth the secret of these foreign Witches who threatened Haven.
Reden listened, occasionally asking questions. When he was satisfied, he sat back. “We’ll need supplies.”
She shook her head. “Joshen—”
Reden used the blade to gesture towards Nefalie. “Is in Corrieth. We’ll find him there.”
Senna closed her eyes. “No. I meant we can’t take him with us. He’ll try to stop me.”
Reden studied her. “You’re sure?”
She took a steadying breath. “Very sure.”
He gave a curt nod. “Then we won’t bring him.”
Just as simple as that, she’d abandon the only family she had left, and her betrothed. Haven wasn’t perfect, but it was the only home she’d ever been willing to fight for. If they banished her, she’d never be able to come back. “I’m not sure I can leave everything behind.”
“I
f you’re right, there might not be anything to return to.”
She bit her lip and pushed the thought aside. “They’ll banish us both. You know they will.”
His silence was answer enough. He wiped the scorch marks off his knife with a clean cloth and held the hot blade to his skin, his face set.
“Just stop!”
He looked at her with forced patience. “When we have everything settled, we can send for your mother and Joshen if you like.”
She shuddered. “I can’t go yet. There are potions and seeds I need.”
Reden worked his jaw, but he would know how important those items were. “Can you get them tonight?” he asked.
“The only person who has all of them is Prenny. The Witches are all over her house harvesting chesli tonight.” Senna tried not to wince. She’d stolen from Prenny before. She hated the thought of doing it again.
Reden finally lowered the knife. “How soon can you be ready?”
Senna sagged in relief. “Tomorrow is the second evening of the harvest. Everyone will have moved on to another part of the island. It should be safe to sneak in then. I can steal the potions and we can slip away.”
Reden slumped in his chair, clearly unhappy but resigned. “Very well. But only one more day. Whoever’s after you isn’t going to give up. We need to get out.”
Going to the shelf he indicated, she pulled down plants and potions she recognized. She poured salt water on Reden’s wound and wiped off the blood. The cut was clean, so it wouldn’t be hard to stitch, but touching him like this…it felt too intimate. “What will everyone think?”
“I imagine the Heads will think you’ve run off to save Tarten, which is partly true. Some might think we ran away together.” He showed no emotions at that.
Senna blushed and busied herself heating a needle over the flame.
Reden bit off the cork and took another pull.
“I can give you something stronger than whiskey,” she said.
“I need my wits about me.”
Her hands shaking, Senna closed the wound with five stitches. Sweat beaded on Reden’s face, and his muscles stood out, but he didn’t move or make a sound. Feeling sick, she wrapped the wound. Then she drooped in her chair and downed her tea in one swallow.
She eyed Reden’s whiskey, but figured her stomach wouldn’t be able to handle it. Not yet anyway. Standing on shaky legs, she said, “I’m tired. Take me home.”
Reden tossed his bloody shirt in a bucket of water. “No. You’re safer in the midst of Guardians. With me right outside your door.”
Not safe on Haven. She still couldn’t fathom it. “What about my mother?”
His expression remained neutral. “This isn’t the first time you’ve been out all night.”
Another blush burned up her cheeks. She really shouldn’t be surprised at Reden’s statement. He had just admitted to having his own spies on the island. Perhaps one had even spied on her. She considered telling him that nothing had happened, but that was not a conversation she wanted to have. Ever. Especially not with Reden. “She probably knows Joshen left.”
Reden drummed his fingers on the table then rose abruptly. “Is that pistol loaded?” She nodded. “Bolt the door after me.”
She rose on shaky feet and followed him. “What are you going to do?”
“I’ll send one of my Guardians to inform Sacra you are well but won’t be coming home.”
Senna folded her arms around her middle. “She won’t like that.”
He opened the door. “Bolt it.”
After securing it, she waited for some of the longest moments of her life. Reden’s whisper at the door nearly made her jump out of her boots. She let him in.
“There’s a bed upstairs,” he said. “Take it. I’ll sleep just outside your door.”
Senna opened her mouth to protest, but she couldn’t find the energy. She lifted her skirts and started up the stairs. She chose the room that was obviously unused. The last thing she did before going to bed was shove the back of a chair under the doorknob.
13. A Witch’s Burden
Senna woke to the sound of someone pounding on the front door; its echoes vibrated painfully inside her skull. Squinting, she peered out the window. It was bright daylight outside. How long had she slept?
After moving the chair that was propped under the bedroom door, she eased into the hallway and padded to the top of the stairs.
“What do you mean she’s here?” Joshen’s voice was angry.
“She was attacked. If I hadn’t stopped them, they’d have taken her by now.”
“What!”
“Keep your voice down,” Reden hissed. “She’s all right.”
Senna lay at the top of the stairs and peered below.
“You have to let me see her!” Joshen pulled his hand through his dark hair. “Please, Reden. We had a misunderstanding. Let me talk to her.”
Reden physically blocked him. “No. She’s fine. I just checked on her a moment ago. She needs her rest.”
“Fine, I won’t wake her. I’ll just see for myself.” Joshen tried to slip past him.
Reden matched him. “What kind of misunderstanding?”
Joshen blew out. “Things have become…complicated lately. If we could just talk like we used to.”
Reden shook his head. “She’s sleeping off a concussion. That’s more important than you saying hello.”
Joshen worked his jaw before nodding slowly. “I have to give my report to the Heads. You’ll tell her I stopped by? Send someone to tell me she’s awake?”
Reden nodded. “If she wants to see you.”
Joshen’s face fell.
Senna considered calling out to him, but she was still so tired. Silently, she backed into her room. She fell on her bed, grateful classes were cancelled the week of the chesli harvest, and went back to sleep. She awoke the second time to a hollow ache in her middle and her head pounding in rhythm to her heart. She could feel the sticky heat of midafternoon.
Not sure if she’d have time to visit the bathing pools, she did the best she could with a water basin and a wet rag. Finished, she tugged her tangled hair into a messy braid to hide the lump on the back of her head.
When she came downstairs, Reden was in the kitchen. He handed her an orange and a cup of tea. She breathed in the aroma, easily recognizing the herbs that would help with pain and swelling. After adding enough milk to make the tea lukewarm, she gulped it down.
“Joshen was looking for you earlier.”
Senna poured herself another cup of tea and rolled the orange around in her hands. “I heard.”
Reden nodded once, clearly uncomfortable. “He knows you were attacked last night—it’ll bring him around to getting you out.”
She hesitated. “Well, I suppose if we don’t tell him the rest—about Tarten—until after we leave.” She felt suddenly lighter. Joshen would be coming with them. She wouldn’t have to leave everyone behind. “Maybe the Heads will think Joshen and I just eloped. Then they won’t be watching for me to subvert their curse.”
“If you were going to elope, why would I come along?”
She sighed. “If they guess the truth—which they probably will—they’ll try to stop me, even from a distance.”
“Will they succeed?”
She shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not. It depends on how much of the curse I can heal.” She waited for Reden to demand that she explain exactly what she could do. When he didn’t, her voice dropped to a whisper. “Aren’t you going to ask?”
“You’ll do the best you can. Nothing I do or say will change that.”
Senna peeled away the rind and lifted a section of the orange to her mouth. She almost felt like smiling. This time tomorrow, she would be fighting back instead of bumbling about waiting for someone to take another shot at abducting her. “I’ll gather the supplies I need and wrap up my unfinished business. Then we can go.”
A Guardian she vaguely recognized was waiting for her outside. He nodded by
way of greeting. “Brusenna.”
Reden touched her arm. “This is Hesten. He’s one of the few in your personal detail. I trust him with this. Our muskets are primed. I’ll go on ahead. Hesten will bring up the rear. I already checked your pistol, and your knife is within reach.”
Feeling her stomach twisting around her breakfast, Senna nodded. “I have my seeds as well.”
“Whichever weapon you need.” Reden searched the trees with his eyes. “You’re as safe as I can make you while you’re here. But be careful.”
She left with the smell of oranges on her fingers and a slice of rich, nutty bread that she no longer had the stomach for.
Her mother opened the door with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. Judging by the dark circles under her eyes, she’d been up most of the night. She eyed the Guardians behind Senna suspiciously. “Where have you been?”
Instead of answering, Senna stepped inside and closed the door to her Guardians. “I want the truth. What happened to my father and sister?”
Her mother blanched. She wandered to her chair and sat on the edge. “A Guardian found me last night and told me you were safe but not coming home. Does this have something to do with Joshen?”
No. Joshen is gone. All we seem to do is fight, and I don’t know how to fix it. “They died when you were pregnant with me. I’ve seen the drawings of them in your money box. That’s all I know of them.”
Like the sun and moon, their conversations circled around each other without ever touching. “You won’t leave this cursed island with me, and yet you’d risk everything you gain by staying—your Apprenticeship, your place in Haven, your shining future—all for a boy. What are you doing, Senna?”
I may have already lost him. Refusing to be distracted, Senna sat in the other chair. “Is that what you think happened when you married my father? That because you married him, you lost everything?”
Sacra finally looked in Senna’s eyes.
“I won’t stop asking,” Senna said.
After a long silence, her mother said, “A man in town brought me those sketches after they died.” She looked away. “He drew your father’s nose wrong. And Arelle’s eyes. I remember thinking that when he gave them to me. But now, when I picture my daughter and husband, I see them how he drew them.”