by Amber Argyle
Senna waited for her to continue, but she just remained silent and staring. “Mother, they were my family. I deserve to know what happened to them. Please.”
Twin tears leaked out of Sacra’s eyes. “It was my fault. Espen was hunting us down, one at a time. Men weren’t allowed on the island, so your father and your sister were in Nefalie. I slipped away from Haven to tell him I was expecting another baby. He was terrified for me. He begged me to go into hiding with him. But I was a Discipline Head, and the Sisters needed me desperately. “So I left him with your sister and returned.”
Senna considered her own future. Duty and family. How did one balance a life where both needed her, but only one’s needs could be met?
A sob clawed its way out of Sacra’s body. Senna leaned forward and covered her mother’s clenched hands with her own.
“The Witch Hunters found them instead of me,” Sacra went on. “I was here when I heard. On this cursed island, safe, while my family was in danger. Doing my duty while my daughter and husband were murdered in my place.”
Senna closed her eyes, imagining how her mother must have been once—ambitious, beautiful, confident. Senna slid off the chair to kneel before her. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“No?” Her mother’s voice was low. “I chose being a Witch over being a mother. It was a choice I’d made a hundred times. But this time, I was needed. And I wasn’t there.”
She sniffed and wiped her eyes. “I see you making the same mistakes I did. Sacrificing everything for the Witches, for a boy who loves you. And if it’s all taken away, what will you do then?”
Senna almost decided she couldn’t risk going to Tarten. Maybe she should just go into hiding until this was all over. It’s what her mother had done, though too late to save her father and sister. But Senna’s very soul balked at existing in ignorance and fear ever again. She’d been living with doing nothing for weeks, and it was destroying her. “I’ll be glad I ever had them at all.”
“If you die, what will I do?” Sacra’s voice cracked.
Could Senna ask her mother to live with that? It would break her. She searched her face. “Promise you’ll release this burden you’ve carried for so long. Promise me that you’ll find a way to be happy.”
Sacra lifted her shoulders in a helpless gesture. “I’ve carried it so long it’s become a part of me.”
“Then unmake that part of you!”
Sacra grunted. “I’ll—I’ll try. If you promise to live through all this.”
Senna wrapped her arms around her mother’s rounded shoulders and pressed her dry cheek against her mother’s wet one. “I promise to try.” How could she say goodbye? How could she make her mother understand she had to go? That she wasn’t repeating the same mistakes, because they’d never been mistakes. They were choices, the best choices she could make with the knowledge she’d had. “Perhaps I’m more like you than I know. I’m glad for it.”
Her mother groaned as if the words pained her. “I hope you’re better.”
Senna kissed her mother’s cheek. It tasted salty. “I love you.”
Sacra tried to smile. “And I you.”
Senna could tell her mother’s thoughts were far away. That was probably a good thing. If she were paying attention, she might realize Senna was trying to say goodbye.
Senna went to her room and gathered her things in her battered satchel. Then she refilled her seed belt and wrapped it around her waist. Back downstairs, she paused at the door. “The chesli harvest will start soon.”
Her mother waved her on. “You go on without me. I’ll be along eventually.”
For the first time, Senna understood why her mother had hidden her away in the hell that was Gonstower. Had kept her ignorant and alone. And Senna forgave her for it, as she hoped her mother would forgive her for putting her heart at risk of being shattered, this time so badly she could never put it back together.
14. Thievery
Reden, Hesten, and Senna cut through air thick with shimmering bits of pollen. Heavier pieces fell around them like mist, touching the edges of their clothes with luminosity.
Senna threw occasional glances at her arms, checking to make sure she wasn’t glowing again. To her relief, her skin remained dull, except for the shining specks sticking to the tiny hairs on her arms.
Prenny’s tree house was in sight. Not much farther and Senna would slip inside while the Guardians kept watch. Then they would take one of the boats and escape into the night.
Of course, it was never that simple.
“Brusenna?”
Startled, she looked up to see Prenny pulling her door shut behind her, a freshly refilled lantern in hand. “You don’t have a lick of pollen on your hands. Do you think you’re above working in the fields now?” Prenny turned on Reden before Senna could respond. “And you two? If you’ve nothing else to do, I need some help reaching the higher plants.” She latched onto Reden’s injured arm.
His face tightened with pain, but he didn’t pull away. “We’ve work to do, Head.”
“At this hour of the night? Not likely. Besides, no work is more important than the chesli harvest. You two will come with me.” She looked over her shoulder. “Keep up, Senna.” Within moments, they were in the midst of the Witches again.
“Get to work,” Prenny said to Senna as she caught an older Apprentice’s attention. “Dorri, don’t let her out of your sight.”
Reden glanced at Senna, and she saw the indecision in his face. He didn’t want to leave her alone or delay their escape, but he didn’t want to raise Prenny’s suspicions, either. “Don’t go off by yourself,” he said to Senna.
Who knew how long it would be before Reden escaped from Prenny. In comparison, eluding Dorri would be as easy as pushing a needle through wool.
Hunched over the plants, the Apprentice glowered at Senna. “Well, get to work.”
It wasn’t long before Senna had her chance. While the others gathered around for a water break, she put a tree between them and stole away. The windows of Penny’s enormous four-story tree house remained dark. Senna removed the key from the ring so their clanking didn’t draw attention. Moving like a shadow, she crept through the foliage. At the bottom of the steps, she hesitated before lifting her skirt and running up the last few steps.
Her heart hammering in her temples, she slid the key into the lock. It turned with a loud click. She pulled on the hammered metal latch, and the door opened with a groan. After slipping inside, she shut the door softly behind her and hurried to the parlor. At the oval-shaped window, she pulled the heavy drapes closed. Moving by memory, she felt her way toward the stove.
Her foot collided with the corner of a dark lump of furniture in an explosion of pain. Biting back her curse, she hobbled the last few steps and set down a candle nub—plain tallow instead of anything scented that Prenny might notice. Senna lit the candle in the glowing coals of the fire. It flared, orange swallowed by yellow that stained her aftervision with an ethereal glow.
She limped to the cabinet. In the candle’s soft light, she saw her reflection in the glass, a ghost who wore guilt on her face. Her dark gold hair seemed to ripple with red and orange, making her an eerie likeness to the candle. Her golden eyes glinted a darker topaz.
Ignoring her specter, she took out a smaller key, inserted it into the cabinet’s tiny lock, and opened the cabinet. Her clammy hands left a damp imprint that immediately began to fade.
Senna set down ten glass vials from inside her satchel. Each cork pulled free with an accusatory pop. After wiping her hands on her dress, she reached for the first potion—Ioa. She filled her smaller vials from Prenny’s beakers, then placed each vial in her satchel. The beaker she carefully replaced on its dust-free circle on the shelf.
She worked quickly, taking only the smallest amounts. Just as she’d begun pouring the last bottle, she heard the floor behind her shift beneath someone’s weight.
“Who’s there?” a voice asked.
Senna jumped, spil
ling precious potion all over the floor.
The woman in the doorway hissed at the waste. Prenny stepped into the small circle of light cast by the candle.
Senna’s mind whirled with a thousand lies that could free her, but Prenny would believe none of them. So she kept silent, her insides quivering. She should have waited for Reden or Hesten. With one of them keeping watch outside, Prenny would never have caught her.
The Head’s thin lips were pressed together. “Collectively, those potions took years to make.”
Senna tipped her head in acknowledgement. “I know.”
Prenny snorted. She took Senna’s candle, then moved to a small table and lit a heavy lantern. She turned up the wick. Light flooded the room, making Senna blink. Prenny reached inside the satchel and pulled each potion out. She twisted down her magnification lens and read the labels. “By the Creators, these are fighting potions.” She pulled her glasses off and pinched the bridge of her nose. “What could you possibly want with fighting potions?”
Senna’s tongue felt like a useless piece of cured meat in her mouth.
Prenny locked the cabinet and shook the stolen key at Senna. “Where did you get this? And how did you get in my home?”
Knowing any lie she told might trap her, Senna kept her mouth shut.
Prenny harrumphed and shoved the key in her dress pocket. “In addition to stealing my potions, you’ve stolen my time. Chesli flowers only open for a few nights a year. Now, instead of pollinating them, I’m wasting my time with you.” She whipped her black cloak around her shoulders and picked up the lantern. “You will come with me. Now.”
Senna considered running, but she couldn’t leave Reden. And she needed those potions. They were one of the few things she was counting on to keep her alive.
Tugging her hood down to hide her face, Senna moved beside Prenny, who grasped her arm firmly above her elbow. Just before they reached the Council Tree, Senna pretended to trip. She tossed the keys into the shadows of the foliage, grunting to mask the sound of their clanking. Pogg would find them. He always did.
Prenny hauled her up. Without hesitation, the Head marched her back into the midst of the Witches and up to Coyel, who was bent over the chesli plants, her fingers caked with glowing pollen.
“We have a problem,” Prenny said. “Where are the others?”
Coyel straightened her back with a groan. She glanced at Senna before sending off two Witchlings to find Drenelle and Chavis. Coyel moved Prenny and Senna out of earshot of the other Witches while they waited for the other Heads to arrive.
Chavis was the last to come in. All of them were smudged with glowing pollen. The chesli plants were so integral to potions that even the Heads participated in the harvest. The four gathered around the lantern to shield its light from the insects swarming the glowing flowers. Senna was trapped inside.
Coyel rolled her neck. “All right, Prenny, what has Brusenna done now?”
Prenny handed her the seed belt. “I caught her in my home, stealing potions.”
“Stealing?” Coyel took the belt. She held one of the glinting vials to the light.
Though Senna’s heart dropped to her toes, she forced her head high as she met Coyel’s baffled gaze.
“How did you get a key to my home? My potion cabinet?” Prenny demanded.
Senna stared at the field of Witches bent over the glowing pollen. Arianis was in the center of a group of girls who were stealing covert glances and sharing hushed whispers. Amid all the furtiveness, Mistin stood unmoving, staring at Senna.
Senna found her voice. “You all seem to have forgotten I lived on this island alone for months. I took the key to Prenny’s cabinet and used it to get what I needed to fight Espen.”
Prenny’s mouth opened and closed again. For once, she seemed at a loss for words.
“And you never gave the key back?” Chavis asked.
Thinking it best to say as little as possible, Senna shook her head.
“What other keys do you have?”Chavis asked.
Glad she’d ditched the keys, Senna answered truthfully, “None.”
Drenelle, who’d been quiet until now, touched each of her jewels as if to reassure herself none were missing. “We’ll have to search her belongings. All of them. Who knows what other things she has that don’t belong to her.”
That was certainly something a traitor would say, though they wouldn’t find anything. There was nothing to find. Imagining them combing through her underthings and rag chest, she shifted her weight uncomfortably.
“The girl clearly needs a firmer hand,” Prenny said. “I tried to tell you she wasn’t ready for an Apprenticeship yet.”
“Why, Senna?” Coyel asked, a hurt look on her face. “Why were you stealing potions?”
Handling Prenny’s anger was so much easier than Coyel’s disappointment. “Because I had to.”
Chavis took the belt from Coyel and carefully pulled out each vial. Her eyebrow slowly rose. “These are all the potions I’d take if I planned on going to war.”
The other Heads all looked startled—all except Prenny, who had begun to look uneasy.
“What do you mean?” Coyel demanded.
“She’s pestered each of us in turn to lift the curse. I think it’s clear where she was going.” Chavis’ dark eyes pinned Senna to the ground. “Do you deny it?”
Senna wished she could disappear like ice on a midsummer day. “No.” Going to Tarten was only part of it, but she wasn’t about to tell the Heads that.
“Where was she going?” Drenelle asked.
Prenny snorted. “She was going to attempt lifting the curse on her own.”
Chavis gestured towards Tarten. “What could you possibly think to accomplish except to get yourself killed?”
Drenelle eyed Senna. “You’re lucky you didn’t succeed. If you had, we would have been forced to banish you.”
Which would provide a perfect opportunity to take me captive, Senna thought.
The lantern’s dim light cast deep shadows that hid Coyel’s eyes. “There’s something more, isn’t there, Senna?”
Senna stared at Coyel, wanting so badly to trust someone.
“Senna, please,” Coyel asked again. “I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s going on.”
Maybe Senna was wrong not to trust the Heads. Especially Coyel. Maybe they really would help her. But she couldn’t shake Reden’s warning. “There’s nothing, Head.”
Coyel took a deep breath. “Senna, this was wrong, but I can understand why you did it. You will give Prenny back her potions. We’ll decide your punishment tomorrow. As for the Tartens, that is not something you need concern yourself with. We are dealing with it in our own way.”
Senna ground her teeth. She needed those potions if she was going to Tarten, but now she was going to have to do without them. She started to back away, determined to find Reden and leave as soon as possible.
A voice stopped her. “She’s not telling you everything.”
When had Arianis wandered over? Senna gave a minute shake of her head, silently begging the girl to hold her tongue.
Arianis looked away. “She’s been secretly meeting with the Dark Witch.”
And with those words, Senna knew her world would never be the same.
15. Plant Song
Coyel’s expression crumpled. “Senna, this can’t be true.”
Senna wanted to run, hide. But she was tired of deceit. Tired of lies. “I went to Espen for answers.”
“She’s lying. Trees tell no tales,” Chavis said darkly, her thumb absently stroking the butt of her pistol.
Senna met the older woman’s gaze. “She scratched her answers in the dirt.”
“And what did the Dark Witch say?” Coyel asked softly.
“She said I could Travel because I’m Creator-touched. And she gave me two names, promising me more information if I come to her.”
“What names?” Prenny asked.
“Lilette and Calden.”
“You’re a fool and worse,” Chavis said.
Drenelle rolled one of her rings around her finger. “Or the traitor we’ve been searching for.”
“Why would I have myself attacked?” Senna cried.
Drenelle glared at her. “To throw us off, maybe.”
Their words cut Senna like an avalanche of glass. She met Chavis’ intense gaze. “Before I turned her into a tree, Espen tried to warn me about some other threat. She hasn’t lived in isolation on Haven, so I hoped she would know something. She told me of Lilette and Calden. I think some of the Witches escaped the destruction, and they’re threatening us now. If I want more, I have to go to Tarten and ask Espen.”
Prenny shot the other Heads a look of disgust. “Don’t mistake misguidance for maliciousness. Remember, Espen tricked us all once.”
“Why didn’t you come to us?” Coyel asked.
Senna trembled with humiliation and impotent anger. “Because I overheard you saying you wouldn’t tell me anything. And I believe there’s another traitor—someone who let my attacker on the island and kept them here. Someone with the power and knowledge to orchestrate all of this. My best guess is it’s one of you.”
Chavis gave a short bark of laughter. “The girl is mad. Completely and utterly—”
Drenelle stood up straighter. “You’re an Apprentice, Brusenna. It’s about time you remembered that!”
It was Senna’s turn to shout. “What I am is a Keeper!”
Prenny’s voice went low and dangerous. “You don’t deserve the title of Keeper yet.”
Senna gritted her teeth. “Keepers keep—they don’t destroy. So you tell me who doesn’t deserve the title.”
“You go too far, Senna.” Coyel’s impervious mask slipped for the second time, revealing just how upset she was. “The course of action you have set for yourself leaves us no choice. We must confine you until we can prove whether or not what you’ve told us is true. If you’ve actually conversed with Espen, we must determine how much she has distorted you.”