by Amber Argyle
The Composer motioned for Cord to come closer. “For drugging you.”
Senna sucked in a breath. She tested the unnatural heft of her limbs. Her heavy eyes. And she remembered the bitter tea. “But everyone drank the same tea,” she protested.
“The sleeping powder was already in the chipped cup.”
Senna felt Cord behind her, his hands outstretched in case she fell. But she hadn’t swallowed it all. That single act of defiance might save her.
But Cord would know that. She met his gaze and pleaded through the link. In return, she felt his fury, but not with her. Instead, his anger was directed at Ellesh.
His conviction spilled into her. He wouldn’t tell the Composer and give the woman another reason to violate Senna. He would watch her carefully and keep her safe. He promised it to himself and her even as Senna pitched into him.
In one smooth movement, he held her limp body protectively in his arms.
Ellesh rubbed her face tiredly. “I have done two great wrongs against you, child. I’m sorry for that. But it’s better this way. Better you wake long after we’re gone. Too far away for you to catch up to us. Too far away for you to interfere or risk yourself. Still, I am sorry.”
Senna was finding it difficult to concentrate. “When I am Composer, I’ll make you pay for this.”
Ellesh chuckled dryly. “We’ll see, Brusenna. We’ll see.”
30. Forever Sleep
Senna woke to the sound of pacing. She sat up with a start. The drug still pulled at her, but she fought it with every bit of determination she had. It was still dark out. Maybe it wasn’t too late. But before she’d even reached the door, Cord was there. Knowing the link was betraying her every idea, she tried to think of a way to escape without actually thinking of a way to escape.
Cord took her arm and steered her toward the bed. “Go back to sleep.”
She was afraid if she lay down again for even a moment the warm bed would capture her. “What right do you have to even be here?” It wasn’t appropriate to have a man in her bedroom.
He blinked as if he was having a hard time keeping his eyes open. “The bond is considered practically a marriage anyway.”
Ignoring that, she narrowed her gaze at him. He seemed nearly as tired as she did. Was it possible the potion was affecting him as well, perhaps diluting its potency between the two of them? She hadn’t even drunk all of it.
Was that why he’d been pacing earlier? To try to stay awake?
She thought of potions she could use, but she didn’t have any potions—or seeds. All she had was herself.
She missed Joshen so much. She remembered another time when sleep had pulled at her, dragging her down to its soft depths. A song had saved her. It had been magic, not of power or potions, but the magic of one soul connecting to another.
Softly, she sang a lullaby her mother had sung to her as a child, when she was free from danger and betrayal.
Magic rings and moonbeams,
Star giggles and shadow schemes,
Gallantly slip the singing streams.
The lion basks in the flower’s beams
In the garden of your dreams.
Cord slumped against the doorway. Behind him, there were more Guardians assigned to watch her, but they were staring glassy-eyed at the fire.
With a start, Cord rubbed his face and looked at her blearily. “What are you doing?”
Firmly tamping down any thoughts of escape, she sank into the bed to allay his fears and sang again. It had an immediate effect. Behind him, one of the Guardian’s heads tipped back. The other rested his forehead on the table. Cord slumped forward, his eyes closed.
Focusing fiercely on the song, Senna sang again. Cord’s legs buckled. He caught himself with a start. Half asleep, he glanced at her, his mind fighting to wake.
Hoping against hope that it worked, Senna rose seductively. She crossed the room one swaying step at a time. She didn’t let her voice falter or hitch as she reached out and took his hand.
The connection between them surged again—the joy of finding something you never knew you had lost. He followed the seduction of her song. She had him captured in a spell. She didn’t question how. She pulled him down on the bed beside her. Propping herself up on her elbows, she sang over and over. It wasn’t enough. But it hadn’t been that other time, either.
With the vibration of the song still powering her lips, she kissed him, softly, gently. Her lips held enough residue from her songs to push him over the edge. With a slip of a sigh, he eased into sleep.
A surge of triumph coursed through her. Cord shifted. Reining in her emotions, Senna hummed the lullaby. She crossed the room, then stepped out and eased the door shut behind her, keeping her thoughts firmly on the song.
The two Guardians in the main room were sound asleep—one was even snoring. Keeping her steps light, Senna took Cord’s cloak and draped it across her shoulders. It was much too long for her, sweeping the ground, but it would keep her warm and hide her light coloring in shadows.
After tugging the hood low over her face, she gently pushed the door open and left the tree house. Just to be sure, she kept humming the song.
Hoping a little distance would mute her link with Cord, she moved directly away from the tree. She put a few dozen paces between them before starting in the direction where she thought the shore was. The city was eerily empty. She walked for far too long before stopping to look around.
After all she’d been through, she was going to fail to escape because she was lost! Pressing the heels of her palms into her eyes, she tried to force her sluggish mind to think.
How did the Caldashans find their way? Senna remembered walking with Mistin and Cord. They had glanced around quickly, like they were seeing some sort of sign, but what?
Senna studied everything around her, trying to figure out which path would lead in the right direction.
But Mistin and Cord had never looked at the paths. They’d looked at the trees. Senna stopped short. Moss grew on the trees’ north side. She glanced up and caught glimpses of stars in the sky. She’d spent enough time on a ship to understand how to read the stars, at least a little. Now she knew which way was north. With this new way of looking at things, she made a left and headed towards the river. She didn’t watch the paths—she watched the moss and the stars above her.
Senna didn’t know how long she’d traveled when she saw a woman running through the trees, a package clutched to her chest. Moving on instinct, Senna broke into a run after her, careful to keep a safe distance. Soon, more girls had joined the first. Senna hurried to catch up with them. Breathing hard, she was careful to lag a little behind. By the time they reached the docks, there were nearly ten of them.
There was only one riverboat remaining. The rest of the Witches must have already left on their journey downriver, where larger ships waited to take them to sea, and from there to Haven. She had to find a way aboard this boat and then a seagoing ship if she wanted any chance of stopping the Caldash Witches from destroying her home.
“About time,” a Guardian huffed. “The other boats left long ago.”
The girls answered with a chorus of “I’m sorry”s.
Senna kept quiet; she didn’t want her accent to reveal her. It was dark enough that the shadows hid her features. Still, she kept her cloak pulled low over her face and stayed right on the heels of the girl in front of her.
Quelling her hesitation, Senna stepped into the boat.
The Guardian climbed in after her, obviously not pleased that theirs was the last boat to leave. “All of you try to get some sleep. We’ll be transferring to the ships early in the morning.” He finished untying the boat, and he and the other Guardians took up positions around the perimeter, steering them downstream.
Senna lay on the floor of the boat, which was lined with straw and blankets. Some Witches were sitting up, watching the city of Lilette grow smaller by the moment. Others had already lain down. Senna found a place facing the side of
the craft and put her back to the others. She wrapped Cord’s cloak so it completely covered her and finally gave into the pull of the potion.
Some time later, she woke with a sudden surge of panic. Her left side was soaked. Apparently, the boat leaked. Unable to help the groan that escaped her lips, she sat up. It was early morning, so early the darkness was still thick and soft like rabbit fur.
The small boat maneuvered into the dock. Large ships towered above them.
As far as Senna could tell, there was nothing to justify the fear splitting her insides apart. But the panic didn’t ebb. Then she realized it wasn’t hers. Cord must have woken up and discovered she was gone.
To her relief, the connection didn’t feel as strong as before. She had a vague feeling of Cord’s direction, but she couldn’t be sure of the distance. Hopefully, his link was as fuzzy as hers. She tried to keep her mind blank.
Sleep still clinging to her like a sickness, she stumbled to her feet. Shivering, she joined the columns of Witches who had climbed out of the smaller crafts to enter the surging, shouting chaos surrounding the docks.
Sailors were everywhere, directing the Witches from the small river crafts to board dozens of enormous seagoing ships, working the pulleys that loaded pallets of cargo, and scrambling up and down masts. One of them was probably the ship Senna had arrived on not long ago.
Any moment now, someone was going to glance under her hood and get a good look at her face. Ducking her head even lower, she mumbled an apology to the sailor and went back to the boat to pretend to look for something.
The Guardian from the night before caught sight of her in the boat. He worked through the throng toward her. “Here now, hurry up. You have to stay with your choir. They’ll leave you behind and then we’ll have no end of trouble figuring out where you should be.”
He held out his hand to help her out of the boat. Knowing her pale skin would reveal her, she pretended she didn’t see it and climbed out herself.
He watched her warily, the first hints of suspicion touching his features. He took her elbow. “Come with me. I’ll make sure you catch up.”
She had to get away from him. Now.
At that moment, the men loading a crate of cargo with pulleys and horses gave a shout, ordering the Guardian and Senna to stop. The crate wobbled unsteadily. The Guardian’s eyes were finally off her.
“I remember where I put it now,” she mumbled to hide her accent. He shot her an annoyed look but let go of her. She did the only thing she could. Moving out of sight beside the boat, she sat down and slipped off the pier into the water. The shock of the cold drove back her exhaustion.
Her sandals and clothes weighed her down and made swimming impossible. She unlatched her cloak and let it drift down to the bottom. She dove, managing to stay underwater until she’d put the ship between her and the too-curious Guardian. She came up on the other side and took a silent breath as he called for her in confusion. She doubted he would shrug off her disappearance, but there was nothing she could do about that.
Glad her time as a seal had taught her that ships usually had rungs up the side, she found them and hauled herself out of the water. Her clothes felt heavy and her limbs tired. The metal was slick under her sandals. Halfway up, she slipped and banged her shins on the rungs.
Dangling by her hands, she scrambled for purchase. She finally managed to haul herself up to the top rung. But the deck was swarming with Witches, Guardians, and sailors. There was no way she could climb over the rail without someone noticing. After hooking her arms around the top rung, she waited for things to settle down.
They didn’t. Even after the ship left the docks and moved downriver, she was stuck. Dawn finally came. Eventually, her clothes dried and the sun baked the shivers out of her. Soon after, she was hot, and her recently dried dress became damp with sweat instead of river water.
Cord’s panic seemed to have settled. She felt him moving toward her. He’d left the city of Lilette, his attention focused singly on her. Still, she didn’t think he’d catch up to her before they reached the open seas.
She tangled her arms through the rungs and dozed when she could. She grew painfully thirsty and desperately needed to empty her bladder. No matter how much she shifted, some part of her was always numb.
More than once, someone on the riverbank gaped at her. There was nothing for it but to wave and smile. Bewildered, they waved back. She saw lots of Mettlemots and was dismayed that, other than size, they all looked just like Pogg.
It was midday before they reached the open sea. The traffic on deck began to slow, and Senna started to hope she might sneak on board. But then a wind message came from the city of Lilette. Its meaning was garbled, barely discernible. All the Witches with any power of song or knowledge of war had already left, which led Senna to believe it had been sung by the weakest of Witches—Wastrels. They would’ve had to spend the entire morning singing for a single message.
She felt a little sorry for them, even if their song had betrayed the fact she was missing and presumed onboard one of their ships.
This announcement was followed by a heartbeat of silence, and then Krissin’s voice rang out, “Have the ship searched. Now.”
Senna readjusted her grip on the rungs and hoped they wouldn’t think to look over the side. After searching for what felt like hours, the ships rang with the confirmation that no one had seen Senna.
They were out in the open water now, fast approaching the shimmering barrier.
Senna’s sigh of relief caught in her throat when they passed through. She was lost and afraid and alone. And then they were on the other side. The sudden storm bit into her flesh, but she barely felt the wind’s teeth. She was too consumed by horror at the sight of dark ships stretching as far as she could see.
An armada bearing Tarten’s red flags. At this distance, Senna would be hard to make out, but that wouldn’t last for much longer. She couldn’t stay here, not where any Tarten could look out and see her. She’d rather take her chances with the Witches.
Gripping the next rung with shaking hands, she peeked over the side. There were people everywhere and nowhere to hide. “Might as well get this over with,” she muttered to herself. She hauled herself up and over the side. Her muscles had cramped into place. She straightened herself stiffly.
Everyone on deck froze.
Krissin moved first, marching over and gripping Senna’s arm, a phalanx of Guardians at her back. “Foolish girl! Do you know what you’ve done?”
Senna was too tired to care. “I’m thirsty, and I need to relieve myself.”
“We should take her back,” Krissin’s Guardian said.
Krissin pursed her lips. “How long do you think it will take for the Haven Witches to feel our songs? We’ve passed the barrier. We mustn’t stop now.” She glanced at the Witches standing a little ways back. “Sing to those in the city of Lilette. Tell them we found her, and make certain none of the Tarten ships hear the song.”
“If the Tartens find her, they’ll kill her,” the Guardian warned.
Krissin sighed. “They couldn’t possibly know she’s here.”
One of the sailors called, “Head, a Tarten captain is requesting to board.”
Krissin’s skin went a chalky gray. “Our ship? But if they meet with anyone it should be Millay. She is the Head of War.”
The sailor shook his head. “They’ve already put a boat in the water, Head.”
Krissin pointed to two Guardians. “Get Brusenna out of sight. If she tries anything foolish, knock her unconscious.”
The Guardians grasped Senna’s arms, hauled her into one of the officer’s small cabins, and told her to keep quiet. Then they shut the door.
Senna found and used the chamber pot. Then she waited in the dim, cramped room, sweat starting down her back. Soon, she heard voices on deck. Unable to hear or see anything, she perched on the edge of the bed.
It wasn’t long before the door was pushed open. Krissin stood looking at Senna, he
r face hard. She nodded to the Guardians. “Go on deck with the others. Be ready for trouble.” After they left, she shut the door behind them. “Somehow the Tartens know you’re onboard.”
Waves of dread rushed through Senna with each heartbeat. “What? How?”
She felt Cord reacting to her fear. She pushed the interference aside.
Krissin shook her head. “I don’t know. But if I don’t bring you out, they’ll call off our alliance. And if they don’t attack us immediately, Haven will. We’ve already revealed ourselves to them. Either way, it’ll mean war—a war we might not win. I can’t save your life at the cost of hundreds more, Creator-touched or not, next Composer or not.”
Senna rested her head in her hands and then started when Krissin shoved a waterskin, hard bread, and salted lamb into her hands. “Keep it next to your breasts. That’s the safest place for it.”
“Unless they rape me.”
Krissin faltered. “Try and stay alive until our battle with them is finished. We’ll monitor the ship they have you on and try to negotiate for your release.”
Senna doubted she would live that long.
Krissin held the door open and gestured her out. Unused to the brightness, Senna squinted at the dark figures on deck. When she recognized them, she went as still as a grave. Grendi narrowed her eyes. With wings of white at her temples, her thick black hair was piled in elaborate twists on top of her head. The silk of her sleeveless dress rippled like water. In her hand, she held Joshen’s section of the crescent-moon pendant. It stretched and twisted toward the pendant at Senna’s throat.
“No.” The denial left her mouth before she could stop it.
Grendi delicately took the pendant and tapped it against her metal ring. It immediately went limp. Her smile was wide and predatory. “Brusenna. How fine to see you again. I’m so glad you crossed this abominable barrier so we could find you. We have much to catch up on.”
Cold talons of fear wrapped around Senna’s soul. “What have you done with Joshen?”