Joshen tugged Senna after him. “How are we to escape?” he asked.
Reden shook his head. “Leave that to me.”
When they arrived at Velveten, Collum was on duty. He looked a bit wan and was hunched over. Reden had said he’d been sick. Still, he seemed alert.
Collum eyed them, his brow furrowed. “Leader Reden, Joshen. What was all that commotion?”
Reden motioned for Collum to step aside. “Let us pass, Guardian.”
Collum shifted uneasily on his feet. “Sir? You need a signed pass from the Heads.”
“No. I don’t.”
The Heads’ orders overruled Reden’s, and they all knew it. Joshen tugged Senna forward so the lantern light spilled across her face. “We have to get her out, Collum. Before it’s too late.”
Collum opened his mouth, then closed it again.
Joshen took another step towards his friend. “They almost took her again yesterday. And there’s a danger coming for Haven. We have to stop it.” When Collum didn’t respond, Joshen said softly, “Sometimes we have to protect our Witches from their own mistakes—even the Heads. Leary knew that.”
Collum glanced around, the beads in his hair clicking. “They’ll throw me out, take away my Guardianship. It’s all I’ve ever wanted.”
Joshen gritted his teeth, knowing he’d already forfeited the role he’d worked towards his entire life. Now instead of being a Guardian, he would be hunted by them. But it didn’t matter, not when Senna was involved.
Reden pulled a length of rope from his pocket. “I’ll tie you loose enough to slip free if you’re needed.”
Collum stared at the rope before slowly raising his hands. Joshen let out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding.
Reden quickly tied the knots. “If anyone asks why you didn’t call for help, tell them the last thing you remembered was the smell of flowers.”
Joshen rested a hand on his friend’s shoulder. Collum nodded in understanding.
Collum sat down so they could tie his feet. Reden made fast work of the ropes while Joshen tugged Senna into the cave.
Reden retrieved two packed satchels stowed beneath one of the piers. Joshen stepped into the boat and was turning back to help Senna when someone cried, “Wait!”
Expecting Chavis to put a ball in his head, Joshen turned. But it was only that diminutive Witch who’d been tied up with Senna. What was her name? Mistin?
“Take me with you,” she said.
Joshen and Reden exchanged disbelieving looks.
“No.” Reden handed Senna over to Joshen, who helped her down and settled her on one of the benches.
Mistin took a step closer, but not close enough Reden could grab her. “Take me with you or I’ll tell the Heads what you’re doing. You’ll never escape.”
Reden glared at her. “Threatening us is the wrong tactic, little Witch.”
Mistin dropped her face in her hands and started crying. Joshen looked away. By the Creators, he couldn’t stand it when girls cried.
Reden seemed as unfazed by her tears as he was by her threats. “You’re going to be banished tomorrow anyway.”
Mistin sniffed loudly. “They’ll come for me in the morning and take me to the Ring of Power. All the Witches will gather around me. The Dawn Song will be stripped away, so I’ll never be able to come inside the island again. Then they’ll take me to Corrieth, give me a handful of upice coins, and abandon me. Please don’t make me live through that.”
Joshen wanted to shout in frustration. They needed to get Senna off this island, not stand here and argue with some sniveling Sprout!
Reden grunted in agreement. “All right. We’ll take you as far as Corrieth. We could use another rower anyway.”
Mistin’s face brightened immediately. “Thank you! Oh, thank you!” She darted into the boat as if afraid they might change their minds.
Joshen turned his attention to Senna. She stared at the rock wall, swaying. He wondered what she heard. Judging by the look on her face, it was beautiful. A pang of jealousy shot through him. He pushed it away. Her job was to sing. His job was to keep her alive.
“Is your song strong enough to sing us out?” Reden asked Mistin.
“No.”
Lot of good she was. Joshen rubbed the back of Senna’s hand with his thumbs. “You have to sing for us, my love.” It was like she couldn’t hear him. “Senna?” When she still didn’t answer, he cupped his hands over her ears, blocking out whatever she was hearing.
She blinked wearily at him. “Joshen?”
That was the first time she’d fully focused on his face. The first time she’d spoken. He leaned forward until he was the only thing she could see. “Sing for us.”
She half shook her head. “Sing?”
He leaned towards her and kissed her softly. When he pulled back, her eyes tracked him. “Sing us off the island.”
She glanced around again in confusion before focusing on the water. Her face cleared. Her song was little more than a whisper.
I ask of thee, plants of the sea,
Take me from the place none but Witches see.
Her voice was so lovely it made his chest hurt. The world seemed to pause, listening. All he wanted was to protect her. In doing so, was he stifling her?
Senna paused, her brow furrowed.
Joshen nodded reassuringly. “Keep singing, Senna.”
She stared blankly at him. He smiled at her. She sang again. This time, the world seemed to move in harmony with her.
Before she’d even finished her second song, kelp shot up from the water. Holding Senna tight to his chest, Joshen lay back and tried not to panic. No matter how many times he came in or out of the island, it terrified him anew. Kelp circled the boat, blotting out the lantern light. He felt the boat tip upward.
Joshen braced himself as they pitched forward under the water. Senna gripped fistfuls of his shirt in her hands, a small sound of panic slipping from her mouth.
17. Sea Witch
Senna woke to the feel of something rocking beneath her and the sound of lapping waves. She jerked upright, panic coursing through her. She was in a small boat with Joshen, Reden…and Mistin. They were all breathing hard and red-faced from rowing. Senna gripped the lacquered sides of the craft and pulled herself up. Morning light kissed the tops of the sea, leaving sparks of passion wherever it touched.
Senna’s gaze locked with Joshen’s. “I…How did I get here? The Heads—they were going to lock me up.”
“They still might,” Reden answered.
Joshen handed her a skin of water. Why was he here? He’d threatened to stop her before. She drank to wash away the stale taste in her mouth.
“They drugged you with barbus extract. Actually, some of it got on your skin, which is why it put you out for so long. If breathing it can put you instantly to sleep, think how much stronger it is soaked into your skin,” Mistin rambled nervously. “It’ll take a few hours for the confusion to completely fade.”
Shivering in the chill morning air, Senna pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders. “Where are we?”
Joshen nodded towards a dark smudge in the distance. “Nearly to Corrieth.”
She rubbed her numb hip. “How did you get me out?”
Joshen studied her. “Do you remember any of it?”
She closed her eyes. Images flashed in her mind. “Lights, moths—their wings on my skin—falling.” She caught her friends watching her with guarded expressions. “Was it a dream?”
Reden shook his head. “It was no dream.” He told her how she’d glowed and about singing the wind into a shield around herself.
Remembering the power that had surged through her last night, Senna closed her eyes and searched for an echo of it. But it was spent. She’d never felt so empty.
“What’s happening to me?”
Joshen and Reden dug their oars in harder.
The Heads probably knew she was gone by now. Time was not on their side. Her body still sluggish
with sleep, Senna took the seat next to Mistin and grabbed an oar.
“What about your hand?” Joshen asked.
Senna mentally counted how many days since her injury. Nearly two weeks. “It’ll be all right if I’m careful.” Reden gave her strips of a ripped blanket and she wrapped them around her hands to protect her from blisters. She waited until she had their rhythm, then she started rowing. The strain bothered her, but it was bearable if she used her fingers to grip the oar instead of her palm.
Sweating beside her, Mistin glanced over her shoulder as the city began to take shape.
“Why are you with us?” Senna asked.
Joshen told Senna how Mistin had fought for her. His account evoked Senna’s memories, and she felt a stab of guilt. For helping her, Mistin would be banished from the only place she’d ever been safe.
Mistin sighed. “What will I tell my brother?”
“Brother? I thought you were from Dresdan.”
Mistin nodded towards Corrieth. “Cord wants to become a Guardian, remember? It’s all he’s ever wanted.” She pinched her eyes shut. “Now he’ll have me to worry about.”
Reden spoke up. “Then why hasn’t he applied?”
Mistin gave a halfhearted shrug. “Because he’s not of age yet.” All Guardians had to be at least seventeen.
Senna wiped sweat off her forehead with her shoulder. “What will you do now?”
Mistin shuddered. “I don’t know. There’s nowhere for me to go. Cord won’t join the Guardians now. He won’t leave me unprotected and alone, but he’ll blame me for his lost opportunity the rest of his life.” She sniffed loudly and turned to Senna, confusion clouding her dark eyes. “Why would you want to travel to Tarten?”
Senna blew her hair out of her eyes. “I’m going to lift the curse.”
“Senna,” Joshen growled in warning.
She ignored him. Mistin deserved to know. “You could come with us.”
“What?” Joshen cried at the same time that Reden said, “Senna.”
Mistin glanced apprehensively at the Guardians.
Ignoring the two sets of eyes boring holes into her back, Senna went on. “We could use your help.”
Mistin bit her bottom lip. “But what about Cord? He’ll never let me go with you—he’s so protective.”
They rowed in silence and Senna could practically feel the tension draining out of the men. “What if he came too?”
The tension increased again.
Mistin slowly nodded. “I think he’d like that.”
“Absolutely not,” Joshen said from behind.
Reden grunted. “This isn’t an adventure. It’s dangerous.”
Mistin’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Senna is my friend. I want to help.”
Senna turned to see Reden studying Mistin as a commander would assess a new recruit. “Prenny said your song was barely strong enough to bother with.”
Mistin’s expression hardened. “There are other things I can do. And you need all the help you can get.”
Reden heaved at his oar. “What kinds of things?”
Joshen stared at Reden incredulously. “You’re not actually considering this, are you? We already have Senna to look after.”
Mistin lifted her chin. “I don’t need you to look after me. I can fight.”
Joshen snorted. “And you think a little thing like you is any good against an army of—”
“I can shoot a musket!” Mistin shouted over him. “After my family died, my brother and I grew up on the streets. We can handle ourselves.”
Senna stiffened. As if she needed to be looked after. Joshen didn’t seem to notice he’d offended her.
Reden let out his breath in obvious exasperation. “You have a lot to learn about women, Joshen.” He nodded towards Mistin. “You slow us down, we leave you behind. Understand?”
Mistin set her jaw. “I won’t slow you down.”
Joshen muttered something about how it was hard enough having one woman around who was also a Witch. He didn’t think he could deal with two.
Senna ignored him.
“We’ll need a ship,” Reden said.
Joshen grunted. “A ship? It’ll be safer if we escape over land—it’s a lot less volatile than the sea.”
Senna frowned at him. “The only way to Tarten is by ship, and you know it.”
He sighed. “We don’t have to go to Tarten, Senna. We could—”
She had to stop and rest her hand. She shook out the cramps. “One more word and you’ll be swimming to shore.”
After a moment, he said through clenched teeth, “Let’s hope Captain Parknel has the Sea Witch in port.”
Senna sang for the wind to carry her song to Captain Parknel, advising him that they needed passage.
Reden waited for her song to end before speaking. “And if he doesn’t make it back or his ship was damaged after the earth tremor?”
No one bothered to answer.
Blisters had formed on Senna’s hands long before they reached Corrieth. Her scar ached fiercely, but she did her best to ignore it. She surveyed the damage from the storm and the enormous wave of a few days ago. The city itself seemed fairly intact; the high wall surrounding it and the wind must have turned the brunt of the wave. But the port was a disaster. Piers were ripped from their moorings. The ring of hammers sounded everywhere. The hot metal and ash smell of the forges was strong in the air. Worst of all, stranded, broken ships littered the landscape.
What if the Sea Witch was one of those stranded ships?
On one of the few remaining piers, Senna followed Joshen out of the boat, her muscles watery.
Mistin sprinted down the wooden planks. “I’ll go find Cord,” she called over her shoulder. “Don’t leave without us!”
Reden watched her go. “Senna and I will see if we can find the Sea Witch. Joshen, go to the Two Foals stable and round up some horses and fodder. Meet at the Sea Witch in an hour. If it’s not at port, we’ll meet at McBedee’s shop.”
“Reden,” Joshen called before they’d gone a dozen steps. “Don’t leave her side.”
Reden didn’t bother answering. He let out a long breath, then scanned the docks and started asking around. It wasn’t long before they learned the Sea Witch hadn’t been at port for weeks, but was due back soon.
“You’ll have to sing them back,” Reden said.
Senna moved to the end of a quiet pier and sang softly for the wind to bring the ship in quickly. In less than an hour, she saw the black ship with the gold letters “Sea Witch” carved into the side.
Captain Parknel’s ruddy beard gave him away first. He brought the ship in perfectly. Sailors scrambled about, tying off the lines. Within moments, the gangplank was lowered. Merchants from Corrieth came to retrieve their cargo.
Parknel grinned as Senna climbed aboard. He snatched her in a breath-stealing hug. “You brought us back thrice as fast as we left—and that’s usually against a contrary wind. You ever want a place aboard my vessel, you have it.”
Despite everything that had happened over the past few days, Senna broke out in a smile. Asking for nothing in return, Parknel had transported her to Tarten. He had trusted her, fought for her, and believed in her. Besides Joshen and Reden, he was one of the few people she’d call a true friend.
As soon as he set Senna down, she said, “Captain, we need passage.”
He shifted his pipe to the other side of his mouth. “Well, I figured you wouldn’t summon us back for a social call.” He sobered as he studied Corrieth. “I heard it wasn’t as bad as it could have been. Wind rose up and turned the water away from the city. That the Witches doing?”
Senna nodded.
Though Haven wasn’t visible from Corrieth, she couldn’t help but glance nervously in its direction. “I’ll pay for any cargo lost.”
He grinned. “You promise to sing a wind to carry us to Tressalay and back for a season, I’ll count us even. Where to?”
She swallowed the bile rising in her thr
oat. “Tarten.”
Parknel’s face fell. “Again?”
But she was no longer listening to him. She could hear music again, just like the night before. Drawn irresistibly to the sound, she found herself leaning over the railing. Behind her, she was vaguely aware of Reden and Parknel working out the logistics of the trip.
The wind’s song was growing steadily louder, turning from light and soft to hard and dark. The pace pounded against her skin. She could almost taste the salt spray and feel the coming waves that would batter the ship. “They know I’m gone.”
The conversation behind her went on oblivious to the mounting danger. Senna whirled around. “They’re calling in a storm, trying to stop us. We must go. Now!”
Parknel started barking out orders. Reden ran to the other side of the ship and shot a glance down the pier. “Where’s Joshen?”
“Send someone for him,” she shouted.
Men started rushing around the ship, preparing to leave. At the bow, Senna closed her eyes and measured the song’s strength against her own. An hour, maybe less, and the storm would swallow up the coast in a fit of rage.
She searched herself for the unimaginable power she’d held mere hours before. But it was gone. Her own songs could buy them a little time, but as strong as she was, she was still no match for a full Witch choir.
She ran to the stern and faced Haven, countering songs to bring in the storms with songs of calm. Her songs were soft and gentle—songs of warm spring days, sunshine, calm seas. The songs coming against her were anything but. They were dark, full of mystery and danger. The two songs mixed into a cacophony of noise—a sound she knew only she heard. Boiling clouds darkened the sky.
Controlling the winds was like trying to tame a half-wild colt. It wanted to streak across the sky, buck playfully with the clouds. Senna sang even more gently, almost a lullaby. The storm stilled, listening. For a moment, the clouds broke apart and a shaft of sunlight broke through.
But then the Witches’ Channeler let free another song. Control of the winds turned from Senna. Clouds devoured the sunlight. Thunder boomed. A gust of wind whipped her hair. The storm was too far gone to be called back now.