Witch Born (22 page)

Senna watched him go. She wanted to call out to him, beg him to banish her dread with the comfort of his arms, but he wasn’t ready. And maybe she wasn’t, either. Somewhere, she’d lost herself…or maybe she’d never really found herself to begin with. At any rate, she had to learn to love herself wholly before she could love anyone else. “Good night.”

She went to the front of the ship and sang to the wind until it gusted behind her, whipping her loose hair into her face. With a sudden burst, the wind caught her blanket and tore it away from her. She lunged for it, but it was already out of reach. Gasping, she cursed and whirled towards the wind. As if sorry, it snatched her hair from her face.

The damp sea air cooled her hot skin. But it also pressed her thin shift against her body. She wouldn’t be alone on deck. Captain Parknel always kept a lookout in the crow’s nest in addition to the man at the wheel. She felt eyes on her. Straightening, she saw Cord watching her, his musket leaning on the railing beside him.

He must have relieved Joshen. Cord hefted his musket and came towards her. Hugging herself, she ducked and started towards the cabin.

“Wait.”

She picked up her pace.

“Wait.” He took her arm.

She kept her face averted.

Gently, he turned her face towards him. He was silent for a time. “What’s it like?”

Shifting uncomfortably, Senna stared at the deck and wished he would let her go. She couldn’t explain the strange feeling she had whenever he came near. “What’s what like?”

“Singing like…that, to the Four Sisters.”

The question caught her off guard. No one had ever asked that before. She closed her eyes. Wind was like a half-wild colt—full of wild energy. Earth reminded her of an old man with arthritic bones—slow and sleepy. Water was like a temperamental woman—full of secret moods and hidden places. Sunlight was a playful child—subject to sulks and fits of laughter. And plants…She shrugged, not sure she could share something so intimate with a stranger.

“Well, plants for instance,” she finally replied, “They’re reliable. Like your favorite musket, I suspect.”

Cord folded his arms, pleased with himself. And Senna realized he was trying to distract her from her frustration. It had worked—she wasn’t upset anymore. The realization surprised her. She didn’t think Cord the type to care about another’s feelings.

He rubbed his palms together uncomfortably. “I— did he hurt you?”

She was glad the darkness hid her blush. “Joshen? Of course not.”

Cord raised an eyebrow. “Really? Then why were you upset after he left?”

She refused to look at him. “He hurt me a while ago. I guess you could say we’re still trying to get past it.”

Cord cast a glare at the stairs that led below decks. “Your Guardian should be more careful of appearances. Someone might think there was something more between you.”

She shrugged. “There is.”

Cord looked at her more closely. “There— what? That’s allowed?”

“Does it really matter what’s allowed anymore?” Senna started towards the cabin. His hand shot out, gripping her firmly around her arm.

Startled, she turned towards him. He pulled her closer, close enough that her billowing shift brushed his clothes. “Next time you come out to sing, do it a little better clothed.” His eyes dropped down to look at her in nothing but her shift. The wind chose that moment to press it against her body. It took everything she had not to cross her arms over her chest.

When he looked back into her eyes, something passed across his face, something that shouldn’t have been there. Her body flushed with an uncomfortable heat. “You want to be my Guardian, you better learn to hold your tongue. And your gaze.”

Cord’s expression hardened, and he dropped his hand. “Good night, Senna.” He walked to the upper deck and didn’t look back.

Confused and angry, she watched him go. It felt like arrogance to assume he would want her. She was not beautiful—whatever Joshen might say. She was small, with startling golden eyes and matching hair. Strange more than beautiful.

He was at the railing now. And she was still standing in nothing but her shift, glaring at him. Remembering herself with a start, she moved back to the cabin.

She lay in bed beside Mistin, wanting nothing more than to sleep. But there was one last thing she had to do.

She listened to the Four Sister’s music. She didn’t try to fight it as her soul slipped from her body. Traveling its patterns, she stood before Espen. The woman’s branches sagged. She’d lost most of her leaves. “I’m coming,” Senna said.

Espen was more awake now. A blighted branch stretched forward and clawed in the dirt. “Tartens kill Witch on sight.” She scraped the empty space clear and wrote again. “Another enemy.”

Next, she wrote, “More dangerous than Tartens.”

“Who?” Senna asked.

“Songs,” Espen wrote. “Songs from a hidden land.”

Senna curled her arms around her body. “I’ll be careful.”

Senna woke with a start to something that sounded remarkably like a dying frog. Mistin was attempting to sing to the wind. Where Senna’s song was strong enough to advance the ship for hours, Mistin’s was so weak she would have to keep up an almost constant barrage.

Senna buried her head under her pillow. The watch had woken her twice so she could sing to keep up their speed, and it had taken her hours to fall back asleep each time. She was still exhausted.

But there was no blocking out Mistin. With a groan of frustration, Senna pushed herself out of bed and found someone to bring her enough water for a bath. The tub was cramped and the water cold, but at least she wasn’t itching from salt water anymore.

She left her cabin and found the deck strangely empty. Parknel stood at the wheel with an expression she’d seen him wear when sailing into battle—like he was determined to go on through tempest, war, or Mistin’s singing. Senna chuckled to herself.

Reden and Cord stared at her with pleading expressions. Cord had stuffed wool in his ears. “For love of the Creators, can you make her stop?” he said.

Senna strode across the deck and stood beside Mistin, joining in and singing with her. Within two songs, the wind became steady enough to keep them moving at a swift clip for a few hours.

Mistin turned to Senna with a smile so broad her cheeks almost swallowed up her eyes. “I’m starting to love the sea!”

Senna studied her. There had been a question burning in her mind for a while. “Why did you stand up for me against the Heads? Why did you risk your place on Haven?”

“Ha! They were going to kick me out any day, and you know it. The only reason I was still there at all was because I was their servant, and I hated that.” Mistin squinted against the sun. “The only thing they see is the strength of a Witch’s song. They never look at the rest of her.” She turned her beautiful smile onto Senna. “Besides, you’re my friend and you needed me.”

Despite her sour mood, Senna found herself smiling back. A friend—she’d always wanted one of those. “Well, I’m glad you’re here.”

Mistin sighed with pleasure. “I’ll take this round of singing, since I know your voice is probably still tired after that storm. You can cover midday and night.”

Senna wanted to protest. Mistin would have to sing nonstop to keep the wind going. Senna need only sing a few times a day to achieve the same result. But Mistin would only see her help as an insult.

And her voice did need rest. “All right.” Everyone would just have to deal with it.

Senna jumped as a shot fired. She turned to see Cord lower his musket and nod at something Reden said. He reloaded, sighted down the barrel, and fired again. Despite herself, Senna jumped again. She really hated guns.

Reden gestured for the two women to join them. “You need to learn this.” He held out a pistol to Senna.

She reached inside her seed belt and pulled out the pistol Joshen had given her. “I’ve practiced with Joshen a few times, but I’ve never had the chance to use it. I guess it’s not much good in an ambush.”

Reden’s face was hard. “Not unless it’s ready. Takes a minute to load.”

She shrugged. “I can sing faster than that.”

He handed Senna and Mistin some balled-up wool to stuff in their ears. “Primed, it’s faster than Witch song. Different weapons fit different situations, Senna. You should be deft in all of them. You’ll practice every day, twice a day. I’m going to teach you and Mistin some grappling, too.”

Mistin didn’t accept the wool. “Maybe later. I saw them bringing Senna a bath. I want one too.”

Reden’s gaze never left Mistin’s small figure as she walked to their cabin.

Senna smirked as she started loading the pistol. “Did you have a girl back in Tarten?”

Reden started slightly. “A girl? No. Being married to a soldier is a hard thing to ask of anyone—sending him off, not knowing whether he’ll return at all. It’s worse when you’re a Commander.”

It had been a while since Senna had practiced with Joshen. After she’d finally loaded the pistol, she shook her hair out of her eyes and sighted down the barrel. “Why?”

Reden squinted against the sun. “Because Grendi has very little tolerance for a Commander who displeases her. And she’s very easy to displease. I lingered longer than most. Still, my time was limited. If I hadn’t left with you, I doubt I would have made it much longer.”

She fired. “Did I hit it?”

He cocked an eyebrow. “What were you aiming for?”

“The water.” She grinned.

He chuckled. “I’m pretty sure you killed it.”

She poured more powder into the barrel and promptly fumbled the ball. It fell on her foot and rolled across the deck. Using one of Joshen’s favorite curse words, she limped after it.

When she finally caught the ball, she looked up to find Reden watching her, one side of his mouth crooked up.

“Go ahead and laugh,” she said with a frown.

He held his hand over his mouth. “I’m not laughing.”

She considered throwing the musket ball at his head. Instead, she finished loading the pistol and fired. Despite the wool, her ears rang.

“Not bad. I want you to practice midmorning and midday to increase your speed, until the movements become habit.” He studied her. “Why did Joshen take you below decks?”

She rubbed her face. “He bought me a horse. A gorgeous, fast, dangerous horse.”

Reden’s brow rose. “The palomino?”

She nodded.

Reden took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Well, the man knows his horses.”

If any woman in love with Joshen had to love horses by default, maybe that extended to his friends, too.

“Reden?” she said softly. “Joshen doesn’t want me to be here.”

Reden studied her sidelong. “How so?”

She fired again. “He doesn’t want me going to Tarten. I’m not sure he can deal with all this.”

“Give him some time. He’s still trying to find his footing—to figure out how to balance protecting you with letting you go into dangerous situations.”

Someone cleared his throat behind them. “When you’re moving forward, you have to aim a little behind the target to compensate for the ship’s speed.” Senna recognized Joshen’s voice. She turned to find him watching her, his arms crossed over his chest and his expression tense.

Senna rubbed her forehead in frustration.

Reden nodded towards her pistol. “Keep practicing. I’ll be right back.”

He took Joshen’s arm and steered him away.

Senna looked around for another ball to load in the pistol. Reden must have taken them with him. She tentatively approached the hatch.

She could see the edge of Reden’s back and hear his tense voice. “Fine. Don’t tell me what happened. But I’ll tell you this as your friend, you’re losing her.”

“I’m trying to protect her!”

“You’re her Guardian. You protect her from
danger.
You can question her plans, her choices, but you don’t threaten her. You don’t force her. You follow where she leads and clean up what you can.”

“Even if it kills her?” Joshen’s voice had grown threatening.

Reden didn’t back down. “Being a Witch means putting herself in danger for the world’s sake if needs be. That’s why they have Guardians.”

Joshen didn’t speak for a moment. “I love her, Reden. I can’t stand by and watch her nearly die. Not again.”

“So it’s selfishness, is it?”

“What? No, I—”

“You can’t stand watching her get hurt so you betrayed her trust? ’Cause that sounds like selfishness to me.”

Joshen was silent. “I can’t risk her.”

“She’s already at risk. Accept it and stop being a fool, before it’s too late.”

Reden turned to go up the stairs and caught Senna watching. He gave her a reprimanding look.

She retreated back to the side of the ship before Joshen could see her. “You took all the balls,” she said sheepishly.

Glancing at the pouch at his hip, Reden grunted. “So I did.”

“Thanks for speaking with him.”

Reden nodded. “You two need each other.” He gestured for Joshen to join them. “You know the pistol well enough. Let’s see how you do in combat.”

Over the next few hours, Joshen taught her how to escape a hold. Specifically, how to block a gag by holding her wrist to her lips. The goal was to protect her song, which would be her primary weapon.

The hurt between them was like a slow poison. Cleansing it would take time, and time was something neither of them had. So they studiously ignored their pain.

Joshen drilled the same four sequences over and over.

“Can’t we learn something new?” Senna finally asked.

He circled her. “No time. Better you learn a few things well.”

At lunch time, Senna was relieved for an excuse to stop. She retrieved food for the four of them, making a cup of soothing tea for Mistin’s throat.

Joshen helped her carry it to where Mistin was singing even more croakily than normal. Reden stood beside her and didn’t seem to mind the sound at all. She finished the verse and he said something. She laughed, a sound that was beautiful even if her voice was not. He noticed them and touched Mistin’s elbow. She took the tea with obvious gratitude.