He flinched as if Senna’s words had burned him. And through the link, she could tell they had.
“If we leave now, we can warn the Guardians. They can reach the cliffs,” she said more gently.
Cord lowered his head. He’d known what her answer would be when he freed her, and he’d come anyway. “I have to take you back with me, Senna.”
Impulsively, she took his hand. “Come with me to Haven! Help me save them.”
“You go back and you’ll die with them. And that’s if they don’t throw you in a cellar to rot first.”
“I can only control my actions, not their reactions,” Senna replied. “But I have to live with both.”
He opened his mouth to argue, but voices spoke, close enough she could make out their words over the tempest. Cord pressed her against the mast.
“You may come with me or not, but I’m going,” she said right in his ear.
He felt her despair, as she felt his. He peeked around the mast and said in a harsh whisper, “I could stop you.”
Her breath came fast. “I saved your life. And in return, you have done nothing but hurt and violate me. You owe me this.”
He winced as if she’d punched him. “I just saved you. We’re even.”
She stared at him as water ran down both their faces. “We’ll never be even. If you truly loved me, you wouldn’t have stolen everything I cared about. You wouldn’t stop me from saving the people I love.”
Cord gazed at her as if seeing into her soul, and she realized he was probing the link. “But you love Joshen?”
She felt herself dying inside. “You and Ellesh took him away long before the Tartens killed him. You know that.” It was the truth, much as she loathed to admit it.
He slowly nodded. “All right. But change us quickly.”
Senna hauled her sopping-wet dress over her head and knelt shivering in her shift. Cord ripped off the Tarten red and stood before her, his chest glistening with rain and ocean spray.
She sang softly so the sound of her words wouldn’t reach the Tartens. Her lips tingling with the power of the potion, she rubbed the oils off them and drew lines of the residue from Cord’s forehead to his navel, her finger sliding effortlessly across his hard body.
He looked at her, his eyes hungry, and she realized the water had turned her shift nearly transparent, so much so that she could see the faint outline of her crescent-moon tattoo through the cloth. Cord gripped her face in his big, warm hands. He tipped forward and pressed his lips against hers. The warmth of it was overwhelming, but Senna could only see Joshen, think of Joshen.
“I had to know what that felt like.” Cord pulled back and looked into her eyes. Sadness seeped through the link. Her thoughts had betrayed her. “Someday, you’ll only think of me when I kiss you.”
The idea sent a stab of grief through her. She tipped her head back and watched him. Was he really in love with her? She didn’t think so. With the idea of her, maybe, but not really with her. “It wasn’t the first time we’ve kissed.”
He grunted. “That doesn’t count. You tricked me.” He released her as a shudder of pain took him. The Ioa was beginning to work.
Quickly, Senna sang the potion for herself. She dragged a line of potion down the center of her body.
Cord doubled over, a groan slipping from between his lips.
“What was that?” a voice asked.
A man rounded the mast and gaped at them before reaching for his sword. “What are you doing with the prisoner?”
In one smooth movement, Cord threw his knife. With a grunt, the man collapsed. A second man shouted for help. In two steps, Cord had the knife in his hand again, and the second man’s warning fell silent.
His skin rippling, Cord clenched his jaws shut, a barely contained scream thick in his throat.
More Tartens rushed them. Cord fought them off, his knives flashing. Senna’s skin shivered. She felt the first tremor in her bones. She grabbed Cord’s arm. “Quick! Before it’s too late.”
Keeping her behind him, he backed them toward the banister.
“The Witch is escaping!” Someone yelled.
Wrapping her arms around Cord’s middle, Senna threw them both over the side of the ship.
32. Velveten
Senna’s bones thinned and elongated as she plummeted. Half-transformed, she hit the surface so hard her skin stung as if she’d fallen into a bed of nettles. Her bones reformed as she writhed in the sea’s cold embrace. Slowly, so slowly, the pain receded. For the first time in hours, she didn’t feel bone-deep cold.
Righting herself, she gathered her bearings. The sea was dark and full of bubbles, making it difficult to see and harder to swim. The current yanked her furiously this way and that.