She could hold more song, but she sensed she had enough to move the island and more. There had been enough violence, enough death, for one day. With a few soothing words, she calmed the sea and the storm. Hesitantly, those on the ships left shelter and stepped onto the decks. A few more moments, and sailors and soldiers poured from the holds. Senna pressed a gentle wind against the ships, pushing them back to safety.
But the Tartens and Caldashans stubbornly tied up their sails and threw anchor.
So be it.
Her voice rang across the island and sea like the clearest bells. Sailors on the ships dropped to their knees. Some threw down their weapons.
Senna’s heart sang with hope. But then the men’s commanders started shooting those who resisted. Senna cried out in horror. More men dropped to their knees or threw their weapons into the sea. And more of them died. The cannons started firing modified anchors again.
Tears streaming down her face at what she was about to do, she sang.
Haven, raise thy stakes.
Winds, a path to make.
Earth, compact thy soil.
Plants, thy roots uncoil.
Waters, thy waves divide.
Take us to a home we can abide.
The barrier began to twist around the island, slowly at first, then faster and faster until everything was a blur of color and motion. Senna pulled the barrier in until it fit snugly against the cliffs, sheering off some of the rough edges, making them smooth as glass. Senna finally understood why the island had always been such an unnaturally perfect circle.
But she was not within it. The song to move the island only worked from the outside. And when it was gone, she would remain behind with nothing waiting below her but chaos.
She sang again, and the world grew brighter. She blinked against the blinding light coming from below. Confused, she held out her hands to shield her eyes, only to find they were the source.
She gaped as strange filigrees of light, like honey with glittering bits of sugar, swirled from her skin. As the song within her grew, so did the lights—almost as if the songs were spilling from her. She looked out. Witches and Tartens alike had paused in their fighting. All of them were turned toward her.
The ships stopped firing at the cliffs. The commanders stopped shouting orders. The world held its breath.
“Brusenna!”
In the stillness, someone called her name from the ships. She searched among them until she saw a knot of Tartens. Grendi stood in the front, her beautiful dress torn and her hair hanging in limp knots. In her stance, Senna saw defeat. Grendi had lost, and she knew it. Knew she was going to die.
“I’ve won.” Senna’s words came out as a song.
At a gesture from Grendi, the soldiers behind her thrust two men forward. Senna squinted at them.
Grendi grabbed handfuls of their hair and pulled their heads back. They were bloody and beaten, so bruised and swollen they were nearly unrecognizable as men.
But then one of them locked gazes with Senna. He was too far away to make out details like the gray color of his eyes, or the way his skin wrinkled when he smiled. But she knew the way he moved like she knew the melody of the wind.
Joshen. And beside him must be Reden. They were alive!
Grendi had to scream to be heard. “You move the island and they’ll die with us.”
Senna shook her head. When she’d faced Espen so long ago, she’d declared that if she had to choose between the world and Joshen, she would choose Joshen.
She looked down at Haven, at the Witches who were still singing to keep the barrier intact. They would all die if she let it go.
Her gaze found Joshen again.
“They’ll kill me anyway!” he shouted.
One of the Tartens cuffed him.
Senna cried out. Either way she chose, people she loved would die. Joshen had all of her courage and none of her powers. He’d risked everything, suffered so much. He had more heart, more bravery than she did.
She searched for a familiar face on the ships, but she couldn’t find Krissin. Her heart wringing inside her, she cried out, “This is what your Composer has aligned herself with? This is the choice you force upon me?”
A shudder convulsed through her. The wind grew weaker. She sang softly, strengthening it. When she looked up, she knew what she had to do. She had to have as much courage as Joshen.
In the space of a blink, angry gray clouds boiled in the sky. Senna hurled down a barrage of lightning, striking Grendi’s ship and the soldiers on it.
Joshen and Reden rolled away from their captors. Reden swept up a sword from a fallen soldier. They limped to the other side of the ship, where Joshen worked at their bonds. The ship exploded beneath them as the fire reached the gunpowder. A wave swept them off the burning ship.
Senna bit her knuckle as she watched them, so small and helpless against the might of the freezing waters. And then she saw a boat moving toward them. Inside was a small girl with dark hair. Mistin.