She clenched her hands into fists. “No. Lilette said he was alive.”
Reden was silent a long time. “It’s been four months.”
Senna shook her head. “I know.”
“I’m sorry, Senna, but someone has to say it. What if he died after you left Lilette?”
She clutched the Creator’s promise that Joshen was alive. She just had to wait for him to come to her. She rubbed the pendant at the base of her throat. Please, Joshen, be alive. Find your way to me.
“I wish it would have been me,” Reden said softly. “Joshen was the better man.”
Senna spoke in a whisper. “He wasn’t perfect, Reden. None of us were. We all made mistakes.”
Reden stood there for a moment, as if hoping she might change her mind, admit Joshen was dead and take on a new Guardian.
Senna closed her eyes and listened. The music floating around her was so beautiful, it made her heart ache, but it was a lonely, sad kind of beautiful. Or perhaps it simply reflected her mood. But as the Witches’ singing continued, the hurricane settled and the music faded to nothing.
Finally, Reden sighed. “Have you walked today?”
She shook her head. “Not yet.” She held out her hands for him to help her up. She gritted her teeth and slowly let her bad leg take some of her weight. He helped her a few steps, until her hip had warmed up.
“Do you want me to make a round with you?”
She shook her head. “No. I’ll be all right.”
He made no move to leave. After taking her cane from him, she started out on her own. “Go.” She hated that he still didn’t leave, but stood watching her.
With the limp, drag, and tap of her cane, Senna started down the bridge that led to her favorite room in the tree houses. Her hip ached and sweat broke out across her face.
Finally, she reached the room. Bright murals were being painted on the walls. All of them reflected pivotal moments in Witch history, and Senna was in a good deal of them. She tried not to mind. After all, the Witches needed to remember the brink of destruction they’d played with.
As if of their own accord, her feet took her to her favorite wall. Smelling strongly of paint, the newly finished section depicted her standing at the pool with Lilette. Though Senna had done her best to describe the scene and the painter was brilliant, it was only a shadow of reality. She’d come back to save the Witches. Well, now they were saved, but she still didn’t have Joshen.
Moving a little farther down, she peered past the painters as they worked on the next wall, which depicted Joshen carrying her through Haven the night they’d escaped. His expression was fierce and protective. Her body ached with the need to be held by him.
She startled at a yip. A flustered Guardian she half recognized crossed a bridge toward her—she thought his name was Chan. In his arms was a squirming puppy. A wolfhound puppy. She froze, remembering Bruke.
The Guardian stopped before her and bowed. “Composer Brusenna, there’s a man at the gates who claims to know you. He insisted we let him up. Of course we couldn’t. He begged that this gift be brought to you. He said you would understand.”
Senna felt herself soften. She reached out and took the squirming puppy from the Guardian’s arms, her mind barely recognizing what her body was doing. It looked so much like Bruke that she caught his wiry fur in her hands and inhaled the warm smell of him. The puppy whined and struggled in her arms. She bent to set him down, wincing as her hip caught. He immediately squatted and piddled on the floor.
An inexplicable smile spread across her face.
The Guardian went cherry red. “Composer Brusenna, I’m so sorry.” He picked up the dog.
She took the puppy from him. The dog’s hot little body immediately settled in her arms. Handing her cane to the Guardian, she took his arm and let him help her back the way they’d come. “This man, what did he look like?”
The Guardian opened his mouth to answer, but Reden’s voice overrode him. “Senna?” He stepped onto the bridge, obviously looking for her.
“Yes?”
“Senna?”
That was another man’s voice, one she recognized. Her head feeling light, she leaned heavily against the Guardian. As if sensing her distress, the puppy licked her, his tongue leaving a cool spot on her skin.
Joshen stepped around Reden and started across the bridge toward her.
Her mouth came open, a small cry drifting from her like the last leaves of autumn. She was so overwhelmed she couldn’t move.
Obviously misinterpreting her cry, Chan moved between them and leveled his musket.
Joshen stopped, desperation on his beautiful face.
Reden rolled his eyes. “Stand down, Chan. This is Senna’s lost Guardian. He’s come back to her.”