Senna’s mind seemed to empty of all thought. “What? Why?”
Mistin shook her head. “I don’t know. The meeting has probably already started. Come with me.”
Senna followed without question. At the Council Tree, she entered with only a slight hesitation. In the center of the room was a large desk. Behind the desk were a set of spiral stairs.
Mistin shifted from one foot to the other. “She’s up there with them now.”
Senna shifted in embarrassment. But Mistin had risked her place on Haven to give Senna this chance. She wasn’t going to squander that. Nor would she wait for someone to tell her what was going on. She slipped off her boots.
Mistin took a letter from her desk. “I’m to deliver this missive to Leader Reden.” She paused just before the door and whispered so quietly Senna barely heard, “Good luck.” She gave Senna a meaningful look before pushing the door shut behind her.
Boots in hand, Senna eased silently up the stairs and slipped inside the Council Room. She’d been inside twice before—when she’d plead for the Heads to lift the curse on Tarten and when she’d accidentally sung the Relocation Song. Neither time had been pleasant.
She heard voices coming from the other side of the door. But she couldn’t make out their words, only that they were angry. Steeling herself, she pressed her ear against the wood.
“I’m her mother!”
“Sacra, please, you—” Senna recognized Coyel’s voice.
“I will not! You’ve no right to keep her here.”
“It’s not safe for her to leave,” Chavis said.
“And staying here is?” her mother growled. “Someone attacked her!”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Prenny’s old-sounding voice answered. “We’ve brought in over twenty Guardians. She’s perfectly safe. Besides, she needs to learn.”
“I’ll teach her,” Sacra said.
Prenny snorted. “Like you taught her before.”
There was a brief silence. “That was a mistake. I won’t repeat it.”
In her scratchy voice, Drenelle asked, “What does Senna want? Has anyone bothered to ask her?”
Senna was surprised to hear words of concern from Drenelle.
“What she needs is more important than what she wants,” her mother said.
Senna gripped her boots so tight the leather squeaked in protest.
“The answer is still no.” Then Coyel’s voice softened. “She’s nearly a woman, Sacra. You can’t force her to leave.”
“And if the past repeats itself?” her mother asked so quietly Senna had to strain to hear. When no one answered, her mother’s voice gained strength. “All of Haven couldn’t stop what happened then. But perhaps, far away from everything, I could—
“Oh, this is absolutely ridiculous,” Prenny said. “Sacra, you’re two henn extracts short of a trible potion.”
“By the Creators, what’s that supposed to mean?” Chavis asked.
“It means your argument is like a three-legged horse. A two-legged dog. A one-legged man.”
“Stop,” Coyel commanded. “I’m sorry, Sacra, but the answer is no. You may not take Senna from Haven.”
“Even if she wishes to go?” Her mother’s voice sounded broken.
The Heads murmured.
“Even then,” Coyel said above them.
Those words sent Senna scurrying down the stairs. In the parlor, she thrust her feet into her boots and shoved the laces inside the tongue. Boots clomping, she bolted through the door just as footsteps started down the stairs.
At the path, she tried to act normally as Coyel’s muffled voice leaked through the closed door. “Mistin? Oh, where is that girl! Every time I need a messenger, she just up and—”
The door groaned as it opened. Her mother’s voice overrode the Head’s. “Brusenna?”
Schooling her expression, Senna turned.
Her mother shut the door firmly behind her. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m on my way to meet Joshen for lunch.”
Her mother pursed her lips. “Where were you this morning?”
“I left early for the library.” Senna was surprised at how easily the lies rolled past her lips.
Sacra pulled her a little way off the path. “I need to speak with you.”
“About?”
“Brusenna, are you…happy here?”
Senna crossed her arms over her chest. “Yes.”
Her mother smoothed back Senna’s hair. “You don’t seem happy?”
A pang stabbed through Senna’s heart at her mother’s touch. She had the sudden urge to tell her mother that everywhere she went, the other Witches stared at her. Every time she fell short of anyone’s expectations, she let down those who believed in her and validated those who didn’t. Sometimes she felt like the Heads had set her up to fail. “I’m happier than I’ve ever been anywhere else.” That was more than she could say of their isolated, persecuted existence in Gonstower.