She opened her mouth to speak, but emptiness rushed in. She closed it and tried again. “I’m sorry, Joshen. I didn’t mean—”
Joshen gave a halfhearted smile and offered her his hand. “I know. Come with me.” She followed him away from the sparring field.
“Where are we going?”
“I’m doing my best to help you. You keep running off and taking these unnecessary risks.” Joshen’s jaw was set. “Senna, you’re one Witch. It would take all of them to lift the curse.”
Senna was so tired. “But I’m so much stronger now. I think I can lift at least some of it.”
“And then Haven would just reinstate it and you would be banished,” he said gently.
She dropped her head.
He sighed. “Just let it go for now. All right?”
Not wanting to argue, she nodded.
They stepped into a triangle of sunshine not far from Haven’s cliffs, which rose up before them, higher than even Haven’s tallest trees and impossibly circular. In a few places, part of the carved face had collapsed, leaving cones of scree butting up against the black rock. Senna saw occasional pieces of carvings—an eye here, part of a sun, even a bit of a foot. In the center of these shattered pieces of Witch history were straw targets.
There were a few muskets resting against a nearby tree’s roots. Joshen picked one up and started loading it. “I want you to practice until loading and firing comes as naturally as walking.”
Her heart pounding irregularly, Senna’s gaze darted between the musket and Joshen. Her hand closed around the puckered scar on her upper arm, a gift from the Witch Hunter, Wardof, and his musket.
Joshen’s mouth tightened at her reaction.
Senna took a step back, her heart hammering in her throat. “I–maybe another time. I have another class.”
“Not for nearly an hour, you don’t. And it’s only singing practice, which you often skip.”
There were disadvantages to Joshen knowing her schedule so well.
He pulled a pistol from his holster. “Try with this. It’ll be better for you anyway. More discreet. Easier to pack.”
“Joshen…”
“My job is to keep you safe, but that’s your job too. You should know how to protect yourself.” He nodded toward her seed belt. “And I want you to carry a knife from now on. I know you have one.”
Her mouth set, she took the pistol. It was heavier than she thought it’d be. Gripping it with her injured hand pulled uncomfortably at her stitches. She was glad she hadn’t picked up the musket. They were heavy.
She’d watched her Guardians load enough guns to have the basics down.
Joshen helped her measure the powder and gave gentle nudges, showing her how to stand. How to aim down the barrel and line up her target between the little notch on the end. How to let her breath out and hold still as stone. How to squeeze the trigger in one gentle pull.
They practiced until her arm was numb, her ears rang, and her hands were sooty with black powder.
Joshen nodded. “That’ll do for today.” He pushed the loaded pistol into one of the extra loops on her seed belt and handed her a horn of black powder and a pouch of balls. “You’ll have to fill the pan before it will fire.”
He watched her reaction carefully. “You need to be ready to use it, Senna. You need to make the decision that if someone tries to hurt you or someone else, you’ll do whatever you must to stop them. If you’re not, you’ll hesitate. And hesitation will kill you.”
She felt the weight of the gun on her hip and imagined a person between the notch at the end of the barrel, gently squeezing the trigger the way Joshen had shown her. And just like that, someone would be dead or dying.
“Can you do it?” Joshen asked her.
It was an enormous decision to resolve to kill someone—to come to the conclusion your life had more value than theirs. A hard choice, but easy, too. Hard because she valued life. All life. Easy because that included her own. “I can.”
8. Earth Tremor
The next morning, Senna received a summons to meet Coyel at her home. The Head answered the door on the first knock. “Let’s meet outside, shall we?” Coyel said. “It’s such a lovely day.”
They circled around the tree and entered a beautiful garden, thick with the smell of herbs and flowers. The Head of Sunlight settled onto her tree’s tangled knot of roots and gestured for Senna to sit beside her. A bit of sun leaked through the leaves. Coyel tilted her face toward it, seeming to soak it in like she was a plant herself.
Senna took a deep breath. “What’s happening to me? Why am I changing? Why am I in danger?”