Witch Born(27)

Senna’s heart sank. This was about the strength of her song? “But my song is only a part of me, only one kind of strength.” Didn’t anyone ever look beyond a Witch’s song?

“It’s the way things are, Senna. The way they have always been,” Coyel said gently.

“Well, maybe it’s time we started doing the right thing instead of following tradition. A Head should be chosen based on her abilities to lead, not her power.”

Coyel raised a single eyebrow. “A good many of the Witches don’t look to Arianis. They look to you.”

Some of the Witchlings, perhaps a few others. But that didn’t mean anything. Not really. They looked to Senna because she’d freed them. They didn’t see that she had been defeated by Espen, just as they all had. The only thing that had saved her was the Creator’s interference.

“I’m not what they think I am.” The words fluttered out of Senna’s mouth like wounded butterflies.

Coyel gave a sad smile. “We are never as bad or as good as others believe. We just are.”

Senna couldn’t understand the sudden swelling of emotion inside her. Maybe she should stay here. In a few years, she’d have enough power to really change things. She could make sure an entire nation was never cursed again.

Coyel opened her mouth and spoke, but Senna couldn’t hear her. There was a discordant screech. Senna clapped her hands over her ears, trying to block out the awful sound.

Coyel leaned in, her lips moved, but Senna couldn’t make out the words over the shrieking. Judging by the confusion and concern on Coyel’s face, Senna was the only one who could hear it.

The sound faded away.

“Senna? Senna, what is it?”

Before Senna could answer, Witch song rang from the clearing.

An earth tremor comes.

“Why didn’t Drenelle send a runner?” Coyel shot to her feet and pulled Senna up. “Come! To the Ring of Power!”

They hustled over roots and around the tree. Senna burst out of the foliage and nearly ran into Arianis. The girl was breathing hard and gripping her cloak so hard her knuckles had bleached white. Her face looked open, vulnerable.

She stared at Coyel with such a look of betrayal Senna had to look away. “Drenelle sent me to warn you, about the tremor, but…” She trailed off when she seemed to realize they already knew about the tremor. Turning, she ran in the opposite direction of the clearing.

“Arianis,” Senna called.

Coyel’s voice went oddly breathless. “I never wanted her to find out like that.”

Senna took a step to go after Arianis.

“Leave her,” Coyel commanded.

Feeling a little sick, Senna turned to follow the Head.

Before she’d gone a dozen steps, the earth bucked violently beneath her. Senna fell, a scream on her lips, but the sound was lost in the deafening noise as everything shuddered and shook. With a crystalline shattering, all the windows broke. Tree branches and glass rained down on her. She curled into a ball with her arms over her head.

Slowly, the thundering settled to a rumble before stopping altogether. When it was over, Senna found herself on the path, her lip stinging. She tasted blood. Feeling something hard with her probing tongue, she found a splinter and pulled it from her lip. She was lucky it hadn’t stabbed her in the eye.

She surveyed the damage. One of the largest trees had split down the middle, leaving the rooms inside exposed—incredibly, the table still held an unspilled jar of milk. Nearly every window in sight was broken. Tree branches and sparkling bits of glass littered the ground. Doors hung ajar. Everywhere, Witches were getting to their feet.

In seconds, Joshen was there, pulling Senna upright. “You all right?”

She nodded dumbly. The world shook again, but not nearly as violently. Gripping his shirt, she watched as the milk sloshed in the jar, spilling over the sides. She vowed to never complain about her Guardian detail again.

The world finally stilled.

“You’re bleeding.”

She licked blood from her upper lip. “Just a little.”

Coyel was already up again and running toward the Ring of Power.

Hurrying after her, Senna scrambled over a fallen branch the size of a small horse. Just past it, a basket of wet laundry was partially crushed. A Witch dress created a ring of damp dirt around it. At first, Senna didn’t notice the limp hand still curled around it.

Joshen knelt beside the tree and peered down. He closed his eyes and turned away. “She’s gone.”

Senna didn’t want more memories to seed her nightmares. She kept running.

The Witches were singing. That meant the barrier was up. Nothing and no one could cross until the singing stopped. Drenelle was in the center, singing in her rich alto, which sounded much better than her speaking voice. Other Witches gathered outside the circle, waiting like Senna and Coyel.