Why? She tried to respond, but her mouth still wouldn’t work.
She forced herself to push one foot in front of the other, swaying as if she were drunk. Her focus was slowly coming back. She climbed up a set of steps almost by herself. Why hadn’t Reden wanted anyone to see them? Why was he running away from help instead of towards it? She glanced around. They were in the Guardian quarter of the island, but she didn’t recognize the tree.
“Where are we?” Just forming words felt like a triumph.
He checked the door to the tree house, sighing in obvious relief when it slid open. “This is Timmus’ place—he’s gone with Joshen. We ought to be all right here.”
She looked at Reden. His expression was harsh—almost a grimace. He eased her into a chair and then hurried to bolt the door. Senna noticed a steady dripping. She followed the sound to see drops of blood falling from Reden’s fingers and scattering across the floor like jewels.
She came to her feet, determined to help him.
In two steps he was in front of her. “Sit down.”
She was suddenly nauseous. Her mouth started watering uncontrollably. “I’m going to throw up.”
Reden practically carried her to the dry sink.
She retched. He gripped her as if he expected her to fall at any moment. She was too miserable to be embarrassed.
When she finished, he guided her to a chair. She was hot and cold at the same time. He crouched before her and pulled her eyelids open. He stared cursing in Tarten. “Slings can kill a man. If I ever find the dung licker that hit you, I’ll show him firsthand.”
She almost snorted at the sound of Joshen’s favorite curse word on Reden’s tongue.
“Your eyes are fine,” the Guardian said.
He moved to a shelf. Questions collided with the doubts and fears swirling in Senna’s mind, but she couldn’t make herself care. She tipped her head back against the wall. She must have passed out again. When she opened her eyes, all she saw was a man standing before her with a knife.
Panic reared up inside her like a striking snake, its venom spilling out her pores. She let out a bloodcurdling scream. Startled, the man jumped back.
“Shh, Senna. Shh. I’m not going to hurt you.” He came at her with the knife.
She half sprang, half fell away from him. She screamed again.
Frustration plain on his face, he tossed the knife away. His hand closed over her mouth, cutting off her cries for help. She tried to bite, but he clamped her jaw closed.
She kicked and fought. All the times she’d been attacked before, all the times she’d been beaten and bound—all of it flashed in her memory as hot and harsh as lightning. She nearly choked on her sudden terror.
And then through her fear, she realized the man was whispering her name. “Senna. Shh, shh, Senna. Senna, shh. The knife was to stop the bleeding in my arm. I’d never hurt you. Shh.”
Then she remembered. Reden. Not her attacker. Her rescuer. How could she think he’d harm her? She went limp in his arms.
He slowly removed his hand. “Don’t scream again. All right? I don’t want anyone to know you’re here.”
Her head throbbed with each pulse of her heart. She cradled her head in her hands. “Why?”
Reden pushed himself to his feet. “Because I’m sure we lost your attacker. Right now, that’s your best defense.” She saw he wanted to help her up, but he was afraid to touch her. He cautiously held out his hand. “Senna, you have to know I’d never hurt you.”
She closed her eyes and tried to force her pounding heart to slow, to shove the panic back into whatever corner of her body it struck from. She started to nod, but stopped at the pain shooting across her skull. “I know. It’s just…”
Grimacing, Reden helped her back into the chair. “You don’t forget. You never forget. And with the bump on your head, you were confused.”
Reden would understand a person might live through a battle but carry the fear and terror with her for the rest of her life. Senna nodded.
“Drink your tea. And hold the compress to your bruise. Prenny supplied all the Guardians with them. They ought to be good.”
Senna dragged herself back into the chair. “Tea? When did you make tea? Or start a fire, for that matter.”
He poured himself a cup. “When you were out.”
She grunted. “If this is Timmus’ place, how do you know where everything is?”
Reden raised an eyebrow at her. “Inspections once a week. Discipline is the key of any army, and the Guardians are simply a very specialized army.”
Senna held the compress against her head and breathed deeply the strong smell of the herbs. “You were hit too?” She motioned to the blood crusting his head. He nodded and winced as if he regretted the movement.