Witch Born(44)
Senna closed her eyes. “No. I meant we can’t take him with us. He’ll try to stop me.”
Reden studied her. “You’re sure?”
She took a steadying breath. “Very sure.”
He gave a curt nod. “Then we won’t bring him.”
Just as simple as that, she’d abandon the only family she had left, and her betrothed. Haven wasn’t perfect, but it was the only home she’d ever been willing to fight for. If they banished her, she’d never be able to come back. “I’m not sure I can leave everything behind.”
“If you’re right, there might not be anything to return to.”
She bit her lip and pushed the thought aside. “They’ll banish us both. You know they will.”
His silence was answer enough. He wiped the scorch marks off his knife with a clean cloth and held the hot blade to his skin, his face set.
“Just stop!”
He looked at her with forced patience. “When we have everything settled, we can send for your mother and Joshen if you like.”
She shuddered. “I can’t go yet. There are potions and seeds I need.”
Reden worked his jaw, but he would know how important those items were. “Can you get them tonight?” he asked.
“The only person who has all of them is Prenny. The Witches are all over her house harvesting chesli tonight.” Senna tried not to wince. She’d stolen from Prenny before. She hated the thought of doing it again.
Reden finally lowered the knife. “How soon can you be ready?”
Senna sagged in relief. “Tomorrow is the second evening of the harvest. Everyone will have moved on to another part of the island. It should be safe to sneak in then. I can steal the potions and we can slip away.”
Reden slumped in his chair, clearly unhappy but resigned. “Very well. But only one more day. Whoever’s after you isn’t going to give up. We need to get out.”
Going to the shelf he indicated, she pulled down plants and potions she recognized. She poured salt water on Reden’s wound and wiped off the blood. The cut was clean, so it wouldn’t be hard to stitch, but touching him like this…it felt too intimate. “What will everyone think?”
“I imagine the Heads will think you’ve run off to save Tarten, which is partly true. Some might think we ran away together.” He showed no emotions at that.
Senna blushed and busied herself heating a needle over the flame.
Reden bit off the cork and took another pull.
“I can give you something stronger than whiskey,” she said.
“I need my wits about me.”
Her hands shaking, Senna closed the wound with five stitches. Sweat beaded on Reden’s face, and his muscles stood out, but he didn’t move or make a sound. Feeling sick, she wrapped the wound. Then she drooped in her chair and downed her tea in one swallow.
She eyed Reden’s whiskey, but figured her stomach wouldn’t be able to handle it. Not yet anyway. Standing on shaky legs, she said, “I’m tired. Take me home.”
Reden tossed his bloody shirt in a bucket of water. “No. You’re safer in the midst of Guardians. With me right outside your door.”
Not safe on Haven. She still couldn’t fathom it. “What about my mother?”
His expression remained neutral. “This isn’t the first time you’ve been out all night.”
Another blush burned up her cheeks. She really shouldn’t be surprised at Reden’s statement. He had just admitted to having his own spies on the island. Perhaps one had even spied on her. She considered telling him that nothing had happened, but that was not a conversation she wanted to have. Ever. Especially not with Reden. “She probably knows Joshen left.”
Reden drummed his fingers on the table then rose abruptly. “Is that pistol loaded?” She nodded. “Bolt the door after me.”
She rose on shaky feet and followed him. “What are you going to do?”
“I’ll send one of my Guardians to inform Sacra you are well but won’t be coming home.”
Senna folded her arms around her middle. “She won’t like that.”
He opened the door. “Bolt it.”
After securing it, she waited for some of the longest moments of her life. Reden’s whisper at the door nearly made her jump out of her boots. She let him in.
“There’s a bed upstairs,” he said. “Take it. I’ll sleep just outside your door.”
Senna opened her mouth to protest, but she couldn’t find the energy. She lifted her skirts and started up the stairs. She chose the room that was obviously unused. The last thing she did before going to bed was shove the back of a chair under the doorknob.