Her mother groaned as if the words pained her. “I hope you’re better.”
Senna kissed her mother’s cheek. It tasted salty. “I love you.”
Sacra tried to smile. “And I you.”
Senna could tell her mother’s thoughts were far away. That was probably a good thing. If she were paying attention, she might realize Senna was trying to say goodbye.
Senna went to her room and gathered her things in her battered satchel. Then she refilled her seed belt and wrapped it around her waist. Back downstairs, she paused at the door. “The chesli harvest will start soon.”
Her mother waved her on. “You go on without me. I’ll be along eventually.”
For the first time, Senna understood why her mother had hidden her away in the hell that was Gonstower. Had kept her ignorant and alone. And Senna forgave her for it, as she hoped her mother would forgive her for putting her heart at risk of being shattered, this time so badly she could never put it back together.
14. Thievery
Reden, Hesten, and Senna cut through air thick with shimmering bits of pollen. Heavier pieces fell around them like mist, touching the edges of their clothes with luminosity.
Senna threw occasional glances at her arms, checking to make sure she wasn’t glowing again. To her relief, her skin remained dull, except for the shining specks sticking to the tiny hairs on her arms.
Prenny’s tree house was in sight. Not much farther and Senna would slip inside while the Guardians kept watch. Then they would take one of the boats and escape into the night.
Of course, it was never that simple.
“Brusenna?”
Startled, she looked up to see Prenny pulling her door shut behind her, a freshly refilled lantern in hand. “You don’t have a lick of pollen on your hands. Do you think you’re above working in the fields now?” Prenny turned on Reden before Senna could respond. “And you two? If you’ve nothing else to do, I need some help reaching the higher plants.” She latched onto Reden’s injured arm.
His face tightened with pain, but he didn’t pull away. “We’ve work to do, Head.”
“At this hour of the night? Not likely. Besides, no work is more important than the chesli harvest. You two will come with me.” She looked over her shoulder. “Keep up, Senna.” Within moments, they were in the midst of the Witches again.
“Get to work,” Prenny said to Senna as she caught an older Apprentice’s attention. “Dorri, don’t let her out of your sight.”
Reden glanced at Senna, and she saw the indecision in his face. He didn’t want to leave her alone or delay their escape, but he didn’t want to raise Prenny’s suspicions, either. “Don’t go off by yourself,” he said to Senna.
Who knew how long it would be before Reden escaped from Prenny. In comparison, eluding Dorri would be as easy as pushing a needle through wool.
Hunched over the plants, the Apprentice glowered at Senna. “Well, get to work.”
It wasn’t long before Senna had her chance. While the others gathered around for a water break, she put a tree between them and stole away. The windows of Penny’s enormous four-story tree house remained dark. Senna removed the key from the ring so their clanking didn’t draw attention. Moving like a shadow, she crept through the foliage. At the bottom of the steps, she hesitated before lifting her skirt and running up the last few steps.
Her heart hammering in her temples, she slid the key into the lock. It turned with a loud click. She pulled on the hammered metal latch, and the door opened with a groan. After slipping inside, she shut the door softly behind her and hurried to the parlor. At the oval-shaped window, she pulled the heavy drapes closed. Moving by memory, she felt her way toward the stove.
Her foot collided with the corner of a dark lump of furniture in an explosion of pain. Biting back her curse, she hobbled the last few steps and set down a candle nub—plain tallow instead of anything scented that Prenny might notice. Senna lit the candle in the glowing coals of the fire. It flared, orange swallowed by yellow that stained her aftervision with an ethereal glow.
She limped to the cabinet. In the candle’s soft light, she saw her reflection in the glass, a ghost who wore guilt on her face. Her dark gold hair seemed to ripple with red and orange, making her an eerie likeness to the candle. Her golden eyes glinted a darker topaz.
Ignoring her specter, she took out a smaller key, inserted it into the cabinet’s tiny lock, and opened the cabinet. Her clammy hands left a damp imprint that immediately began to fade.
Senna set down ten glass vials from inside her satchel. Each cork pulled free with an accusatory pop. After wiping her hands on her dress, she reached for the first potion—Ioa. She filled her smaller vials from Prenny’s beakers, then placed each vial in her satchel. The beaker she carefully replaced on its dust-free circle on the shelf.