He shook his head ruefully. “That was definitely one of those times when I should have ignored you.”
She swatted his arm. He grinned and leaned towards her. She took a step back and his grin slipped.
Someone shouted for her from above. A sailor peeked down the stairs. “Brusenna, Leader Reden is looking for you.”
Joshen motioned for her to go. “I’ve got to tend the horses anyway.”
She sighed. “We’ll finish this later.”
19. A Guardian’s Sacrifice
Senna emerged from the ship’s hold and blinked into the sunshine. Stepping onto the deck, she promptly strode on the hem of her dress and pitched forward. Right into a pair of strong arms. “Oh, I’m sorry!”
The unfamiliar man steadied her but made no move to let her go. She looked up and lost herself in nearly black eyes of a tall, golden-skinned man with long dark hair tied back with a string. His beauty stunned her. Her heart hammered, but not just because of his looks. This was…something else.
“Senna?” Reden said.
She sprang away from the stranger’s arms and wiped her suddenly sweaty hands on her dress.
Mistin jogged up to them. She had changed from an Apprentice’s plain green dress to a loose-fitting tunic and trousers. “Senna, have you met my brother?”
Her face burning under Reden’s scrutiny, Senna shook her head.
“Cord, this is Brusenna, but she goes by Senna because she wants to be new and better.”
His eyes were still locked on her. She saw the resemblance. He had Mistin’s almond-shaped eyes, though his face had sharper planes. He was shorter than Joshen but taller than Reden, with a wiry build. His dark eyes seemed to weigh everything around him. And they were weighing Senna.
She cleared her throat. “Do I know you? You seem familiar?”
He grinned and his face went from brooding to handsome in a moment, but it was a dangerous kind of handsome. Senna could tell he used his beauty like a tool—an adept tool. “I think I’d remember meeting you.”
Mistin glared at him. He turned his dazzling smile on her. She rolled her eyes. “Ignore him. He’s a bit of a flirt.”
Reden cleared his throat. “If you two will excuse Senna and me.”
Mistin grabbed Cord’s arm and hauled him towards the bow.
Reden watched them walk away. “He doesn’t just want to help us. He wants to be your Guardian.”
Senna lifted an eyebrow. “Another one?”
Reden shrugged. “We could use the help.”
She studied Cord. “Is he any good?”
“He’s somewhat competent.” Reden said something in Tarten.
Senna glanced askance at him. “What does that mean?”
He hesitated. “A poor soldier’s worse than no soldier.”
Senna absorbed this before saying the words that had been bearing down on her since they’d left the island. “Why did you come with us?” she asked softly. “Because of me, you lost your place as commander of the Tarten armies. And now you’ve lost the Leadership of the Guardians as well.”
He spoke carefully. “We teach our Guardians to protect their witches—sometimes from their own folly. That includes the Heads. Three times, you were attacked by strangers on the island. I’m convinced someone with a lot of power is helping them. That means there’s a traitor. And if there’s a traitor, there’s some kind of treachery afoot.”
He studied her, his gaze steady. “It all comes back to you, Senna. You’re the key to this. So I’m going to follow your lead.” He rested his hand on her shoulder. “I’ll be Leader of the Guardians again, because we’re going to save the Witches from their own foolishness.”
She tried not to wince. “Are we doing the right thing?” After all, she’d betrayed those who trusted her. Had risked her mother’s happiness and Joshen’s love.
“One can’t sacrifice a higher law for a lower one.”
She stared at him.
Reden nodded to himself. “When you’re in that moment of decision, where right and wrong are so mixed up you can’t tell which is which, always remember to follow the higher law.”
It’s what he’d done when he’d sacrificed his home country for the world. “But how do you know which law is higher?”
“It’s usually the decision that’s harder at first, but better in the long run.”
She digested that quietly.
He rested a hand on her back. “Now, how about we lend these sailors a hand mending the sails?”
Senna glanced at him, startled. “You can sew?”
He chuckled. “If I didn’t mend my clothes, who would?”