Witch Born(9)

His keen eyes seemed to bore into Senna. And he wasn’t the only one staring. Senna became aware of dozens of eyes watching them. Clearly reluctant to obey Arianis’ attempts to shoo them back to their seats, Witchlings peeked out the window and door of the tree. Senna felt the weight of their stares like stones in her pockets.

“I need to borrow your student, Apprentice.” Reden gripped Senna’s arm and steered her away.

Arianis’ eyes narrowed to slits, and Senna could see her trying to come up with some reason to deny his request. But Reden only answered to Chavis and the other Heads. Not to upstart Apprentices.

“Fine, but I want an oral report on Harshen mountains and trade routes, due tomorrow,” Arianis said.

She no doubt knew how much Senna loathed public speaking. But it was a small price, one she’d gladly pay for the chance to be with Joshen again.

Before either Guardian pelted her with a barrage of questions, she told them of feeling like someone was watching her the night of her attack. The secrets whispered in an abandoned tree house. Being attacked by the two men. Her narrow escape. The terrifying trip back into the darkness with the Heads. “I took them back the next morning. All we found was broken vegetation and some bloody soil to go with the slingshot.”

Reden pursed his lips. “You realize they were after you? You’re the captive.”

Senna’s head spun. “No—that’s not possible.”

Joshen raked his hands through his hair. “How do we know they didn’t simply attack her because she overheard them?”

Reden scanned the trees around them. “If that were the case, she’d be dead. Instead, they tried to subdue her. That means they wanted to take her alive. The question is why.”

“Maybe they just didn’t want to kill anyone,” she murmured.

Reden’s expression hardened. “You don’t come on a mission like this unprepared to kill someone.”

Joshen nodded westward. “The Tartens? But why would they want Senna?”

Reden shook his head. “We don’t know it was the Tartens. As for why someone wants her, we don’t know that, either.”

She stared in the distance without seeing anything. “Their accents didn’t sound Tarten.”

“What did they sound like?” Reden asked.

Shuddering, she tried to match the accents to anything else she’d heard. She was usually good with all kinds of inflection, but she was pretty sure she hadn’t heard this one before. “I don’t know.”

Reden ground his teeth. “Is your Witch song as strong as they say it is?”

Senna lowered her gaze. Her song had always been exceedingly strong, but since the Creators had gifted her with the Dark Witch’s song, the power of her voice had shot up like a summer weed. “Yes.”

Reden hesitated. “The Heads have searched the island. They believe whoever attacked you is gone. I’m not so sure.”

Joshen grunted in agreement. “This place has more burrows than a field full of gophers.”

Senna pressed her hands into her stomach, just over the crescent-moon tattoo that circled her navel and marked her as a Witch.

Reden eyed the foliage between the trees. Senna tried to see it as he would—cover for anyone sneaking around the island instead of a beautiful byproduct of hundreds of daily songs.

“I tried to convince them to move the island,” he said. “They refused, claiming the Witches’ numbers are too low to attempt it. Nor do they believe they are in any real danger.”

Senna halted. “But the man said—”

Reden held out a forestalling hand. “I know. But the Heads trust in their walls and their songs to protect them.”

Senna’s wounded hand pounded in rhythm with her racing heart. “So they won’t do anything?”

Reden gestured to Joshen. “I convinced them to bring Guardians onto the island to watch the entrance and send out patrols. That way there will be no more men sneaking inside.”

Senna’s mouth fell open. Men had never been allowed on the island for longer than a few days. That the Heads had agreed to let the Guardians stay spoke volumes of their fear.

Reden started off again, and Senna fell into step beside Joshen. She didn’t know where the two were going, and she didn’t care, as long as she was with Joshen.

“Will they let you Guard me now?” she asked him.

His jaw was tight. “No. They say safeguarding the entrance should be enough to keep you safe, and my presence would only distract you from your studies. Besides, it’s against the rules.”

She managed a tight smile. It wasn’t enough, but that Joshen was here at all was a miracle. “They’re probably right—you would distract me.”