Witch Song (Witch Song #1)

Chapter 23

23. MAN OF NIGHTMARES

 Umbrella over her luxurious hair, Ciara lead them to a covered carriage with cushioned seats and a fine pair of matched palominos. Spicy smells wafted through the open door, making Senna's nose tingle. The carriage barely rocked as Ciara climbed in and settled beside Joshen. Senna looked at the two, talking and eating Ciara's delicacies and wanted to strangle them both. Taking the opposite seat, she sank into her corner. With a gentle lurch, the carriage started forward.

 Joshen and Ciara continued eating and laughing, neither noticing Senna. In fact, Joshen was having so much fun whispering with Ciara—so the driver wouldn't hear them speaking in Nefalien—that Senna wished she could melt into the walls and disappear.

But more than anything, she wanted to go home. The closer she came to Espen's realm, the more seconds of her life ticked away.

The road wound around the enormous, domed mountains. With nothing else to do, Senna studied the countryside and its people through the gauzy rain. It seemed in Tartan, there were few Middlings and almost none of the Class. Most everyone was Boor.

"Ciara," Senna entered their conversation. The two seemed surprised she was there. "Where did you learn to speak Nefalien?"

Ciara sighed as she looked away. "My father was a Guardian. He married my mother during the war in Nefalie. After his Witch disappeared, he brought us to Tarten."

"He brought you back here?" Senna asked incredulously.

"Yes, but Mother was a Nefalien, so their marriage wasn't recognized. Officially, she was his concubine, which is why I never married. You see, though I have money and to spare, I haven't a legitimate birth." Her sad countenance melted like butter in the hot sun. "And now you know my ignominy," she said melodramatically.

Joshen and Ciara immediately restarted their conversation where they'd left off. Senna went back to her window. Eventually, the rain stopped again. Homes grew more frequent, the road more traveled. Soldiers passed them. She found herself trying to hide from any gaze that might stray through the window. The carriage slowed. "We are coming closer to the city gates. Both of you remain silent and act as conceited as possible," Ciara whispered. She looked Senna up and down, her brows creased in disapproval. "Poise, Senna. You're Class, remember?"

Grudgingly, Senna sat up straight and squared her shoulders. She didn't want to act like Ciara's 'Class'—snobbish and rich.

The carriage rolled to a stop. Senna's heart shot in her throat as a guard with a soldier's red tunic leaned in and spoke. Ciara lifted her dainty nose and replied. Senna did her best to act uninterested in the soldier's questions as her blood pounded in her fingertips. His face darkening, he motioned for them to step out. The huffiness in Ciara's voice increased. The guard jerked the door open and shouted an order.

Ciara faced them. The lines around her eyes betrayed her anxiety. She said something. Senna caught one word. "Cheche." The same word the farmer had used when he motioned for them to follow him, the same word Kaen's wife had used as she'd dragged Senna into her room. She suspected it meant "come."

The guard held open the carriage door as they filed out. Joshen stayed close to Senna's side. She saw his hands flexed into fists and his legs in a fighter's stance. She kept her betraying amber eyes down. Still, she couldn't help but notice the city shining from the top of the hill.

While one guard went into their carriage, another lowered the bags from the roof while yet another rifled through the trunks.

One guard grabbed Ciara's arm and pushed her toward an official-looking building. She wrenched free and pressed her lips to Senna's ear. "Don't sing! No matter what, don't sing!" The guard viciously jerked Ciara away.