Chapter 10 Senna
SENNA
The tea burns my tongue, but I drink it anyway.
Anything to focus on something other than the throbbing ache in my ribs. The sharp sting across my cheekbone. The way my left wrist protests every time I move it, swollen and tender from where Darian wrenched it behind my back.
I shouldn't have come here after Darian stormed out. Shouldn't have dragged myself up the narrow staircase to Mira's tiny apartment above the seamstress shop, leaving a trail of blood-spotted tears on every third step. But I didn't know where else to go.
Staying home wasn't an option. Not after what happened.
Mira's apartment is small—just one room with a bed shoved against the far wall, a rickety table near the window, and a hearth that barely gives off enough heat to keep the space warm. But it's hers. Safe. And right now, that's all I need.
"Drink more." Mira presses the chipped ceramic cup back into my hands, her honey-brown eyes scanning my face with the kind of clinical assessment that makes me want to curl into myself even more. "The meadowmint will help with the pain."
I take another sip, even though I know it won't. Nothing helps with the pain anymore. Not tea. Not time. Not the careful distance I've learned to keep between myself and Darian's fists.
Today, though, I failed at that distance.
Spectacularly.
Mira settles onto the edge of the bed beside me, close enough that our shoulders brush, and I feel her warmth seep through the thin fabric of my dress.
She doesn't ask what happened. Doesn't demand an explanation or press me to talk about the bruises already blooming across my skin like ugly flowers.
She just waits.
And somehow, that's worse than if she'd yelled at me.
"I messed up," I whisper finally, the words scraping past the tightness in my throat. "Really messed up this time."
Mira's hand finds mine, her fingers curling gently around my uninjured wrist. "Senna—"
"I kissed him." The confession spills out before I can stop it, raw and jagged. "The xaphan. Lorenth. He—he came here. To the village. And I kissed him, and Darian saw, and—"
I can't finish. Can't force the rest of the words past the lump choking me.
Mira goes very still beside me. "Wait. The xaphan you met at the Masquerade?"
I nod, not trusting my voice.
"He came here? To this village?"
Another nod.
"Senna." Mira's voice shifts, taking on that sharp edge she gets when she's trying not to panic. "You never told me what happened at the Masquerade. You came back and you wouldn't talk about it. I thought—I thought maybe you just had a good time and that was it."
Shame curls hot in my stomach, and I pull my hand free from hers, wrapping both arms around myself instead. "I didn't think it mattered."
"Didn't think it mattered?"
"I didn't think he'd want more than one night." The admission tastes bitter on my tongue. "He's xaphan. A noble, I think, based on his wings. And I'm—I'm nothing. Just some human woman married to a blacksmith in the middle of nowhere. Why would someone like him want someone like me?"
Mira stares at me for a long moment, her expression cycling through disbelief, frustration, and something that looks almost like pity. Then she grabs my shoulders—gently, careful not to press on any of the fresh bruises—and turns me to face her.
"You're going to tell me everything," she says firmly. "Right now. Starting with what happened at the Masquerade."
I open my mouth to argue, but the look in her eyes stops me cold.
So I tell her.
All of it.
How Lorenth appeared out of nowhere when that other xaphan grabbed me.
How he was different—controlled, intense, like a storm held barely in check.
How we danced and talked and wandered through the festival together, and how every moment felt like stepping into some kind of dream I didn't want to wake from.
How the Nashai said she could sense our bond.
How Lorenth pulled me into that lantern-lit garden and admitted he felt something pulling at him, something he couldn't explain or ignore.
How I kissed him first.
How he made me feel things I didn't know I was capable of feeling—safe and wanted and seen in a way I haven't felt since before my uncle sold me to Darian. Probably ever.
How we made love, and it was nothing like what I've endured with my husband. It was gentle and fierce all at once, and for the first time in years, I felt like I mattered to someone.
And then how I ran.
Because the bells were ringing and daybreak was coming and I knew—I knew—that if I stayed, if I let myself believe for even a second that this could be real, it would destroy me when it inevitably ended.
By the time I finish, my cheeks are wet and my voice is hoarse, and Mira is staring at me with an expression I can't quite read.
"Senna," she says softly. "He's your soulmate."
The word hits me like a slap.
"No." I shake my head, hard enough to make my vision swim. "No, that's—that's not possible. The Nashai was wrong. She had to be wrong."
"She wasn't wrong." Mira's voice is gentle but unyielding. "You just described a soul bond, Senna. The pull. The feeling like you couldn't stop touching each other. The way everything felt right when you were together." She squeezes my shoulders again. "That's not just attraction. That's fate."
"Fate doesn't exist."
"You don't believe that."
And she's right. I don't.
Because I felt it. Felt the way Lorenth's soul reached for mine in that garden, felt the way my own soul answered without hesitation. Felt the wrongness that's been gnawing at me ever since I ran—like something vital has been ripped away and I'm just walking around with a gaping hole in my chest.
I press my palm against my sternum, where that hollow ache has lived for two weeks, and fresh tears spill over.
"It doesn't matter," I whisper. "I'm married, Mira. And even if I wasn't—even if Darian didn't exist—what kind of life could I have with him? He lives in New Solas. I live here. He's xaphan nobility, and I'm—"
"You're good enough for him," Mira cuts in fiercely. "Don't you dare say you're not."
"That's not what I meant."
"Yes, it is." She moves her hands from my shoulders to cup my face, forcing me to meet her eyes. "You've spent so long being told you're worthless that you actually believe it. But you're not, Senna. You're kind and smart and brave, and you deserve better than what Darian gives you."
The kindness in her voice cracks something inside me, and I choke on a sob.
"He beat me," I whisper. "When he dragged me home. He—he saw me with Lorenth and he lost it. Worse than usual. And I just—I just let it happen because fighting back only makes it worse."
Mira's face goes pale, her jaw tightening. "How bad?"
She's only seen the building bruise on my cheek. It's nowhere as bad as my torso. "Bad enough."
"Senna—"
"I'm fine." The lie tastes like ash. "I've survived worse."
"That's not fine!" Mira's voice cracks, and she pulls me into a careful hug, mindful of the bruises. "You shouldn't have to survive your own husband. You should be able to leave. To run. To find someone who treats you the way you deserve."
"Like Lorenth?" The question comes out bitter, half-laughing. "A xaphan noble who probably has a dozen women throwing themselves at him back in New Solas? What makes you think he'd even want—"
"He came here."
I freeze, Mira's words sinking in.
"He came all the way out to this gods-forsaken village to find you," Mira says, pulling back just enough to look at me. "That's not the behavior of someone who's forgotten you, Senna. That's the behavior of someone who's desperate."
My chest tightens, and I think of the way Lorenth looked at me earlier. The way his storm-blue eyes darkened when he saw me. The way he moved like he couldn't help himself, like every instinct in his body was screaming at him to close the distance between us.
The way he kissed me back like I was the only thing in the world that mattered.
"He said my name," I whisper. "Like—like he'd been holding onto it for weeks. Like it hurt him to finally say it out loud."
Mira's expression softens. "Then you know he wants you. The question is—what are you going to do about it?"
"Nothing." The word comes out flat, automatic. "What can I do? I'm married. Darian would never let me go. He'd hunt me down and drag me back, and it would be so much worse than this."
"Or Lorenth could protect you."
"He's one xaphan."
"He's a noble," Mira counters. "With wings and magic and probably an entire network of connections in New Solas. If anyone can keep you safe from Darian, it's him."
I shake my head, fear coiling tight in my stomach. "You didn't see the way Darian looked at him. At me. If I run—if I leave with Lorenth—Darian will lose his mind. He'll come after us. He'll—"
"He'll what?" Mira's voice hardens. "He'll hit you? He already does that. He'll scream at you? Lock you in the house? Make you feel like you're nothing? Senna, he's already doing all of that. What do you have to lose by trying?"
Everything.
That's what I want to say.
Because as terrible as my life is now, at least I know what to expect. I know how to navigate Darian's moods, how to make myself small enough to avoid the worst of his rage. I know the rhythms of this prison I've been living in.
But leaving?
Running with Lorenth?
That's stepping into the unknown. Into a world where I don't know the rules or the dangers or whether the bond pulling at my chest is strong enough to survive reality.
And what if it's not?
What if Lorenth realizes I'm not worth the trouble? What if he gets tired of me, or the bond fades, or he decides he made a mistake?
What if I trade one cage for another?
"I can't," I whisper, and the words feel like a death sentence. "I'm too afraid."
Mira's hands tighten on my shoulders, her eyes blazing. "Then you need to get over that fear. Because if you stay here, Darian is going to kill you eventually. Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow. But one of these days, he's going to go too far, and you won't walk away."
The truth of it sits heavy in my chest, undeniable.
I've known it for years. Known that every beating brings me closer to the edge. Known that Darian's control is slipping, that his rage is getting harder to contain.
But knowing it and accepting it are two different things.
"I don't know how to leave," I admit, my voice breaking. "I don't know where I'd go or how I'd survive. I don't have money or skills or—"
"You have Lorenth."
I look at her, tears streaming down my face.
"You have a soulmate who came all this way to find you," Mira says gently. "A man who looked at you like you hung the stars. Who kissed you like he was drowning and you were air. That's not nothing, Senna. That's everything."
I want to believe her.
Gods, I want to believe her so badly it hurts.
But the fear is still there, coiled tight around my ribs, whispering that I'm not brave enough. That I don't deserve this. That running will only make things worse.
"What if he doesn't want me now that he knows the truth?" I whisper. "What if he finds out how broken I am and changes his mind?"
Mira pulls me back into her arms, holding me tight. "Then he's an idiot. But I don't think he will."
I close my eyes, breathing in the faint scent of lavender that always clings to Mira's clothes, and let myself imagine it.
Leaving.
Running.
Finding Lorenth and letting him pull me into that world of lantern-light and possibility.
But then I think of Darian's face. The cold fury in his pale eyes when he saw me with Lorenth. The way his fingers dug into my arm hard enough to bruise.
And I tremble.
Because I know—deep in my bones—that if this is how he reacted to just seeing me with another man, what he'd do if I actually tried to leave would be so much worse.