Chapter 18
When Sienna awoke, she had no idea where she was. The world was dim and hazy, and all the sound seemed far away. She felt something scratchy touching her, and she could feel vibrations beside her.
She tried to open her eyes time and time again, but it wasn't working. She couldn't seem to bring herself fully into the world of the living, fighting to return.
‘Maestro,’ she managed, reaching out through her bond.
To her horror, there was silence. There was no familiar feeling of safety when the message travelled through magic to her beloved Maestros. There was no feeling of comfort at all.
“Maestro,” the fear launched through her, and she sat up. She nearly choked when she did as something pushed against her chest.
Her eyes opened this time, and she found herself in a pure, white room, laying on a starched white bed. There were IVs in both her arms, and one attached to the jugular in her neck. There was an oxygen mask on her face, and machines beeping everywhere.
She felt contained–trapped–and it was terrifying.
“Sienna!” Suddenly, Nathaniel was beside her, his hands on her shoulders, pushing her back. “It's okay. It's okay, little one. It's okay. You're safe. Shh, little one.”
“Maestro,” she managed to say as the tears came. It was as if all the fear that had been pent up during the attack came rushing back at once. She buried her face in his shoulder, sobbing. The mask was in the way, and her tears flooded against it. “I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.”
“It's okay,” he said, running a hand through her tangled hair. “It's okay. It's over now.”
Eventually, he managed to ease her back down onto the bed. It didn't take her long to realize that he wasn't sending calming magic into her veins like he normally did. He was, however, making soothing noises, keeping her calm with his voice. And once she stopped struggling, he reached to take the oxygen mask off her face.
“Just take a few breaths,” he said. “See if you can breathe normally. If it hurts, let me know.”
She did as she was told, cautiously taking a deep breath and then another. Her lungs hurt, but she could fill them, and she found a normal rhythm–cautious but strong.
She nodded, watching his face as he checked her vitals.
“I feel weird,” she said, unable to make sense of what was happening. “Nathaniel, I feel weird.”
“I know,” he said, clicking a machine to check a few stats. “You're okay, though. You're stable.”
“How…where?” She couldn't even form words.
“You're on Jeffro,” he said, “in Eliza's royal facility, only completed a day when we brought you in.”
“What…?” she said, her head beginning to pound. Her breath fell short, and he picked up on that, reaching for oxygen tubing instead. Gently, he looped it over her ears and under her nose. He waited until she was calm before he spoke.
“You've been here three weeks,” he said. “There were many times when we thought we would lose you. You wouldn't wake after the attack.”
“Devon!” she suddenly remembered.
“Yes, Devon,” Nathaniel said. “Devon is fine.”
She breathed such a sigh of relief that she actually displaced her pillow. He picked it up with a smile, lifting her head gently.
“Desmond?”
“Desmond is also fine,” he said. “Why don't you let me tell you what happened, all right? Just breathe easy.”
“Everyone is fine?” she asked in shock.
“Everyone is fine,” he assured her, “thanks to you. You were the one who wasn't fine.”
“I…the spell,” she remembered hazily.
“After that spell, you fell from us,” Nathaniel said. “I expected a seizure, perhaps a week of illness. But you would not come back to us. It was as if you hovered between this world and the next. And I thought…,” He paused, emotion overtaking him. “I thought we would have to let you go.”
“No!” Tears came into her eyes. “No. I made a mistake.”
He tried to smile through his tears. “Shh! We stabilized you and brought you here to Jeffro as a last resort.”
“Reynolds?”
“Reynolds was transported to the school,” he said, “and is currently being held prisoner in the dungeon, awaiting trial. Desmond, I suspect, will fight for him to have life in prison with parole, but I don't know what the Jurors' outcome will be. Either way, the mission is considered a success, and it's thanks to you.”
“To me?” she was so shocked by this. “But I messed up.”
“We all make choices that we look back on with regret,” Nathaniel said softly. “Yours, though, saved our lives. No one can fault you for that. At least, no one in their right mind can.”
Sienna sank against her pillows, trying to make sense of everything he had told her. Her throat was aching, and she couldn't think of the words she wanted.
‘Maestro,’ she tried again, the word so strong in her head she could practically see it.
But there was no answer.
“Nathaniel, our bond,” she said in a panic. “I can't…what's happening to me?”
Nathaniel squeezed her hand, and she didn't need the bond to see how troubled he was. Her eyes followed his to a purple IV bag hanging above her.
“Nathaniel?” she asked, fear creeping into her voice.
“Sienna, we thought we had lost you. You wouldn't awaken. Day after day, week after week, we waited. But you remained trapped in the world in between. And every time one of us reached out to you with the bond, your vitals slipped a little further, and you took another step away from us. Desmond and I had to make a choice, and it worked.”
“What worked?” she asked, in a panic. “What did you do?”
“That's Cinemron,” Nathaniel said, and her heart nearly stopped. “And it wasn't until we pumped it into your system that you came back to us. It's been three days, but you are improving every moment.”
“Cinemron,” she echoed. She knew exactly what it was. Witches feared it, avoided it, and ran from it. Cinemron was a chemical that blocked magic in a witch's body. It made it impossible to draw on nature. “Nathaniel….”
“Shh,” he said. “We had to try. We had to do something, my dear, or you would have left us forever.”
“I can't be a witch without magic!” she cried, hot, salty tears pouring down her face. “I can't train, I can't–”
“Sienna,” Nathaniel stroked her hair, “listen to me. This entire time, you and magic have been in a volatile relationship. You have never used much of it, except as a weapon with dire consequences. We have shown you diplomacy, translation, negotiation, undercover work, and piloting. You haven't been using your magic much at all. Witches stand for so much more than fighting with magic, and you are good at all of those things.”
“But I can't. I'm your Tiro.”
“And that will never change!” he assured her. “Desmond and I took a pledge. We will never leave you. Is that clear? Do you understand? We will never walk away from you, all right?”
She searched his eyes, but she saw nothing but truth in them; nothing but calm relief. “But our bond….”
“We are bonded, little one,” he assured her. “We are bonded, and no one can take that away from us. Don't worry. All right?”
She didn't know what to say to that. But she felt comforted by Nathaniel's assurance and his strength.
“Where will we go from here?” she managed, the only question she could think of that she felt made sense.
“Home,” he said, and she blinked in shock.
“What?”
“Home,” he repeated. “The Jurors have decided, in light of our capture of Reynolds, that we can be reinstated. We are to return as soon as you are strong enough.”
Her mouth fell open, and she smiled, which warmed his heart.
“Really? Really?!”
“Yes!” He smiled back. “Home at last.”
“Oh my,” she closed her eyes. “I thought I would never hear someone say that. But you…Eliza.”
“It's okay,” Nathaniel said softly. “Eliza and I have an understanding. I am committed to you until you need me no longer. And then maybe, just maybe, this dream I lived with her these past few months will become a permanent choice. But right now, we are going to focus on getting you better.”
“How long will I…?” She indicated the IV in her arm.
“I don't know,” he admitted. “But you know that Desmond and I will make the best choices for you regarding it.”
“And when the Jurors find out that the most powerful witch they have seen can't do magic?”
“First of all, they won't,” Nathaniel said. “We are sealing your records, taking a page from Laura and Devon's book. And if they ever do, they can deal with it and keep their mouths shut because we are your Maestros, and we make those choices for you. Do you trust us?”
Sienna met his eyes. “Yes, of course.”
“Then just rest for now,” he said. “And let us take care of everything.”
“Can I see Desmond?” she asked. “Or Devon?”
“I can get Devon for you,” Nathaniel said, rising. “He's been eagerly awaiting your return.”
She paused. “Why not Desmond?”
Nathaniel chose his words carefully. “Desmond is not…having the easiest time with all of this, Sienna. He has been by your side this whole time, but when he saw signs that you were awakening, he chose to meditate. He'll be all right. Just give him some space.”
“Did he not want me to awaken?” she asked, confused.
“He did,” Nathaniel said. “He will be overjoyed. Being that close to Reynolds again, and having you leave…it was a bit much. He'll be all right.”
“I don't want to leave!” she assured her. “I thought I did. I thought that I wanted a different path, but I don't. I want to be a witch, I want to be trained, I want–”
“I know,” he assured her. “It's in the past. Don't worry about it. For now, just rest. I'll get Devon for you.”
“Thank you,” she said, and Nathaniel turned, navigating the doorway through his emotions.
“She's awake.” Eliza had been hovering just outside, not wanting to intrude. “Thank Creator.”
“Yes,” Nathaniel said, giving her a hug. “I've never been so thankful. I need to get Devon for her. She won't rest until she sees him.”
“Did you tell her?” Eliza questioned, and Nathaniel shook his head.
“I couldn't. Now is not the right moment. Perhaps he will tell her himself, or perhaps he will choose to wait until she regains her strength. It wasn't my tale to tell.”
“Very responsible of you,” Eliza said. “Considering your views on his choice.”
“He's not my Tiro,” Nathaniel said softly. “Mine is back, and she's made it pretty clear that she's never leaving me again. As soon as I find Devon, I should find Desmond. Without the bond, he won't know.”
“Do you think it will be permanent?” Eliza asked. “The suppressing of her magic?”
“If it keeps her alive,” Nathaniel set his jaw, “then I will personally administer it every day of my life.”
“But a witch without magic?” Eliza asked, and Nathaniel shrugged.
“She's been exceptional her whole life. This is just another way she'll show them that she doesn't have to be like everyone else. Another way she'll go down in the history books.”
“Beside her Maestros,” Eliza said with a smile as Nathaniel headed off.