Sweet & Bitter Magic by Adrienne Tooley (best ereader for textbooks .txt) 📕

he was fussing with his display of tiny glass vials. The bright purple liquid inside sloshed merrily.

“I have silver,” Wren said sharply. “Will that be enough?”

The tinker finally looked up. “That’ll do, lass. Although your manners could use a touch of work.” The old man cracked a smile missing several teeth.

Wren pursed her lips, trying to tamp down a sigh. She forced a smile. Far be it from her to test the limits of a tinker.

“That’s better,” he said, offering his palm for her coin.

Wren tried not to cringe as she handed it over. She knew she was being reckless, spending impulsively, but her father was afflicted. She didn’t have time to waste worrying. Wren always worried. Wren always wasted.

This time, she would do.

But the moment the coin hit the tinker’s skin, his face darkened. “Ah, lass. Someone’s been fooled.”

Wren glanced warily around the deserted square. “What do you mean?”

The tinker wrinkled his nose. “This is a witch’s coin.”

“A what?”

The tinker smiled sadly at her. “A fake. I once traded a witch my right big toe for the ability to spot a counterfeit coin. Comes in handy in my line of business, let me tell you. Anyway, if I had to guess, I’d say this one was once a button. Either way…” He shrugged apologetically and handed it back to Wren.

“This coin isn’t real?”

The tinker let out a tiny sigh of exasperation. “That’s what I told you. Any chance you’ve got another?”

But Wren hardly heard him, so loud was the fury running through her blood. Not only had Tamsin made her look a fool, but she had given Wren many coins—coins Wren had spent on goods and wares, which made Wren a thief too.

Such carelessness, such cruelty, when ordinary folk were already suffering, was unfathomable. The witch needed to answer for her actions. At the very least, Tamsin needed to supply Wren with enough true coins to repay her debt and secure a vial of the tinker’s potion for her father. If he had fallen ill because of Wren’s dark thoughts, it was up to her to cure him too.

And so Wren bid the tinker a grim farewell and prepared herself to extort a witch.

FIVE

TAMSIN

The shrieking was louder than usual.

Tamsin reached for a pillow to muffle the sharp caws of the black-winged birds that had perched on her ruined fence. The birds were especially restless in the early afternoon, when Tamsin had taken to napping. But instead of closing around fabric, her fingers caught on something unfamiliar that fell to pieces against her palm.

Tamsin cracked an eyelid.

There were flowers everywhere. Long-stemmed, white-petaled things that covered every inch of her patchwork quilt, draping across her body from her neck to her toes. Tamsin scrambled from the bed, knocking the contents of her bedside table to the floor. A black leather-bound book landed at her feet. Its inexplicable appearance was even more ominous than the flowers’.

The diary’s first entry had unsettled her. Tamsin had never known her sister to be jealous. Marlena was not a skilled witch, but she hadn’t needed magic. She’d been the type of strong-willed, confident person everyone adored, the kind of girl everyone wanted as their best friend. She had been elusive, secretive, and special.

She had also wanted nothing to do with Tamsin. As soon as they’d moved into the academy dormitories, Tamsin had found herself in constant competition for her sister’s attention, and, worse than that, on the losing side of it.

Tamsin had always been applauded for her power, given special attention from the High Councillor, admiration from her teachers. But at the academy she’d found that getting attention was not the same thing as being liked.

She’d been so jealous of the easy way Marlena made friends. The way people cared for her despite her lack of talent. Tamsin had never imagined that Marlena might be jealous of her.

It didn’t make any sense. It couldn’t possibly be the truth. And so Tamsin had buried the book beneath the dirt of her ruined garden, promising herself that she would not let the diary’s words pollute her memory.

Clearly, it had other plans.

Tamsin pointedly ignored the small leather book as she used an arm to sweep the flowers off the blanket. They tumbled to the floor, white petals floating down like snow—or ash. Both were likely these days, despite the fact that it was the middle of summer.

Everything in the entire world was wrong.

Tamsin surveyed the chaos of her tiny cottage, arms crossed tightly against her chest. She just needed to breathe, that was all. She closed her eyes and inhaled sharply.

When she opened them, the diary was sitting on her bed.

“This isn’t funny.” Tamsin’s voice cracked from disuse. But no one replied. Instead a gust of wind blew through the room, ruffling the pages of the journal. Tamsin glanced around warily. The window was closed.

Fear gripped her, like a hand wrapped around her throat. This wasn’t her imagination. She wasn’t being paranoid. Something was happening, something beyond her reach. Tamsin was very much used to being in control. She was not enjoying the alternative.

Running a hand through her hair, Tamsin sank tentatively onto the edge of the bed. Every single part of her was shaking, although from the cold or from fear, Tamsin couldn’t tell. Dark magic was ravaging the world, and her dead sister’s diary was taunting her. It was punishment she was due, but the timing made no sense. She’d had the diary for years. Five silent, solitary years. Why now?

“What do you want, Marlena?” Tamsin whispered softly, running a finger idly across a stray petal on her quilt. She tried to turn the diary’s page using only the nail of her pinky finger, but the paper didn’t budge. She tried harder, to no avail. Tamsin even tried to shut the book, but the cover was like steel. There was only one entry the diary wanted her to read. So Tamsin did.

I woke up in the infirmary. Again. Honestly, I