The Herbwitch's Apprentice by Ireen Chau (great books to read txt) 📕

my swollen knee. Lana dabbed the substance over the injury. I felt an instant cooling sensation and watched amazed, as the bruising disappeared before my eyes.

“A basic healing elixir,” Lana said, corking the vial. “All witches learn to make it eventually.”

I prodded my knee as Lana went back to her shelves. No pain. It was as if I hadn’t fallen off a horse at all. A giggle threatened to burst from my throat. It was like magic. No. It was magic.

Lana dumped the pile of books into my lap. I jumped.

“Do some reading,” Lana said. “I expect you to finish them all before you come back. And don’t let anyone see them.”

“Come back? So you’ll help me?”

“Why else would I give you my books?” Lana said. “And never take off that crystal. It will control your powers when you’re in the midst of human society. I will contact you through it as well.”

“Contact me?”

“It will vibrate when it is time for our next lesson. I expect you to arrive promptly when I call for you.”

“Can I contact you through it?” I asked.

Lana frowned mightily. “Absolutely not. You are not to use magic above ground. And you are not ready for communication charms. Stick to your books.”

I thumbed through the titles. History of Witchcraft. Potion Making Volume I. An Index of Witchmade Herbs. They were all worn, except for the first volume, The History of Witchcraft. The title was embossed with gold and I caught a glimpse of my reflection.

“Thank you...but I can’t go back looking like this,” I said, gesturing to my face.

Lana nodded. “Your witch traits have emerged. They are the physical marks of a possessor of magic,” Lana said. She rolled up her sleeves, and I noticed that there were gold flecks on her elbow and fingertips, not unlike the gold of my freckles. With a wave of her hand, a shimmering mist settled over me and then dissolved. I checked my reflection again.

“Nothing happened,” I said.

“Humans will not be able to see your witch traits unless you tell them what you are,” Lana said. “All witches have this enchantment casted on them by one charmwitch or another.”

“But I thought you’re an herbwitch.”

Lana sighed. “I forget you lack knowledge of basic things. Charmwitches and herbwitches each have basic magic the other can learn. A charmwitch can learn to make basic potions. An herbwitch can cast simple enchantments. I refuse to waste any more time blabbering basic facts. You may leave.”

“Well, thank you for everything,” I said, standing up.

Lana turned her back to me again. “I will call for you in two weeks time. I won’t tolerate tardiness.”

“Yes, Lana.”

“And throw that bag of plants in my garden on your way out. I could use some fertilizer.”

I RETURNED WHEN GENEVIEVE was dressing for breakfast. She started at my sudden appearance.

“Amarante? Where have you been?”

I pointed to the note I had left on my mattress. “On a walk.” I discreetly shoved my bag under my bed as Genevieve bent down for the note.

“A walk. At the crack of dawn? Dressed like that?”

I nodded, hoping she wouldn’t question me further. Luckily, she didn’t, but the face she made told me that it wouldn’t be easily forgotten.

“Hurry and get dressed,” she said, tossing me a gown. I caught it, but not before the fabric hit me squarely in the face.

I recognized the gown Papa sent me for my sixteenth birthday. He was overseas, unable to attend my birthday celebration. I ran my fingers across the olive-green silk of the bodice. The square neckline was embroidered with shimmering bronze vines.

“What’s the occasion? We don’t have an event today, do we?” I asked.

Genevieve twisted her fingers. “No, but you are summoned to the palace.”

I began to ask why, but realization dawned on me.

“Oh. Oh no.”

13

It turned out that throwing punch at the duchess’s daughter in front of an audience of debutantes was not something that could be easily overlooked. A letter arrived from the palace summoning me to the queen herself for disciplinary matters. My gut dropped to the floor.

“Don’t worry, Amarante,” Tori said. “I’m sure Her Majesty knows perfectly well what the duchess and her daughter are like.”

“She and Queen Cordelia are bosom friends,” I said. “You told us that yourself, remember?”

This did not seem to distress her. Throughout the course of breakfast, during which I barely stomached a blueberry, Tori encouraged me to “give that nasty Narcissa what’s coming for her”. Genevieve pulled me into a rib-crushing embrace as if I were being sent off to the gallows. Lord Strongfoot, after hearing about the matter, merely guffawed.

A carriage was called for me and I clutched the letter in my hand, crumpling and smoothing and crumpling the parchment until it felt like tissue. When I finally arrived at the south wing of the palace and showed the guards the crumpled letter, they led me to Lady Hortensia, whom I immediately recognized from her frilly gown. Her face was pinched in disapproval. I colored.

“Come along, Miss Flora,” she said.

I followed Lady Hortensia down the hall of the south wing. Giant portraits of old, dead politicians with white beards and finery hung along the wall to my left. They seemed to glare down at me as I passed. After a couple minutes of walking down the lusciously furnished hall, we entered an archway that led to a wide chamber. Arched windows let in cheery daylight, a cruel contrast to my bleak situation.

“Wait here,” Lady Hortensia said, gesturing to a small alcove before a pair of oak doors. “The queen will see you soon.”

I took a seat on a particularly lumpy couch as the woman left with a sniff. I gripped the crystal around my neck with a shaky hand, willing myself to calm.

The possible punishments that loomed before me were unlike anything I dared to imagine. Would I be whipped? Shamed and disowned? Publicly beheaded? My fingers went to my throat. A beheading was a very viable punishment for throwing punch at