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

my spell. And I have to live with that. I did that.” The witch busied herself with adjusting her cloak, her face pinched. “No one will let me forget it. Not even the Wood.”

Wren started walking, brain buzzing. She had always suspected Tamsin’s past to be fraught, but she now realized she had underestimated the depths of the witch’s pain. The monumental weight of the guilt she was carrying.

“Where are you going?” Tamsin hurried after her.

“Getting us out of here. These trees will not defeat us.” Wren stalked forward, chin up, shoulders back. She was magic, and she would not lose to the Witchwood. “Hurry up.”

“I am hurrying,” Tamsin said, her breath huffing as she worked to keep up.

“Your legs are longer than mine,” Wren said, trying to keep her voice light, although her stomach was still churning with the understanding of exactly how much power Tamsin held. It was one thing to watch her summon food or fire. It was another thing to imagine her with enough magic to end a life.

She shivered, hoping it passed as a reaction to the shadows around them, the breeze blowing straight into their faces. The whispers of the trees had faded to a dull ringing in her ears. In the distance were pinpricks of light, sparkling and twinkling like stars. The darkness that had crept up her throat, threatening to choke her, was starting to dispel. She was beginning to feel like herself again. Settled. Which could only mean that they were almost to the other side.

Wren reached for Tamsin’s hand and pulled the witch forward, ignoring her startled cry. All that mattered was getting out of the Witchwood. Tamsin begged for her to slow down, but Wren could not, would not, until she saw a break in the trees, until she extracted herself from their tangled trunks and wanting branches.

Outside the Witchwood, the night was cool and calm. Wren dropped her sack and spun, giddy at the freedom of the wide open space. She had made it. She was in the Witchlands—she was in the world Within.

“What are you doing?” Tamsin pulled her hand free from Wren’s grasp, still panting. Yet, despite her bemused tone, her eyes were wide with relief.

“Celebrating.” They had done it. They’d made it through. Despite the horrors she had witnessed, she also finally had pure, indisputable proof that she belonged in the world of magic.

“You look ridiculous,” Tamsin said, her eyes darting around the empty night.

“You’re not a little bit excited?” Wren stopped spinning. “Didn’t you grow up here? Won’t people be pleased to see you?”

“Pleased?” Tamsin’s face fell, her features pained. She looked like an entirely different person. Not the cold girl who had laughed when Wren demanded payment for her stolen eggs. This Tamsin looked sad. Vulnerable. Afraid.

“That’s not the word I’d use,” purred a voice. Wren and Tamsin whipped around to find a girl about their own age, her lips painted a vivid red, her hair dark and glossy. A long black cloak was draped over her broad shoulders, giving her the quality of a shadow. Her eyes, bright and frenetic, were fixed on Tamsin. Her lips quirked into a wicked grin. “Oh, Tamsin. I know the Coven put out the call to all witches, but surely you didn’t think that meant you, too.”

Wren turned to Tamsin, confused by the stranger’s mocking tone. But Tamsin did not meet Wren’s eye. She stared straight ahead, her face even paler than usual. She looked resigned, an emotion so wholly foreign on her usually smug face.

“Leya.” Something dark and heavy lingered in the air between the witch and the stranger. Wren found herself desperate to catch Tamsin’s eye, but she did not look her way. “What are you doing here?”

“I live here, remember?”

Tamsin shifted her weight awkwardly. “I meant at the border.”

“Vera asked me to accompany her during her patrol. You never know who might walk through the Wood.” Leya twirled a dark curl around her finger. “I work for the Coven now.”

Tamsin paled. “Vera’s here?”

Before Leya could answer, a woman appeared where there had not been a woman before. She moved across the grass quickly in long, clipped strides. The woman was very beautiful, and absolutely terrifying. Her magic looped above her, less like a ribbon and more like a rope. Thick. Sturdy. Strong—perhaps too strong.

She was the witch in every ordinary folk’s story, the one who charmed parents while stealing babies from their beds, who had a face of beauty but a cold, rotten heart. She looked as though she could take a bite through steel.

“Tamsin.” The woman finally spoke with a voice as lush as poisoned wine. “You’re looking… well.” Her eyes lingered on Tamsin’s muddy skirt and tangled hair. Wren recognized the set of Tamsin’s jaw, the defiant fire in her eyes. Her defenses were high. This was not a woman she trusted.

“High Councillor.” Tamsin gave the woman a deferential nod. Her voice was oddly strangled.

“Oh, come now,” the woman said, her bloodred lips curving up in a predatory grin. “Is that any way to greet your mother?”

THIRTEEN

TAMSIN

It was dark in the tower, the black shadows of night seeping across the gray stone floor, yet Tamsin did not need a torch. She could have kept her eyes closed for how well she knew the twists and turns from the front door of the academy to the High Councillor’s chambers.

Tamsin ran a hand against the cool, curved wall, her fingers dragging the way her feet wanted to as she followed her mother’s clipped footsteps left, right, right, then another left before ascending a winding set of stairs.

She’d had to leave Wren down in the Grand Hall to face the Six alone. Those six ancient witches were all that remained of the old guard, the leaders before Vera and her friends had taken down the dark witch Evangeline and founded the Coven. The Six had always been performative—after all, their negligence was the reason Evangeline had managed