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

“This meeting of the Six is in session.” The witch who smelled of paper spoke. He was a wizened old man bent over nearly double, his eyes a milky white. He was perhaps the oldest person Wren had ever laid eyes on. Yet his voice was strong.

“I do not recognize you,” the old man wheezed, “although of course my memory has been known to fail.” Two of the six exchanged significant looks. “Who are you, and what are you doing with the banished witch Tamsin?”

Wren could do nothing but gape at him. Banished? She tried to reach for her braid, but her wrists were bound, the magic hot against her skin.

“Well?” the old man demanded.

Wren was having a difficult time finding her voice.

“She made it through the Wood, Barrow,” a gray-haired woman said, her voice more patient than her expression suggested. “That means she’s magic. The only question is, what kind?” She turned her attention to Wren. “What’s your name?”

“Wren,” she managed.

“Well, Wren,” said the woman, “are you a witch?”

Wren darted her eyes around the room. She took a deep breath. “No,” she finally said.

Whispers worked their way through the hall.

“Leya,” a second gray-haired woman called. “Come here.” Leya, the red-lipped girl who’d met them at the border, stepped forward, studying Wren with interest. An aura of magic—a full spectrum of colors, different from the single strands possessed by the witches—hung lazily about her head like a crown. There was no mistaking it: Leya was a source.

It wasn’t until the girl’s brown eyes slid up to the same space above Wren’s head that Wren remembered that Leya, as a source, could see Wren’s magic too.

The source stepped forward, circling Wren in a predatory way. She tapped a finger to her red lips theatrically. Nerves fluttered in Wren’s stomach. Her whole life, she had hidden her true self from her father, from the world. Now she would be revealed before an entire roomful of witches.

Leya stopped moving. She could hardly be older than Tamsin. Her eyes were calculating, but not altogether unkind. As she reached out a hand to touch Wren, Leya’s lips quirked downward, as if in apology.

She moved, faster than lightning, to wrap her hand around Wren’s wrist. There was a jolt in Wren’s blood. The source’s fingers were like fire. Wren’s magic slithered toward her like a snake, making her skin squirm. Leya made a small, thoughtful sound, then let go of Wren’s arm, leaving behind the lingering scent of ocean spray and starlight.

“She is a source.” Leya turned to face the Six. “Strong enough, but very undisciplined.”

All six witches broke out in a flurry of heated whispers, their voices bouncing ominously off the black marble walls. But Wren only had eyes for Leya, her proud jaw, the restless energy in her hands. The two of them held the same power, but they’d led very different lives. Wren had kept herself and her magic hidden. Leya had been shaped by the Coven. It was like looking at a reflection in rippled water. A glimmer of what Wren might have been.

“Settle down.” The gray-haired witch who had spoken first was on her feet, hands raised. The hall fell silent. The witch turned to Wren. “Now that we know what you are, why don’t you tell us what you are doing here?”

Wren looked desperately around the room for a friendly face. Once again, she wished Tamsin were here, armed with a quick jab or dour remark. Instead she was alone, completely out of her depth. All she had was the truth. “Tamsin and I are here to hunt.”

Leya let out a small splutter of incredulity.

The gray-haired woman held up a hand. “Are you?” She peered down at Wren with guarded interest. “And why should we allow you to hunt? A banished witch and an unregistered source?”

Wren swallowed. She didn’t like the way the woman had said the word “unregistered.” It made her sound like a criminal. Someone who had been intentionally negligent rather than torn in two, half her heart with the magic inside her, the other half with her fearful father.

“Because we are a team, twined together by a magically binding contract. We have no choice but to hunt. Unless you want to add our lives to your dark witch’s body count.” Her voice shook, her heart beating like the frantic fluttering of a moth’s wings. She could hardly believe the brazenness of her words. More than that, she could hardly believe the truth of them.

Whispers built upon one another like rain during a summer storm.

“Very well.” The first woman pressed the tips of her fingers together. “You will be allowed to hunt.” Wren’s heart swelled. “But we have reached another verdict: When the dark witch has been vanquished, you will return here to begin your training. From this day forward, you will be unable to pass through the trees back into the world of the ordinary folk. Your only place will be here, Within.”

Wren froze, her palms sweaty and cold. “Sources cannot leave the world Within?”

She hated the way her voice shook, so weak it fell flat against the dark marble floor.

The witch raised a single white eyebrow. “Sources are permitted to leave, pending approval. You, however, are not.”

Wren gaped at her. “Why?”

“Because you denied us your power. Sources are dangerous, Wren. Surely you know the stories. Even the ordinary folk tell them. Your power made the rise of the dark witch Evangeline possible. Sources allow witches to utilize magic consequence-free. Without feeling the effects of their spells, witches become greedy. They then turn toward dark magic for its ease, never mind the cost. We need to ensure that you are properly protected both from witches and from yourself. To do that, you must remain Within.”

“But…” Wren scoured the room for a single ounce of sympathy. She was being blamed for the actions of one witch. But the eyes of the Six bored right through her. Leya’s eyes would