Sweet & Bitter Magic by Adrienne Tooley (speed reading book TXT) 📗

at fishing,” Marlena had proclaimed darkly when faced with Wren’s and Tamsin’s questioning looks. “If I can’t feed myself, there’s no use staying here.” Still, her eyes had lingered on the wrecked room before she turned determinedly on her heel and led the way across the beach.

Even the earth smelled different than it had upon their arrival. The putrid stink of dark magic had dissipated, overpowered by the sweet scent of a summer night. Wren breathed the warm air into her lungs, let it rush to her head. It tasted like freedom, something she knew was short-lived.

Still, neither she nor Tamsin walked with as much resignation as Marlena. Before she could talk herself out of it, Wren quickened her step, hurrying to join Tamsin’s sister.

“What does she want?” Marlena asked flatly, clearly fighting the instinct to glower over her shoulder at Tamsin.

“Nothing,” Wren said honestly. “I wanted to see how you were doing.”

Marlena laughed emptily. “As well as can be expected, which is to say, terribly.”

“I never thought I’d meet someone surlier than Tamsin,” Wren said without thinking.

Marlena appraised Wren for a second before allowing her face to split into a small smile. “Yes, well,” she said finally. “Tamsin can’t be the best at everything.”

Wren laughed softly. “I suppose not.”

Marlena exhaled slowly and ran a hand through her hair. “I’m sorry, by the way,” she said. “For trying to, you know, kill you. I didn’t mean it. The dark magic made me… I don’t know what. I don’t know who I am anymore.”

Wren bit her lip, guilt flooding through her. She was the one who should be apologizing. She had sealed the girl’s fate without even knowing it. “Well,” she said carefully, “who do you want to be?”

Marlena blinked several times, almost uncomprehendingly. “I don’t know.”

“On the bright side,” Wren said, offering Marlena a hopeful grin, “that means now you get to find out.”

Marlena looked rather dazed. Wren slowed her pace to give the girl some privacy to consider her future anew.

“So?” Tamsin’s voice was anxious, her eyes again fixed on her sister.

“Just give her time,” Wren said gently.

Tamsin sighed heavily. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

“I’ve got something that might cheer you up,” Wren said, though the thought of what came next gave her no joy. Her whole body ached. Her mind was tired. Her heart battered. Better to hand over the last relic of her old life when she already hurt. What was one more bruise when she was already black-and-blue?

Tamsin looked at her curiously. “I don’t need anything from you.”

“Actually, you do.” Resignation emboldening her, Wren pressed a finger to the ribbon around Tamsin’s neck. “We hunted the dark witch. We ended the plague. Our time together is nearly up. Now I have to give you my love.” She swallowed thickly.

“Your love?” Tamsin looked at her with surprise. “You told me you didn’t want to love me.”

Wren did not know whether to laugh or cry. The conversation in Tamsin’s stiflingly hot cottage felt like it had taken place years ago. So much had changed. She hesitated, chewing on her already raw lip until the metallic tang of blood spread across her tongue. Tamsin had given her an opening. To discuss her feelings freely and fully.

For a moment Wren considered taking it. Tamsin’s face was not twisted in confusion. Instead she looked almost hopeful. But of course that was nonsense. Only hours ago, Tamsin had been standing so near it would have taken no effort at all to close the space between them. But the witch had hesitated. She did not want Wren. She could not want her.

“My love for my father, I mean,” Wren clarified, tamping down the flutter in her chest. It might have been her imagination, but Tamsin looked disappointed. “Unless…” She trailed off, her boldness abandoning her as suddenly as it had appeared.

“Unless what?” Tamsin prodded Wren.

“Unless nothing,” Wren said quickly. It was too much. It was all too much. “Just take the love I promised you and be done with it.”

“Oh.” Tamsin looked wounded.

Wren sighed, a great melancholy sound. She hated herself for wasting their final hours together, for making Tamsin cringe. She hated herself for having spent so much time thinking about Tamsin when she should have been worrying about her father. She hated herself for always doing what she thought she ought to do instead of what she wanted. It got her nowhere, gained her nothing but sorrow.

“You’re acting strange.” Tamsin’s voice was far away. “What’s wrong?”

Love was a powerful and terrible creature. Wren refused to feed it. If she did not admit her feelings to herself, then she would not have to deny herself happiness.

Again.

Time after time Wren had kept herself from what she wanted based solely on what she thought others expected of her. She had sacrificed everything before anyone had asked, but even if that had helped them, it had destroyed her. Slowly but surely, Wren had become nothing but her sacrifices.

“Wren.” Tamsin’s hand was on her shoulder.

Wren stared at her desperately, wondering when she would finally allow herself to stop thinking and take what she wanted from the world.

“I…” Wren reached for Tamsin’s hand, but the witch took a careful step back.

“I can’t do this,” Tamsin said, her eyes mournful.

Wren had been wrong before—she could still hurt. Her heart snapped audibly in half, sending shivers through her body. Her stomach curdled, her blood ran cold.

“Why not?” It was less a whisper than a plea.

“I couldn’t do that to you.” Tamsin stepped forward, her hand caressing Wren’s cheek, her skin cool against Wren’s own. Cool, but not cold. Something was different.

“Do what?” Wren whispered into Tamsin’s palm, her heart fluttering so fast she felt dizzy. She wanted to scream that Tamsin could do anything to her and she wouldn’t mind one bit.

“I can’t take your love for your father,” Tamsin said, running her long fingers through Wren’s tangled hair, “because that would hurt you. And I don’t want to hurt you.”

It wasn’t what Wren had expected. She had been