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

certain Tamsin had seen the way she stared at her, hungrily, as though she would consume the witch. She had been certain Tamsin was going to rebuff her feelings, deny her, and leave her defeated. She had not expected the air around them to still. She had not dared to dream that Tamsin would look at her with such tenderness, such trepidation. “Why?”

“Because I think I’m falling in love with you.”

The absurdity hit her before the words were even out of the witch’s mouth. Wren’s tongue went sour and her stomach sloshed like the unsteady sea. “That isn’t funny, Tamsin.” The corners of her eyes burned, and she struggled to speak over the lump forming in her throat. “That isn’t funny in the slightest.” Tears soaked her cheeks, poured down her face, gliding down her chin and plummeting to the forest floor. Wren was an ugly crier, that she knew, but it didn’t matter—not now that Tamsin had decided to make a joke of her, a mockery of her very real feelings.

Wren gasped through her fury. She had dared to hope, to think that she was different, that perhaps she could even break Tamsin’s curse the way true love always did in stories. But she’d had no right to believe herself special. She clearly hadn’t earned even a modicum of Tamsin’s respect. She wasn’t a heroine. She was a punch line. A fool.

The journey they had taken together meant nothing. Had changed nothing. Tamsin was just as cruel as she had always been, just as cold and unfeeling. Wren wiped her eyes on her sleeve and caught an inadvertent glance at Tamsin’s face. The witch stood, stupefied.

“What’s the matter?” Tamsin was watching with horror as Wren wept. “Did I do it… wrong?”

“If your intention was to make me feel foolish, then you’ve certainly succeeded,” she snapped through a mouthful of salty tears.

“What are you talking about?” Tamsin moved forward, but Wren recoiled until her back met the stiff bark of a tree.

“You can’t love anyone. It isn’t kind to pretend you do, not when I…” She trailed off, tears still pouring down her face. She fished a handkerchief from her pocket and blew her nose indelicately.

Tamsin twisted her cloak between her hands. “Look, I know how it sounds.” The witch took a step toward her. Wren pressed herself even more firmly into the bark of the tree trunk. “But I think I do, and I think…” Tamsin took a deep breath. “I think you love me, too.”

Wren bit her already tender lip. “Do I?” She hated her cold, detached tone. This wasn’t how the moment was supposed to go. Feelings meant something. They were supposed to be expressed slowly, carefully. Tenderly. Yet Tamsin had simply plopped hers out in the open without a second thought. Reckless, as usual.

Tamsin squinted at her. “I think you do.”

Wren sniffed, finding it difficult to maintain eye contact. “What makes you say that?”

Tamsin glanced down at the forest floor. “Because when you’re near me, I smell lavender on your hair. When you smile, I catch a taste of honey. Your skin is warm against mine, and when you touch me, I feel more than magic.” She kicked at a pebble, her face flushing furiously. “None of that should be possible, not with my curse. I used to only be able to experience that kind of joy when I was drawing on stolen love. My reserves are empty, have been for ages, so I’m starting to wonder if, maybe, I’m drawing on yours”—Tamsin glanced up from the grass, her eyes boring hopefully into Wren’s—“because you love me.”

Something loosened in Wren’s chest. “You feel?”

Tamsin took a step toward her. “When I’m with you, I do.”

Wren studied Tamsin’s eyes, the warmth that flickered in their depths. She was having difficulty breathing. Her heart hammered, louder even than the humming of the trees. But then she frowned.

“Does that mean you only love me because you feel love? That isn’t… I mean, I don’t want…” She trailed off, groaning with frustration at her inability to articulate. “I want you to love me because you do, not because you have to.”

Tamsin’s eyes went wide. “That isn’t how it works. I can feel when I’ve taken the love of another, but that love has never forced me to return it. If that was how the curse worked, I’d be betrothed to half of Ladaugh by now. No.” She shook her head firmly. “I feel when I’m with you, but I love you because I do.”

Wren swallowed thickly, the black ribbon around her neck straining against her unvoiced protests. “But I still owe you.” She pointed to her necklace. “If I don’t pay you, I’ll die.”

Tamsin smiled hesitantly. “It’s possible that this pact isn’t very nuanced.” She laughed softly to herself. “All it required from you was love. I think you might already be paying your debt. If you love me, that is.” Her eyes suddenly went wide with horror. “Do you? Love me?” Tamsin tripped over her words, suddenly frazzled. It was the first time Wren had seen the witch anything less than composed. Her brittle shell had slipped, revealing someone hopeful and uncertain.

It was quite a bit of pressure, all things considered. Wren wanted her answer to be perfect. But she also wanted it to be true.

“I think so. But what if it doesn’t last forever? What if someday I stop? Will I owe you again then?” She didn’t realize she was tugging on her braid until Tamsin patiently pulled her hands away and wrapped Wren’s fingers in her own.

“I can’t ask you for anything other than what you feel now. But that’s enough. You, now, are enough.”

Wren tried to look away, so intense was Tamsin’s gaze. It made her nervous. There was so much she could not promise, so much she could not control. She might stop loving Tamsin someday, or perhaps Tamsin would cease loving her. They could be torn apart by the Coven. They could be ridiculed by