“Do you hate me?” Wren’s voice was so small. Her eyes strayed to where Marlena lay, sprawled out on the wooden floor.
“How could I hate you?” And Tamsin meant it. How could she hate Wren for something that she herself had been prepared to do?
Her eyes skimmed the source still sniffling before her. Wren’s eyes were glassy with tears, her hair streaked with dust and sweat. She had bright pink scratches across her cheek, and her skin was as white as a sheet, the freckles scattered across her nose more pronounced than ever. Tamsin wanted to count every single one, commit them all to memory so that even when she closed her eyes, she would see a constellation of Wren.
She reached up to wipe away the girl’s tears, shuddering as her skin met Wren’s. A rush, heavy and hot, thrummed through her like a wave of nausea. The feeling passed as quickly as it had begun, but in its absence, Tamsin became aware of a different kind of lightness. As though someone had lifted a particularly heavy item from a sack slung across her back, lightening her load.
Easing her way forward.
She kept her hand on Wren’s cheek. This one strange girl had managed to throw off the balance of Tamsin’s entire world. She had turned Tamsin away from emptiness and toward something… else. Something desperate and wanting and hopeful. Something pure. When she was with Wren, things were different. She was different, and Tamsin had no idea why.
“You’re bleeding.” Wren pointed to Tamsin’s wrist, where a stream of bright red blood welled up and trickled down her arm like a waterfall.
Wren leaned forward to examine Tamsin’s injury, her hair draping down like a curtain, sheltering the two of them from the dangers and the cruelties of the world. Tamsin wished they could stay hidden together forever.
Tamsin had always been afraid of forever. It was too broad, too all-encompassing. It left too much room for error and disappointment. But Tamsin had shown Wren all the messy, broken pieces of herself, and still Wren had not run. Instead she stood before Tamsin, biting her bottom lip in concentration as she tore a scrap of fabric from the bottom of her shirt. She wrapped it tenderly around the wound, despite the fact that Tamsin was a witch and could heal it herself.
Wren’s eyes flitted up to meet Tamsin’s. Their sharpness caused a jolt in Tamsin’s stomach. Wren’s cheeks flushed pink. “What?” She was still holding Tamsin’s hand.
“I…” Tamsin was suddenly nervous. Words didn’t seem like enough. They felt like too much. “Nothing.” She was confused. Grief-stricken. She didn’t know what to say. Her sister was dead. Again. She didn’t know how her broken heart would survive it.
Wren’s face fell somewhere between a smile and a frown. She studied Tamsin, her eyes boring into the center of her as though searching for the answer to an unspoken question. Tamsin hated this trepidation, this uncertainty.
She wished she could start all over again. Wished she could slam the door in Wren’s face, ignore the way her freckles danced across her nose in the sunlight, tune out her stupid melodic voice and turn away her kindness. Tamsin wished she had never returned Within at all.
If she had stayed in Ladaugh, Marlena would still be alive. At the very least, she wouldn’t be dead by Tamsin’s hand. For Wren was an extension of Tamsin, by virtue of their pact. She had brought the source here. Which was why Tamsin hated herself for wanting to reach for Wren.
After all that had happened, despite Marlena’s lifeless body on the floor, Tamsin wanted to comfort Wren.
It didn’t make the slightest bit of sense.
Tamsin held on anyway. Sense was nothing amid the crashing waves of grief. She needed to touch someone, needed to remind herself that she was solid. That she wouldn’t merely float away.
Her hand still cradled in Wren’s, a flood of warmth creeping up her perennially cold skin, Tamsin tried not to think. Tried not to fear. Tried to simply listen to the heart lying dormant in her chest. She inhaled shakily, catching Wren’s scent, sweet sweat mixed with something soft and floral. It was a pleasant smell, warm and safe. Made Tamsin feel certain rather than shaky and unsure.
But she wasn’t supposed to smell nice things. Only awful things like sulfur and the stench of rotting food. This comforting scent had no place in her nose. The nervous churning of her stomach, that was more familiar.
Wren was still staring at her. Their faces were close enough that Tamsin could see the different shades of Wren’s eyes. A forest green around the ring, fading into a yellow brown, the color of autumn leaves. Such vivid colors. Not only could Tamsin discern the shades, but she could describe them, the way Wren had described sunsets.
Something was happening.
Tamsin hesitated. Tamsin never hesitated; she simply took what she wanted and thought nothing of it. But she had seen the destruction that her love wrought. Who was to say it couldn’t happen again?
She pulled away from Wren and stared determinedly at the floor. Her eyes caught a flicker of movement next to the hearth, so quick that Tamsin tried to tell herself it was only her grief. She hadn’t actually seen Marlena’s finger twitch.
But then—a low groan.
And her sister stirred.
Tamsin was by Marlena’s side in seconds, scooping up Marlena’s icy hand in her bandaged one. It was such a familiar scene. Tamsin fretting over her sister, hovering. Crowding her. She wondered if she should let go.
Marlena made the decision for her, scrambling up and out of Tamsin’s grip. She bit her lip, eyes wary as she extended her arms, poised to attack. Tamsin waited for the blow. She deserved it after what she had almost done. But no spell burst forward, not even a shower of sparks.
Marlena looked flummoxed, her frustration turning quickly to anger. “Come on,” she said, her voice breaking as she strained, trying to pull magic forward. But the air between them remained empty.
“I don’t…” Marlena looked up at Tamsin, eyes wild. Desperate. “There’s nothing to draw from. I can’t reach the magic.”
“What happened?” Tamsin turned to Wren. “When you thought you killed her?”
Wren looked uncertain. “I don’t know. I thought she’d killed you, so I used my magic to reach into her. There was a snap, and then…” She trailed off, wringing her hands apologetically as she shrugged.
It was rumored that very strong sources could prevent witches from accessing magic, but Tamsin had never borne witness to it, had never heard of it happening anywhere other than in the writings of the ancients. It was a rumor. It couldn’t be true. An untrained source couldn’t possibly harness that kind of raw impulse.
Or perhaps it was the lack of training. Perhaps Wren had finally stopped thinking and started doing. Tamsin’s breath caught in her throat. If Wren had truly cut off Marlena’s access to magic, that meant magic could no longer hurt her. It meant that the thread between them was broken, yet her sister would continue to live.
Tamsin sank back to the ground, tears swimming in her eyes. She was exhausted. Overwhelmed with the impossibility of it all.
“What did she do to me?” But there was no venom in Marlena’s voice. She sounded defeated. Utterly and completely wrecked.
“Your magic is gone, Marlena,” Tamsin whispered quietly.
Marlena’s face paled. “All of it?”
“I thought that was what you wanted,” Tamsin said bitterly. “You’re free now. Our bond is broken.”
“That wasn’t what I meant.” Marlena shifted uncomfortably, slumping against the stones of the hearth. “Tamsin, I didn’t mean to—”
“Let me know how much you hate me?” Tamsin laughed darkly. “You made that clear enough.”
Marlena looked pained. “I don’t hate you. I… resent you.”
“Oh, because that’s better,” Tamsin snapped.
“It is, actually,” Wren said. “Resentment can fade. Hate burns bright.”
The sisters looked over at her in surprise. “I know a thing or two about what it feels like to resent you,” Wren said, eyeing Tamsin sheepishly.
As
tonishingly, Marlena laughed. A soft, bubbling laugh that held far less malice than Tamsin expected. It was not the wicked, twisted laugh of dark magic. It was the same laugh she’d had as a child. “You’re ruthless,” Marlena said, shaking her head. “Exactly her type.”
Tamsin shot her sister a furious look. Marlena cackled again, the smile strange on her face. It had been so long since Tamsin had seen her sister’s expression free of hatred that she almost didn’t mind that her laughter was at Tamsin’s expense.
But, far too quickly, Marlena sobered. “What happens now, then? Now that I’ve nothing, not even a spark of magic, to my name? What sort of reward will Vera grant you for disarming her rogue daughter?”
Tamsin frowned. “That isn’t why she sent me. That isn’t why I came.”
“Ah, so there is a reward.” Marlena pushed herself away from the hearth. “I wonder what she’ll do to me. I escaped from her tower prison, after all. Threw the world into chaos using dark magic. And now I don’t hold a single thread of power. What a disgrace. Maybe I should have died after all.”
“Stop that.” Tamsin’s voice was harsh, her heart cracking as her sister spoke so flippantly about her existence.
“Why?” Marlena asked, her voice rising. “It isn’t as though I have any other options. What am I supposed to do? I’m a witch without magic. What’s the point?”
“You’re alive,” Tamsin snapped. “For better or for worse, that’s what you are. Why can’t that be enough?”
“Would it be enough for you?”
Tamsin hesitated.
Marlena smiled sadly. “I didn’t think so.”
Tamsin sighed heavily. This wasn’t going the way she’d hoped. “I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I’m sorry that I—”
“Don’t.” Marlena’s voice broke. “Please don’t. Apologizing might make you feel better, but it only makes me feel worse. So just stop.”
“I…” Tamsin blinked at her sister helplessly. She had no idea what to say. She didn’t know what Marlena wanted from her—or if she wanted anything at all.
“That’s enough.” Wren’s voice was sharp. “Both of you. You’re both alive. Together. You have the chance to start over. A real chance. And you’re both fools if you don’t take it.”
She turned on her heel and slipped away, ducking through the shattered wall and out into the night. The truth of her words settled like a stone in Tamsin’s stomach.
“Marlena, I—”
“Obviously, you’re going after her.” It wasn’t a question so much as a command. “I know they cursed you, but even you must be able to see what’s happening between the two of you.” Marlena rolled her eyes, as though she didn’t care either way.
“What?”
“Don’t be an idiot. Go after her.”
“But you and I…” Tamsin trailed off. She didn’t know what they needed to do. Only that the space between them was still stagnant and stale.
“Not yet.” Marlena looked pained. “I can’t yet. Okay?”
Tamsin looked at her sister, really looked. Marlena’s left eye was smaller than her right. She had a dimple in her left cheek, and her jaw was slightly square. Tamsin had spent so much time trying to fit them into the same box that she had never taken the time to see how they had grown on their own.
“Okay,” she said, the enormity of her feelings too impossible to put into words.
She turned and followed Wren through the wrecked wall out onto the beach. She glanced up at the inky night sky. The moon was just a sliver, no thicker than a piece of thread. Stars shimmered above, offering the night a softness the never-ending dark had not held. She closed her eyes and breathed in the cool night air.
Wren was twenty paces ahead, staring out at the sea.
“The ocean looks different,” Wren said, her eyes fixed on the water as Tamsin came to stand beside her.
The sea had settled, the waves no longer stormy but rhythmic, rising and receding gently, soft as a lullaby, leaving the sand dark where the waves had been.
“Do you think it’s over? The plague?” Wren’s voice was so hopeful that Tamsin could not bear to look at her face. She thought it might break her.
“I don’t know. I hope so.” Tamsin studied the piles of driftwood as though they were fortresses guarding a secret, keeping captive an answer. There was something she was supposed to say. Something she was supposed to understand about Wren and the way she made Tamsin feel. That she made Tamsin feel.
She turned to face Wren, her skin pale in the darkness, her hair wild and tangled above her head like a crown. Power looked good on Wren. Accentuated her rough and wild face. Tamsin opened her mouth to tell her so, but before she could speak, Wren held up a hand.
“I’m glad you didn’t die,” Wren said.
It was too dark to tell if she was blushing, but Tamsin imagined that she was, the familiar pink flush creeping from Wren’s cheeks to her temples. Tamsin smiled. The silence was as heavy as the air before a storm.
Tamsin took a step toward Wren, the space between them practically nothing. She brought a hand to Wren’s face, her thumb brushing dust from her freckled cheek, the rest of her fingers tangling themselves in Wren’s hair.
“Wren, I…” It was as though she had forgotten how to speak. As though she had forgotten what words were for and why they mattered in the face of this girl with those blazing eyes and that ghost of a smile. For a moment, neither of them moved, the air crackling around them like a shower of sparks.
“It’s okay,” Wren said, misunderstanding her hesitation. She slipped carefully out of Tamsin’s grip, one hand lingering on hers, until she pulled away completely, leaving Tamsin alone with the unfamiliar and infuriating feeling of wanting and the fear that she would never stop.
TWENTY-FOUR WREN
The trees shuddered and sighed. When Wren and Tamsin had first passed through the empty forest, the branches had been thin and spindly. The trunks had stood like skeletons, their emptiness achingly clear. Now, although the branches were still bare, the bark was taking on new life. Color seeped upward from the gnarled roots as slowly as water dripping from a broken pump. Wren looked up. The trunks were taller, as though the trees were finally standing up straight. There was a buzzing in the wood, still whisper-soft, a thudding like a heart fighting its way back to life.
There was potential in those trees. A promise that the world might someday find its footing once again.
Above their heads, the sky was as dark as ever. Nearly one hundred paces ahead, Marlena carried a lantern, the light bobbing and weaving as she stalked through the trees.
Beside Wren, Tamsin was silent, her eyes fixed on the back of her sister’s head. Wren nudged the witch lightly with her elbow. “You should go talk to her.”
Perhaps it was because Wren knew she would never get the chance to see her father again—would never be able to tell him about her magic, her growth, the new world she’d found herself a part of—that she needed Tamsin and her sister to reconcile. Marlena was right there; that opportunity, that closeness, was a gift she wanted the witch to understand.
“She doesn’t want to talk to me,” Tamsin said without tearing her eyes from Marlena.
“You don’t know until you try.” Wren tried to sound encouraging.
“You can’t fix everything, you know.” Tamsin was finally looking at her. “I know you want to, but sometimes it isn’t that easy.”
That was something Wren knew well enough. Each shuffling step she took led her closer to the academy. She didn’t want to return, but of course she had no choice. She was bound to this unfamiliar land. Her power bound to theirs.
Tamsin looked similarly haunted. Still, Wren was grateful for the company. She had expected Tamsin to join her in returning so that she could claim the boon but had assumed Marlena would put up more of a struggle. Yet, as they’d prepared to head back to the academy, the girl had followed them miserably to the door.
“I don’t have magic anymore, and I’m not very goo
d 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.”
Sweet & Bitter Magic Page 25
