She and Vera shared a small smile. Tamsin cleared her throat. She did not particularly appreciate them sharing a joke at her expense.
“You were already punished,” Vera continued. “I hardly think we need to add time to that sentence.”
Tamsin frowned. She had been prepared to be banished twice over, if not executed. It was surely the least she deserved for causing harm to so many people. For putting the Coven in an impossible position. For forcing her mother to choose between her daughters and the world Within.
“There are, however, a few more pieces of business to discuss,” Vera said, stepping back to rest against her desk. “There is, of course, the matter of the boon.”
Beside Tamsin, Marlena stiffened. Tamsin remembered her sister’s flippancy, her belief that Tamsin had come after her only because she stood to gain something in return. And certainly, Tamsin could think of many ways to use the boon. But she didn’t want her sister to think her an opportunist. She didn’t want to ask for forgiveness for herself when she did not think she deserved it. But Wren deserved to live a life she had chosen for herself, not one that was forced upon her.
“I don’t need a boon,” Tamsin said quickly. “But,” she added, turning to Wren, “Wren should take it. Ask for anything. Whatever you wish.”
“What?” Wren spluttered. “I can’t.”
“You can.” Tamsin took a step toward her. “I got you mixed up in all of this. Now I can get you out of it. Go home. Be with your father. Whatever it is you want, ask it.”
“I…” Wren glanced shakily from Tamsin to Marlena to Vera. “Okay.” She nodded resolutely. “I know what I want.”
“Very well.” Vera looked curiously from Wren to Tamsin.
“I ask that the Coven forgive Tamsin her transgressions and welcome her back Within.”
“What?” Tamsin blinked stupidly. She had thought Wren would ask to be released from Within, and that they would return together to Ladaugh. She had not anticipated that Wren would give up her freedom for Tamsin’s.
But Vera’s face was pinched. “I don’t know if that is something the Coven will allow.”
“You’re the most powerful witch in the world,” Wren said. “Do you mean that you can’t convince them?” She tugged briefly on her braid. “You don’t truly believe the world is going to repair itself, do you? You need Tamsin.” Her eyes skimmed Tamsin appreciatively.
“Wren, I don’t think…” But Tamsin didn’t know what she didn’t think. The selflessness of Wren’s action was more than she deserved.
“Hush,” Wren said sharply. “I’m trying to do the Coven a favor.”
Vera let out a low chuckle. “It seems as though my daughter has finally met her match.” Her eyes lingered on Wren. “I will go to the Coven. I will present the situation and ask for their verdict.” She pressed her hands together beneath her chin, her eyes on the three girls. “You all stay put. I’ll be back soon with an answer.”
Vera moved swiftly from her chambers, the door shutting firmly behind her. The room felt suddenly suffocatingly small. Tamsin slumped into one of the hard-backed chairs. Wren leaned against the door frame. Marlena wandered behind her mother’s desk, pressing her fingers to the spines of the ancient books.
“Well, that’s everything wrapped up neatly for the two of you, then.” Marlena’s voice was bitter. “Must be nice.”
“We don’t know what the Coven will say,” Tamsin said quickly, defensively. So much of her life hung in the balance of the Coven’s verdict. Arwyn, especially, was going to be a tough sell.
“They’re going to let you back in,” Marlena laughed softly. “Wren’s right. They need you. Me, however…” She trailed off, pulling a book idly from the shelf and flipping through the pages.
“You could stay here,” Tamsin insisted. “There are plenty of things you could do. You could work in the library. You’ve always loved books. You could write. Research. You don’t need magic.”
Marlena shut the book with a loud snap. “You’re doing it again.”
“Doing what?” Tamsin gripped the chair tightly. Marlena had a way of making her feel foolish when she had only been trying to be kind.
“Deciding my life for me,” she said, shoving the book roughly back onto the shelf. “I don’t want to stay Within. There’s a whole world out there filled with people who aren’t magic. Now I’m one of them.” She smiled sadly, eyes far away. “I always thought one day I might go to Kathos. Now I can.” She brought a hand to her face and turned away. Tamsin knew her sister enough to recognize when she needed a moment.
She turned in her chair toward Wren, whose face was etched with worry. Her eyes drooped with exhaustion, her hair wild.
“You could have used the boon to free yourself,” Tamsin said quietly. “I thought that was what you would do. We could have gone back to Ladaugh together. It would have been a decent life.”
“It wouldn’t have been enough.” Tamsin was surprised to see fire in Wren’s eyes. “You have power. I saw it back there, by the sea. You could be so much more than a village witch catering to the whims of ordinary folk.”
Tamsin frowned. “I don’t deserve that.”
Being back Within, she had seen even more closely the destruction her impulse had wrought. Watching her sister mourn a loss she would never fully recover from, Tamsin felt the consequences of her actions even more intimately. She was more certain than ever that she did not belong here among the people she had betrayed. The people she had hurt.
“What does that mean, ‘deserve’?” Wren squinted at her, as though she truly wanted an answer. “Will you spend your entire life feeling guilty for what you did? Or will you try to redeem yourself with actions and deeds? Healing takes time.” Wren glanced at Marlena, whose back was still to them, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs. “Forgiveness takes time. But none of it will happen until you allow it to.”
Wren twisted a lock of fiery hair around her finger. “You told me to ask for what I wanted. And I want to stay. I hid from my magic for so long, fought against the pieces of me that weren’t easy to explain. I want to know, now, who I am and what I can be. I don’t want to hold myself back.”
She laughed a little through shining eyes. “I wish I could tell my father. I wish I could show him who I truly am. All those years I gave myself up to be what I thought he wanted. But this is the truth. This is me.”
She reached forward to brush Tamsin’s cheek with her thumb. “And this is you. You were a child. Lost and desperate and afraid. You made a mistake. But if you don’t forgive yourself, no one else will either.”
Tamsin shivered at Wren’s light touch. At the gravity in her eyes.
It felt too simple. To move forward, carrying the weight of what she’d done without letting it hold her back. It was a delicate balance. Just like magic. Just like families and relationships and sisters who shared the same face but not the same heart.
Tamsin crossed the room to Marlena and wrapped her arms around her, resting her chin on her shoulder. At first her sister stiffened, tears still pouring down her cheeks. But then she let herself lean on Tamsin, collapsing into sobs. Tamsin held her close, the salt of her tears mixing with Marlena’s, a hand in her sister’s hair, as she did what she could to stop trying to fix and simply exist. Two girls—not halves, but two imperfect wholes.
Each of them enough.
The door opened with a soft click. Vera cleared her throat. Marlena shrugged herself out of Tamsin’s grip, wiping her eyes with her sleeve. Their mother eyed her daughters with trepidation, her arms crossed tightly over her chest.
There was a small smudge of black kohl beneath Vera’s left eye. A tiny thing, to be certain, but it reassured Tamsin slightly. All of them, regardless of power or past mistakes, were entirely and wholly human.
“The Coven has decided.” Vera’s tone betrayed nothing. “I explained that the plague occurred because our source did not fully sever the bond, which means this all occurred due to our negligence.” Vera
shifted slightly. “However, the Coven believes that we must uphold your banishment.”
Tamsin went numb. Behind her, she heard a sharp intake of breath from Marlena and a gasp from Wren. Tamsin could not muster up the energy to be upset. All she was capable of was emptiness.
“Luckily for you, I have the final word.” The ghost of a smile appeared on Vera’s red-painted lips, but disappeared before Tamsin could determine if it was real. “You kept my secret. I owe you more than a boon. As High Councillor, I grant your curse and banishment lifted. You may return Within and live among us. You will aid in the revitalization, bringing Within back to its former glory. You will finish your studies. And you will behave as well as you are able.” The smile returned to Vera’s face. This time it stuck.
“If she’s allowed to stay, does that mean I’m free to go?” Marlena’s voice was ragged, her face blotchy, eyes red. “Now that the truth is out? My magic has left me. I’ve nothing to offer the world Within. So I’d like to leave.”
Vera studied Marlena’s face sadly. “Of course you can,” she said quietly. “But you know the way the Wood works. If you have no magic, you may leave, but you can never come back.”
“I know,” Marlena said, so quickly it was clear she had considered every angle.
Tamsin admired her sister and her certainty. She was so sure she wanted to walk through the trees and leave Within behind. The same thing that had felt like punishment to Tamsin was freedom to Marlena.
“I’ll just need a few supplies. Some food and clothing and coin to secure my passage on a ship.”
Vera pursed her lips. “I don’t like the idea of you venturing out there on your own, no magic to defend yourself.”
“We’ll go with her,” Tamsin said quickly. “Just to the docks,” she clarified, in hopes of softening Marlena’s questioning glare. “To see her off. There’s one other thing we need to do out there in the world Beyond. Will you grant us a bit of time before Wren starts her training as a source?”
“I suppose the Coven may need some time to warm up to the idea of your return.” Vera nodded hesitantly. “But do not dally. There’s a lot to be done before life can continue on as planned. The earth needs us. And we need the ordinary folk to trust us again.” Vera held out her hand. “Now give me your arm.”
Tamsin pushed up her left sleeve. The pale skin was blotchy and scarred where Vera had burned off her mark. Tamsin had never fixed it. She had thought it her due punishment for letting her sister down. Marlena had died, and Tamsin was scarred. It had felt fitting. Yet even as Tamsin glanced at her sister, determined and full of life, she found she did not want to lose the memory of what had been. The forgiveness she still needed to earn. How grateful she was now.
“Perhaps the other one, then,” Tamsin said, offering it up. Her mother nodded, tracing her finger across her daughter’s skin.
Black ink followed her touch, arranging itself in a swooping arc that took up half her forearm, topped by four circles, each intersecting the next. The Coven’s sigil settled into her skin.
A million tiny pinpricks welcomed Tamsin home.
* * *
Two days north of the Wood, they reached the docks and were able to secure Marlena passage on a ship to Kathos. She was going to find Amma’s family, the grandmother she’d always spoken of so fondly. She was going to build the life she’d always hoped for.
Their walk through the Wood had been eerily quiet. It was almost as though the trees had been holding their breath, waiting for the sisters to speak. Tamsin took her cues from Marlena. She didn’t want to tread on toes, to say something out of turn or make things even more complicated than they already were.
And they were complicated. Now that her curse was lifted, newly freed feelings buzzed about her like a swarm of bees. Each emotion was sharp and stinging, her attention pulled from hope to regret to adoration to embarrassment. She felt so much it was overwhelming. The leaves on the trees were so green they made her eyes ache. The breeze tickled her neck, distracting and delighting her. She had been born into the world anew.
But Tamsin’s newfound feelings didn’t negate her grief. She loved Marlena again, every piece of her sister, including the parts of her that were angry and hurt. Knowing that she was the reason for that hurt weighed on Tamsin. She wasn’t used to being wrong. Wasn’t used to consequences that lingered in her heart rather than her head. But she was living them now, reckoning with the fact that she had stolen so much from her sister. Given her a life she hadn’t consented to live.
But Marlena—though her edges had softened since the bond had broken—had given no indication she had anything to say. And so all three of them had walked in silence through the hush of the trees, Wren darting nervous glances between the sisters.
As they walked, the trees offered them no horrors. There were no shrieks or shouts. The silence was punishment enough.
When they had exited the Wood, Marlena had not looked back. And now, as they stood on the dock, Tamsin realized that she was the one who would be left behind.
“I suppose this is it, then.” Marlena tried to smile, but her hands were in her hair, tying the strands into a hundred tiny knots. She was nervous, even if she didn’t want to show it. “Good-bye.” She bit her lip and turned away.
Tamsin stood, frozen to the ground. She couldn’t watch her sister sail away with that as the final word between them. It couldn’t be over. Not with so many things still unspoken.
Wren clearly felt similarly. She shoved Tamsin forward so hard she tripped, stubbing her toe on the worn, weathered wood of the dock.
“Marlena.” Tamsin used her sister’s shoulder to steady herself.
Marlena put a hand on Tamsin’s elbow, almost absentmindedly, righting her. “I have to go,” she said, gently untangling herself from her sister’s grip.
Tamsin glanced pointedly down the dock, where the crew was still loading the ship, tossing sacks and rolling barrels into the storeroom. “It looks like you might have a minute. Please.”
Marlena sighed softly but nodded. She stared at Tamsin expectantly.
“This belongs to you.” Tamsin held out the diary, her fingers lingering on the worn leather cover. “I wish I had read it earlier. I wish I had known long ago what you truly thought of me. I never should have gotten us into this mess.”
Tamsin cleared her throat, still surprised by the prickle in the corners of her eyes. “I know you told me not to apologize, but I’m sorry, Marlena. I’m sorry for not seeing you for more than who I wanted you to be. I failed you. And you have every right to hate me for it.”
Marlena flipped idly through the diary. “I never hated you, you know. Not truly.” She looked up from the pages to her sister. “I just never wanted to be you. You wanted us to be the same, and I felt like I was always letting you down by being me.”
“But I like you,” Tamsin whispered, twisting her cloak between her hands.
“I like me too,” Marlena laughed softly. “But I have to figure out who I am now. Without Amma. Without magic. Without Vera.” She cleared her throat. “Without you.” She looked out at the water.
“I just want you to be happy.” Tamsin turned her gaze to the sea as well. “I hope you find what you’re looking for out there. I hope that one day you write to me about your new life. And I hope that someday there’s a place for me in it.”
Marlena reached for Tamsin’s hand. “I hope so too.”
They stood there, hand in hand, as sailors shouted, waves crashed, birds called, and hope bloomed in the garden of Tamsin’s heart.
She was not yet forgiven. She might never be. But it was a start.
Letting go was the first step.
Perhaps, one day, the two of them would meet again and take the next one together.
TWENTY-SIX WREN
The world was waking up.
The earth’s stores of magic were still depleted. Wren continued to hear the screaming of stone, the muffled breathing of trees, the uncertainty of water. But she
sensed hope, too. Every chance she got, she pressed a hand to a boulder, ran her fingers through the cool water of a reflecting pool. She offered drops of her own magic to the earth as a reminder of what had been. A promise of what was to come. And the world reached up to meet her.
There was much work to do. They were nearly four days on the road, most of their time spent picking paths through the broken branches, piles of rotting leaves, murky brown puddles. The destruction they witnessed was endless. That the sun had returned to the sky only served to illuminate exactly how broken the world had become. Not a single structure in the city of Farn remained standing; the maze of alleyways was filled with the rubble of homes, the abandoned possessions of those fleeing the plague and their potential demise. The stench of death lingered an entire day in all directions.
Bands of frightened people huddled together on the outskirts of the city, setting up camps in fields of dead soil and withered crops, their wagons arranged in tight circles, studying Tamsin and Wren with suspicion even as they gave the groups a wide berth. People were hungry, dirty, defeated. The anger that had served them in the early days of the plague had dwindled to nothing, visible in their hunched shoulders and dull eyes.
Wren wanted to reassure them, to promise their safety, but no one was eager to speak to strangers, and certainly not ones so clean and finely clothed. There was no proof that they had suffered—although, of course, not all scars could be seen.
Now they were in the lowlands, only a day from Ladaugh and the countryside Wren had always called home. But the earth was devoid of color. It was all so stoic and sad.
“What are you thinking about?” Tamsin’s hand brushed lightly against her arm, her eyes studying and serious. She no longer wore her green cloak. Instead her arms were bare, her ghostly pale skin finally exposed to the daylight.
“Nothing.” Wren’s footsteps crunched against the gravel on the road. Tamsin looked at her skeptically. “Everything.” She shot the witch a small smile. “It’s just overwhelming.”
Sweet & Bitter Magic Page 27