The Herbwitch's Apprentice Ireen Chau (best life changing books txt) 📖

shook his head. “No, it isn’t,” he said in a low voice. His grin faltered. “And now, if she is the culprit, which I have strong reason to think she is, she knows that you know.”

I shrugged. It wasn’t as if Duchess Wilhelmina and I were on good terms to begin with. “And the queen? How is she?” I asked.

“The physicians are trying,” he said. “My mother is showing signs of recovery, but I don’t know how their antidote will work when they’re treating the wrong poison.”

I opened my mouth, about to recommend he use Lana’s general antidote, but remembered that I shouldn’t know about it. “You’ll find a way,” I said instead, tugging the strap of my pouch.

I tugged a little too hard. The contents spilled out onto the grass. My flask, and to my horror, the misshapen apple Ash had given me at the Witch Market. I had forgotten to remove it the other day.

My blood froze as he knelt to pick it up. I remembered Miriam’s words.

Hatred for witches run in royal blood.

For a moment, I forgot I didn’t believe that.

I snatched the apple from him and shoved it in my bag.

Ash furrowed his brow and grinned. “You’re quite violent with apples, you know?”

I pressed my lips together, not knowing whether to laugh or cry in relief. He hadn’t recognized it. I bent to retrieve my flask instead, glad that it was dark.

“I really like apples, that’s all.” It wasn’t entirely a lie. But it still didn’t make much sense. Ash merely looked perplexed. Luckily, he didn’t comment on my odd behavior.

“I’ll see you in a week, then?” he said.

I returned his smile. “I’ll see you then.”

19

Lana stirred the contents of her cauldron. The murky substance shifted to pale green and developed a viscous quality.

“This is the extracting potion I mentioned from our first lesson,” Lana said, adding a pinch of crushed herbs into the mixture. There was a recipe book next to her, though she rarely glanced at it during the demonstration.

The open fire beneath her cauldron was making me sweat buckets, but not a trace of perspiration lingered on Lana’s forehead as she tapped her ladle on the rim. Fat droplets of extracting potion fell back into the cauldron. “Potion making is a skill every witch needs to know.”

“Even charmwitches?” I asked.

“Yes. All witches can do it. Think of it as cooking. Everyone can follow directions, but there is a difference between a person who cooks and a chef,” Lana said. “Inventing new potions require skill as well as a magic unique to herbwitches.”

“Is there anything charmwitches can do that herbwitches can too?” I asked.

Lana set aside her ladle with a clatter and wiped her hands on her apron. “Yes, levitation. Most witches learn that out of the womb. However, you’ve yet to learn the skills essential to an herbwitch, so I wouldn’t worry about that,” she said. With a wave of her hand, a new cauldron replaced the old one. “No more dillydallying. Try making the extracting potion yourself.”

I perspired more, but not because of the heat. “Am I ready?”

I’ve only ever read about potion making in books, and the only magic I had done was see colors. And that was completely involuntary.

Lana continued organizing the space. A dish of chopped lavender whizzed past my head, narrowly missing my face.

I certainly hadn’t learned to make things levitate either.

She finally turned when the only thing left on the counter was a leather notebook.

“You will never be ready unless you start,” she said, pushing the recipe book toward me. “Now go wash your hands.”

I felt even more incompetent crouching amongst the bushes behind Lana’s cottage, scrubbing my hands with the ice-cold water that gushed out a low faucet. If I had been born a real witch, I could easily fill a dish with water with a flick of my wrist. With a sigh, I dried my hands on my skirts, trying not to be too disappointed. It wasn’t as if I could practice magic outside of lessons.

When I went back inside, dishes and jars of ingredients waited for me on the counter. Lana pointed at the recipe book without a word, looking very much like my old governess.

I obediently read it.

Ingredients:

2 cups water

Rinds from five limes

5 tbsp crushed lentils

3 drops brittlebrush oil

1 tsp azoola extract

Directions:

Pour in water and bring to a simmer. Drop in rinds, thinly sliced. Mix crushed lentils with brittlebrush oil and add the mixture to the cauldron. Let potion sit for five minutes before splashing azoola extract. Stir counterclockwise for three minutes. Let the potion rest for ten minutes.

“Is that all?” I said, bewildered. It looked like something straight out of Theodora’s cookbook, except for the strange ingredients I had never heard of. “Can’t humans make potions too, if they have all the ingredients?”

“Of course not,” Lana said. “It may seem as straightforward as any recipe, but only witches can truly bind these ingredients together in a way that makes them work. You will find that you pour some of yourself—your own magic, that is—into the cauldron every time you make a potion.”

I nodded, though not fully comprehending. Pouring a bit of myself into a cauldron did not sound appealing.

“Well? What are you standing around for?” Lana said. “Fetch the water.”

Grabbing an empty pitcher, I went to the faucet again, grumbling quietly so Lana wouldn’t hear. I simply had to figure out how to levitate objects.

By the time I filled the cauldron, I realized why Lana compared potion making to cooking. On paper, the instructions seemed easy enough. The challenge was carrying them out.

“You’re slicing them too thickly.”

I fumbled with the scalpel and went back to a thicker piece rind. I ended up slicing off a miniscule portion, nearly impaling the tip of my finger in the process. My cheeks burned.

The witch made a noise at the back of her throat. “Never mind that. The water is simmering.”

I scraped the lime rinds into the cauldron. They landed with a