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

splash, sending a few drops into the fire. “Sorry,” I said sheepishly.

“The lentils and brittlebrush oil.” Lana motioned to the counter. “Not a moment to waste. And please be careful with the oil. That is my only vial.”

I glanced at the glass vial that was no larger than my thumb. I decided to handle the lentils first.  “You can’t get more?” I measured out the five tablespoons and poured them into a mortar.

“Supplies are hard to come by. Even the witch-made ones,” Lana said. “Plants with magical properties are overlooked in favor of growing regular crops, which don’t turn out well anyhow.” There was a hint of bitterness in her voice.

“Oh,” I managed to say. My hands shook as I dropped three drops of the bright green oil. The scent was a mix of peppermint and chives. It fizzed when it soaked into the lentils. I immediately screwed the cap back on and began crushing the concoction with a pestle.

Witch Village was in trouble. The way Lana made it sound, they were worse off than they were in the past. My thoughts strayed to the royals. Did they know how witches are living? Would they care if they knew? Would Ash care if he knew?

I hesitated. Surely his opinion of witches would not be favorable if he finds out the queen was ill with a witch-made poison. I ground the mixture harder. There was no way I could tell him what I knew without exposing myself.

The next best thing was to prove Duchess Wilhelmina guilty.

Lana made it clear the week before she did not condone meddling in human affairs, especially royal affairs. But I was determined. I had scoured my potion-making book for something that may help, but to no avail. My last resort was to ask Lana.

“I’ve been wondering,” I said, keeping my voice casual, “how many kinds of potions are there?”

“There are many. Herbwitches invent new ones every day.”

“Is there a potion that just...kills?”

Lana was silent for a moment. “You’re speaking of poisons. Not the ones for critters, I presume?”

I shook my head.

“I’d be lying if I say not a single witch has created a poison meant to kill humans,” Lana said. Her voice was grave. “But none of them have made it into the hands of non-magic folk. Except one.”

My interest peaked. Could there only be one witch-made poison above ground? “What is it called?” I asked.

“Manbane.” Lana’s face looked grimmer than I had ever seen it. Her eyes flicked to me, sharp and suspicious. “Why are you asking?”

Questions of what manbane did and what it was made of died on my lips. I’d be a fool to prod her.

I shrugged. “No reason. Is there a potion that makes someone tell the truth?”

I felt Lana looking at me. “Yes, there is,” she said slowly. “But it requires a rare ingredient.”

“Really? What?”

“Gold.”

Perhaps I could use some of my own jewelry once I beg the recipe off Lana. But my plans were crushed when she spoke again.

“Five pounds of pure gold.”

I choked on my saliva. “Five pounds?” I said, sputtering.

“That’s right,” Lana said in a clipped voice. “Five pounds. No more, no less.”

I gripped the pestle a little harder. “Can we make it?” I ventured to ask.

She snorted. “Only if you bring five pounds of gold, girl. Now stop smashing the lentils before the water boils over.”

The next fifteen minutes I spent sweat-drenched and nervous as I worked under Lana’s scrutiny. It was as if my limbs had forgotten how to function as I trembled and slipped and poured, but there was a new sensation I experienced amongst it all. My fingertips tingled as I went through the motions. A hazy swirl of purple-red filled my vision and drizzled into the cauldron like rain on a summer day.

So that was what Lana meant by pouring a part of myself into the potion.

By the end of it all, I had a glass of cloudy green liquid before me. Lana set hers beside it. Compared to hers, mine was two shades too dark and much too lumpy. My embarrassment mounted even as Lana assured me that potion making took years of practice to perfect.

“Let us test these, then,” Lana said. She rummaged through her cupboard and brought out two empty jars. I recognized them as the containers she used for her general antidote. A subtle golden glow emitted within them.

Lana uncorked her potion and poured half of it into a jar. Almost immediately, the green liquid turned amber.

“Is that the general antidote?” I said, widening my eyes.

“That’s right. The extracting potion turns into the potion it’s extracting, if done correctly. If I had more of it, I wouldn’t have to make another batch of antidote.”

“Can’t you make more? It seems like it’ll save a lot of time.”

Lana shook her head. “I don’t have enough brittlebrush oil to make big batches. It’s ridiculously rare as well, so no witch in their right mind would use so much for an extracting potion.” She paused gestured to my vial. “Try yours.”

Expecting the worst, I poured my attempt of the potion in the other jar. Nearly all of it vanished when it made contact. A miniscule drop of amber liquid rested at the bottom.

“If you made it right it would retain the same volume,” Lana pointed out.

I sighed in dismay. “Sorry I wasted your brittlebrush oil.”

WHEN I RETURNED TO the Strongfoots’, the house was empty. The butler informed me that Tori and Genevieve had gone for a stroll in the palace gardens and that Lord Strongfoot was in town with Vicky and Ria. I retired to my room, where I gazed glumly at my failed potion in its lumpy glory.

The shade of green reminded me of when Lydia taught Genevieve and I to embroider strawberry vines. Mine ended up looking like asparagus stalks. My stepmother scolded me for not possessing an artistic eye like Genevieve.

Afterward, I had gone to Papa and asked him to excuse me from Lydia’s lessons. He consented. I stayed