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

so many times that I had learned the recipe by heart. Thankfully, I had some experience baking them, but they never tasted quite as good as Theodora’s. It never occurred to me that the exquisite taste of all Theodora’s food was due to her magic. I was eager to try it myself.

I spent the entire afternoon and the earlier part of the evening sifting and mixing and whisking. It was all very standard, but the most peculiar sensation overtook me as I made the tarts—very much like the sensation of making that potion at Lana’s cottage.

My arms and fingers tingled and my chest felt warm. Even without touching my crystal I saw a pulsing purple aura seeping into the dough from my hands. I was using magic. And it felt good.

By the time dinner was served, the tarts were ready.

Jasmine and a couple of other kitchen maids peered over my shoulder as I plated the pastries. They were not immaculately shaped like Theodora’s. Some had too much filling, others had too-thin crusts, and I had forgotten to sprinkle sugar on several. But I knew I had done a decent job.

I plucked one off the plate and invited the others to do the same. One bite and I knew I had done it. The peculiar, zingy aftertaste in Theodora’s tarts was present, though while hers tasted more mellow, mine tasted of something zesty.

“This is...not bad at all,” Jasmine said, her dark eyebrows shooting up to her hairline.

I smiled. It was as good of a compliment as I could get from her.

Tori and Lord Strongfoot, on the other hand, were more enthusiastic in their commentary.

“By golly, I’m never letting you leave,” Tori said, reaching for a third tart.

Lord Strongfoot reached for his fifth, a shower of crumbs and sugar falling from his beard like snow as he took a bite. “I’m almost afraid to say it, but Amarante, these are better than my wife’s custard pie!”

For the next couple of days, I spent my time in the kitchens. Jasmine had begrudgingly allowed me to help out with daily meals. What I lacked in skill I made up for in magic, and though no one knew why the food tasted marginally better, it was agreed that my presence in the kitchen had something to do with it.

As I continued to read Lana’s book on potion-making, I realized that attention to precision was a skill that did not come magically. But I was building on that very skill under Jasmine’s watchful eye. By the end of the week, I figured out how to mince and slice evenly and knew exactly how long it took for onions to cook through. It was only a matter of time before my growing confidence in the kitchen translated to potion-making, something I was sure Lana would be satisfied with the next time I saw her.

But as I learned the skill of measuring and slicing and timing, something else was nagging the back of my mind. I did not know how to levitate objects. It seemed like a pointless skill to acquire. I certainly wouldn’t be able to make things fly around outside of Witch Village—yet I wanted to master it. For the first time in my life I had something special and I had every intention of making the best of it.

One night when Genevieve was asleep, I attempted to move a perfume bottle. It was on the vanity a few feet away from my bed. I positioned myself at the foot board, my arms crossed under my chin, and stared hard at the tiny glass bottle.

Nothing happened. I shifted and slipped my crystal out of my nightgown. Magic pulsated underneath the smooth surface.

I knew now that there was eucalyptus oil in the perfume meant to calm nerves. But it still did not move. I analyzed the bottle, squinting for details in the darkness which the moonlight barely chased away. It was skinny at the top and fatter at the bottom, like a pear. The glass had a textured surface and the knob at the top of it was a perfect, smooth sphere.

I thought about tipping the bottle over by its skinny top. Magic thrummed in the crystal. The perfume bottle wobbled.

I smiled so widely my cheeks ached. The bottle did not tip over and it certainly hadn’t moved the direction I wanted it to, but it did not discourage me any less. It was a start, and more importantly, it was a sign—a sign that I was capable.

The next morning, I woke up with dry eyes and sore cheeks and a plethora of misplaced items on the vanity.

“Why are you smiling?” Genevieve asked as she helped me into my dress. Her brow raised when she caught my gaze in the mirror.

I only grinned. “I think I’m actually getting good at something.”

20

Between the four wings of the palace was a sprawling square of space with trimmed lawns and flourishing flower hedges. It was there we gathered the next morning beneath a large gazebo.

“Now, I want all of you to pair up,” Lady Hortensia said, projecting her high-pitched voice. “There are eight boats, so only sixteen can go at a time.”

In the center of all the greenery was an enormous man-made pond, bordered by tastefully arranged rocks and willow trees. A row of canoes bobbed near the edge, awaiting pairs of debutantes and young men for a morning of rowing and mingling.

“Actually ma’am, there are twelve boats,” Edward Thornbrush piped up, his cheeks as red and freckled as ever.

Lady Hortensia smiled at him, an expression that did not flatter her heavily powdered face.

This morning she was dressed in a gown of gauzy fabric, not unlike Miriam’s shawls, embroidered with iridescent butterflies. It was almost blinding in the dappled sunlight. I glanced behind her shoulder and caught a glimpse of Ash standing in the shadows.

“The pond is only so large, Edward,” Lady Hortensia said with a girlish giggle. “If we use all twelve there will be no semblance