Espen lifted a shaking branch. “Fulfill bargain first.”
So Espen wouldn’t tell Senna anymore until she came before her. “Please,” Senna couldn’t help but ask.
Espen made no answer.
Take me home.
In the space of a handful of heartbeats, the wind carried her across the ocean, back to the room where Joshen sat waiting for her. Senna took a gasping breath.
Joshen started. “Did it work? What does Espen want as payment?”
Senna stared at him, her eyes moist. “She wants me to kill her.”
6. Wastrel
“Brusenna,” Prenny snapped. “Are you trying to fail?”
Startled out of her daze, Senna sat upright. Her potion, which had been a cloudy topaz color, was now a muddy brown. Using a rag to protect her hands, she pulled the beaker off the flame and dumped its contents into another to cool off. Then she drizzled a few needle-like princher leaves into the liquid and swirled it gently. It immediately went from a muddy brown to coffee black.
She held the beaker to her nose and sniffed. Burned herbs.
Senna felt like throwing something. She settled for setting the beaker down so hard the potion sloshed angrily. At this stage, it was supposed to be the color of apple cider and smell like resin. She was to put in the princher leaves just before the first bubbles formed. She’d let it get too hot. Now she’d have to start over. Three days worth of work, ruined.
And that much longer before she could be done with her Apprenticeship and finally be seen as a full Keeper. She pried her hair away from her sticky forehead, wishing a breeze would work its way through the outdoor pavilion.
Prenny sniffed the contents. “You’ve killed it.”
Senna buried her head in her hands. Prenny always insisted potions were full of life. It was the life they held that made them work. They had to be treated gently. Never boiled or frozen. Only fresh ingredients. “Yes. I killed it. I managed to save the world, but I can’t manage a midlevel potion.”
Prenny snorted. “Oh, don’t be so dramatic.”
“Dramatic? People are dying!” As soon as Senna said it, she wanted to capture the words and shove them back in her mouth.
Prenny’s voice went from stern to unsure. “Brusenna? Is this about Tarten? I know you and I don’t agree with the other Heads, but they really do have the Witches’ best interest at heart.”
“It’s in the Witches’ best interest to look after the world, not just themselves.” When Prenny didn’t respond, Senna dug the pads of her fingers into her tired eyes. The resin made them sting.
Even with Joshen snoring softly on the floor beside her, chaotic thoughts had kept sleep at bay. He’d kissed her goodbye when they’d parted. She still felt the impression of his lips on hers.
Prenny went from soft with concern to rigid so fast it was as if someone had slid a rod up her backbone. “This is an Apprentice class. You may have the strongest song on this island, but potions are more than raw talent. It’s the three P’s.” She ticked them off on her fingers. “Patience, practice, and persistence.”
Knowing the Head was just warming up for one of her famous lectures, Senna stifled a groan.
Prenny took a breath and settled in. “It’s a good thing the harvest is coming up. We’re nearly out of chesli pollen, and you squandered at least a pinch on that.” She waved at Senna’s burnt potion. “Disaster. I told the others it was too soon to promote you to an Apprentice. Now—Mistin!”
Senna nearly startled out of her chair at Prenny’s outburst.
The Head marched toward Senna’s cowering friend without a backward glance. “You are far too advanced to be adding porfor to a drinking draught! Do you want to wrest the truth from your subject, or keep them hunched over the privy for an entire day?”
Senna could have kissed Mistin for sparing her another of Prenny’s tongue lashings, even if the girl hadn’t saved her on purpose.
Senna glared at her ruined potion. With a sigh, she abandoned it and marched over to the stack of potion books kept in a waterproof cabinet in the center of the pavilion. She reached for Intermediate Potions, but hesitated. Next to it was another book—Master Potions by Linsee Chrissin.
After glancing around, Senna pulled it down and flipped through the pages until she reached the potion she had in mind—Ioa. It was extremely complicated—nearly a hundred plants mixed in dozens of different ways on an extremely tight schedule. But she already knew that because she’d tried to make it once already and failed miserably.
Honestly, it was probably still too advanced for her, but if she were going to sneak off the island, the potion would be indispensable. Checking to make sure Prenny was still busy with her scolding, Senna slipped the ponderous book in her satchel and set it down on her table.