Page 31 of The Hearth Witch’s Guide to Magic & Murder (The Hemlock Saga #1)

“It is not.” But Saga was not convinced.

“While strong magic certainly can help you win a seat on the council, it does not entitle you to one. And even if it did, Esteri would not want a seat at that table. That sort of nonsense is far more her beloved’s modus operandi.

” The word “beloved” had never sounded like such an epithet.

“I take it you two don’t get along? Her partner and you?”

“Oil and water have a better chance of mixing.”

“Guess that’s a comfort—you can make friends with immortal beings and still despise who they date.”

“Despise is a strong word,” Avery protested half-heartedly. “So are loathe, detest, abhor, and execrate.”

Saga laughed and shook her head. “And this partner is on the council?”

“Yes, another Archfey.”

“So… Not all Archfey sit on the council, but all council members are Archfey?”

“Something like that.”

“And what exactly is this council?”

“Irritating.” It was a petulant response.

She caught Saga’s look and took a deep breath.

“The Winter Council is an appointed group of Archfey who reign over a portion of the northern hemisphere. It is their sworn duty to ensure the laws of magic are set, unbroken, and that we maintain an invisible but harmonious relationship with humanity while in this realm.”

“This realm?”

“Yes.”

“Implying there are others.”

“Of course.”

Saga’s head spun a little at that, but there would be time later—she hoped—to delve further into it. “So… In the power hierarchy of your world, you have lesser fey or spirits, fey, and Archfey?”

Avery’s face contorted in discomfort. “There’s more to it than that, but if you’re talking about control on magic rather than power within society, yes. Missing a few nuances, mind you, but that is…the rough idea, I suppose.”

“Where do you fall in all that?”

“Outside.” She pulled her coat tighter around her as if a chill had swept through.

“Esteri is one of the tulikettu.31 Tulikettu are old—‘helped create the mortal plane’ old, so the legends go. They’re some of the only non-sidhe that can make that claim.

Well, them, dragons, and maybe a handful of other Archfey. ”

Saga felt her jaw slacken as they came to a stop at one of the rails that overlooked the lower floor of the piazza. “There are dragons?”

In contrast, Avery’s jaw visibly tightened. “There are dragons.”

Saga felt small. Not insignificant, but childlike as a surge of adrenaline rushed through her veins. She bounced a little on the balls of her feet as she whispered her next question. “You mean, I might get to meet a dragon today?”

“Fates, I hope not,” Avery muttered. “There are few certainties in this world, but Fiore’s unfettered hatred for both bad tailoring and me are a few of them.

Which of the two that baneful bureaucrat despises more fluctuates with the weather, so I assume we are tied.

” Her eyes searched a little longer before pointing past the outdoor dining tables of Chez Antoinette at the arched hall beside the stairs. “There, she’ll be in there.”

Saga was doubtful. The only thing down there was the basement entrance to Whittard. “Avery, she may have moved locations since you last saw her…”

“Esteri has owned a café here for centuries now. Of course, back when she started, most coffee shops claiming to be coffee shops were actually brothels,” Avery explained as they headed toward the stairs.

“You know that from experience?” Saga teased.

Avery nodded, missing the innuendo completely. “They were informants. For a price, of course, but I can’t begrudge them that. It isn’t easy for anyone to make their own destiny, especially if you find yourself financially strapped. I was more than happy to pay—it was always good information.”

“You regularly visited prostitutes just for information?”

Another bob of the head, completely oblivious to any insinuation beyond the surface question. “With the number of mortals and fey alike who treat the bedroom like a confessional? Covent Garden nuns were some of my best sources. Practically delivered some of my cases wrapped with a neat little bow.”

“That’s…rather brilliant, actually. Never thought of it like that.”

“I’ll be forever grateful to those women. Taught me to never look a gift whore in the mouth.”

Saga blinked hard, then caught the smile spreading on the other woman’s face. “Did you just make a joke?”

“I did,” Avery confirmed, looking quite chuffed about this fact. “But it was told to me by a madam, so I can’t take credit for the wit.”

Through the archway, there were, as there had always been, two sides, one which led into the bottom level of the Whittard tea shop, including where many would later be seated for afternoon tea, and the other a series of alcoves meant to mimic doors but often used for display only.

Saga must have passed by hundreds of times when shopping next door, yet for the first time as she truly saw the alcoves, she noticed one of them was an actual storefront.

In plain text above the door, it read FACADE.

Facade Interior Design was fully unremarkable in appearance.

In fact, even the sign was so banal in both font and color, she had to reread it multiple times before it stuck.

On display in the windows on either side was a small faux living room setup, made up of colors that didn’t appear light so much as dull.

Even the placement was somehow painfully uninteresting.

The more she stared at them, the more Saga became aware of how bored it was making her, how she’d rather look at literally anything else in the plaza—and when she did, any detail she’d managed to observe slipped from her mind entirely and she nearly forgot what she’d been looking at.

She rubbed her eyes before skimming over the sign in the window that read “By appointment only” and briefly wondered what sort of person would even consider making an appointment at a place like this.

“Something very strange is happening to me,” she muttered.

“A tedium charm,” Avery explained with a note of pride.

“You put something in plain sight, but the spell makes it so painfully tiresome to look at, it renders it practically invisible. Simple, elegant, effective; very Esteri. Don’t worry, once you’ve been inside a few times, it won’t affect you anymore.

” She waved Saga closer and pointed to a call box that had been painted over and blended in to everything else.

“There used to be a key here that you would turn like a doorbell.”

“Something that old probably would have stood out too much today,” said Saga. She forced herself to focus on the call box. “Have you tried pushing the button?”

Avery blinked at her. “What button?” She looked down at her jacket, then back at the wall as if comparing.

It was at that particular moment that Saga understood something as simple as an electric button was a far more recent invention than she’d thought—at least more recent than Avery. She reached forward and gently pressed the slight circular indentation beneath the mesh speaker. “Like this.”

There was no ring as there had likely been before, but when Saga pressed down there was a soft crackle sound from the mesh speaker. “Sésame, ouvre-toi,” Avery said.

A simple little buzz chimed and there was the sound of the door unlocking.

“Modern marvels,” awed Avery.

Saga caught Avery’s arm after she opened the door. “Did you just say ‘open sesame’? In French?”

“From Antoine Galland’s translation of One Thousand and One Nights. Esteri has a curious sense of humor, and a deep affection for fiction.”

As they entered the design shop, the bland beige interior somehow looked even duller.

Not dingy—because dingy would have at least been interesting.

There would have been something to have an opinion on.

As she peeked around this office, her dwindling interest waned with every second, not able to perceive anything long enough to care about it.

The closest feeling she could relate it to would be the last class before a long vacation, dragging on with no importance, simply existing to waste your time because for one reason or another, they couldn’t release you early.

She should have stayed home. This was the worst. It was so mind-numbing it was exhausting.

She wanted to leave. She kept thinking of the hundreds of things outside that would be infinitely more thrilling than standing in this stupid shop.

Whittard of Chelsea just across the hall.

She could get something from the tea bar.

Maybe a few jars to bring home. She was running low, wasn’t she?

Avery led her around the corner to a long hallway of offices. At the end there was a water cooler.

The distant buzz of office chatter made her feel like she had to whisper or not speak at all.

It created a static in her brain interrupting any thought other than how soul destroying it must be to work there.

Every sight, sound, even the smell could be described as monotonously beige, painfully featureless, and utterly unstimulating.

Maybe if she had to stay here she could drown herself with the damn water cooler.

And that was when Avery reached out a hand to the wall…and it rippled.

Every sensory receptor in Saga felt like it woke and snapped to attention. She gawked as the taller woman’s fingers brushed along the wall searchingly, and the wall, doorways and all, reacted like a large swath of fabric.

At last, at the frame of the second office door, she found the selvage and pulled back the entire wall like a curtain, gesturing for Saga to enter. “After you.”