“I know.”
“No one has used that sort of magic since—”
“Iknow.” Avery took the phone back and attempted to rewind the same way. Instead, the picture shifted to the first one she’d attempted to take. This video was far less helpful. She swiped her finger again and it landed on the picture of Esteri—and Fiore. Clearly the tulikettu had taken the portrait herself, likely before she’d had her partner deliver the phone. She wasgrinning widely, the Dragon pinned awkwardly against her in a headlock masquerading as a hug. “Would you mind dropping me off somewhere before you head home?”
***
Hygge was bustling; it was one of the few comforting London constants between this life and the before times. The warm air was a welcome embrace accompanied by the faint scent of clove and cinnamon.
Her hands in her coat pockets and her head bowed, Avery wove through the crowd. She took note of a few key tables. A book club was nestled in the back of the autumn section. Some sort of birth celebration had taken over all of spring. Summer, dotted with smaller groups of friends: there were shots being taken, ice-cold mugs of ale being clinked, and a bottle of mead shared between whispers.
Avery found herself drawn to winter, sitting down at the bar itself.
Given London’s blustery and rainy weather, patrons were currently less inclined to be surrounded by this particular season, regardless of how majestic it appeared out the great windows, or the inviting blaze of the fireplace. Winter was not entirely unoccupied, harboring two sets of couples, one by the windows, the other situated near the flames. They spoke quietly, nestled close so they could take advantage of the section’s illusion of intimacy.
Avery allowed her body to relax into the cushioned stool, her elbows propped on the bar itself and her shoulders hunched into a comfortable slump as her face rested in her palms. She listened to the music of the crowd. It was soothing. There was the familiar scent of what could have been wassail. Her eyes slid closed and for the first time, she truly let herself remember.
Tilde preferred to sit by the fire. Her hands were always cold. Thom would often sit on the floor near her feet like a loyal lovesick puppy. Oliver insisted on getting the drinks—even though inevitably he struggled to not spill them as he brought them over. Isabella, despite her nose being deeplyburied in a book, would rise up at the perfect moment to take two of the overflowing mugs off his hands.
There was music most nights. Either from a musician playing in the corner or everyone joining in song. Oliver was always half a second behind everyone in a carol, but he made up for what he lacked in rhythm through sheer volume. It was all gone now. No way to bring them back. No way to bring any of it back.
“Didn’t I get you a phone so you could actually call to let me know you were coming?”
An involuntary smile. Avery dropped her hands and met eyes with the tulikettu on the other side of the bar. “Fioreneglectedto give me the number.”
Esteri’s ears—her true ears—were poking out of the long radiant strands of hair that had been left to dangle freely. They perked up in amusement at this information. “Aw, they hate you so much, it’s adorable.” She reached out a hand, opening and closing her fingers in a “gimme” fashion. “Give.”
Avery reached into her coat pocket to produce the mobile. “Did you tell Fiore about Saga?”
“Mm,” Esteri confirmed, filling in her contact information. “Should I not have?”
“It’s not that,” Avery hedged. “I just didn’t realize that acquaintance was worth mentioning to the council.”
Esteri snorted and held the phone out to take a photo of herself, winking before she added that to the top of her contact page. “Fiore is not a council member to me, they are my partner.”
“I understand that,” Avery grumbled.
“I don’t know if you do,” Esteri admitted, setting the phone on the counter. “Not yet, but you will. One day you will have someone in your life you wish to tell everything to, no matter how meaningless it may seem.”
“That sounds tedious and exhausting.”
“What is this really about?” Esteri folded her arms. “You have a sadnessabout you.”
Avery took back the phone when it was offered to her, using the moment to collect her thoughts. “This case is weighing on me. It doesn’t feel as it used to, I’m overwhelmed and confused—I feel common. The untangling of it all is so much more than what it used to be.”
“Averoinen,46 theworldis so much more than it used to be.” She folded her arms on the counter and leaned toward her friend. “Be kind to yourself, you just need time to catch up.”
“The more time I waste, the more bodies pile up.”
“Time tends to have that effect on mortality,” offered Esteri. When she received not even the hint of a smile for the joke, her ears flattened in disappointment. “Tosikko,”47 she tsked.
“I’mdrowning, Es.”
It was the bare-boned admission that caught Esteri’s attention. She eyed Avery up and down with a critical appraising eye. She then vanished behind the bar, ducking down to produce two crystal mugs etched with the symbol of the oak tree. “We drink.”
“Now?”
“If booze, tar, or sauna do not help, the disease is fatal.” A wine decanter sat behind the bar on top of a copper mechanism that suspended it just above a small tea light. The flame itself held the same blue-green glow of the tip of Esteri’s foxtail. Revontulet; foxfire. She retrieved the decanter and poured them each a glass. “Glühwein. We import it from a Lindwurm in Germany.”
