Saga laughed again. Boisterous, from the diaphragm, and utterly disarming. “Is it that hard to believe?”
“No, I mean—not that I don’t think you’re—” Avery was floundering with this surge of new information. Of course, women were now allowed in the university. It was absurd they hadn’t been the last time Avery had been there, and yet it took her by surprise. “You must think I’m… I’m…”
“Spiraling from an honest mistake?” The interjection was offered gently. “Cross my heart, I wasn’t offended. City and university have the same name. Easy mistake. And in your defense, I don’t imagine it’s typical to find Oxford graduates waiting tables at a café on Baker Street.”
Avery noted the way Saga’s gaze drifted. “What did you study?”
“Medicine.”
“You’re a doctor?” It was so delightfully unexpected.
“Was,” Saga corrected, then paused, realizing she’d only left three months prior. “Or rather was going to be. I suppose I still technically am. My license should be good for another five years before I have to revalidate, but… I’ve decided not to finish my second foundation year.”
Avery considered her tattoo in a new light. Mercy before glory. “Did something happen?”
Saga laughed again but it sounded hollow. “Yeah, somethinghappened.” She took a deep breath and ran her fingers over the tattoo. “My physiologyprofessor would repeat this during his lessons. When you’re examining someone, trying to find the solution to what’s ailing them, it can be hard to remember they’re a human being, not just data in a chart. It was important that compassion should lead us, not scientific achievement.”
“And that was difficult for you, to remember to extend compassion?” Avery asked. A lack of empathy for humans among the fey was unfortunately a common occurrence, but she wouldn’t have thought to count Saga among them.
“It was difficult remembering I needed to extend that compassion to myself as well as my patients,” Saga clarified. “I never wanted to be a doctor, it just seemed like what I was supposed to do. I did really enjoy helping people, and the puzzle aspect of figuring out what was wrong and finding the solution… But I was so busy pretending to be who I thought people in my life wanted me to be, I’d forgotten everything else. And it turns out when your life completely falls apart, everything else is pretty damn important.” She met Avery’s gaze imploringly. “Do you know what I mean?”
“Intimately,” Avery whispered the word. It felt secret, this shared vulnerability; the kind of nakedness only shared with lovers, or strangers you knew you’d never see again. Her mouth was dry, but the moment was too fragile to risk reaching for her tea. Instead, she relished the sensation of connection, feeling seen and incredibly lonely all at once as the weight of two hundred years without a friend or confidant ached into realization.
A soft chime. The order bell.
Saga moved away to attend to it, and the world grew colder.
Avery sat amid the shattered pieces of that moment, only the twinge in her chest remaining. Her gaze dropped to the counter. Two hundred years. No mortal would have survived it. Every human ally, every friend, even those she’d chosen as her family, gone—theirchildrengone. She struggled to swallow, and she reached for the file once more, opening it to bury herself in the details of the photographs and coroner’s report.
The clink of stoneware on the counter. “Cornish pasties, gravy and mash.”
Avery grunted her thanks, refusing to shift her attention from the fileuntil Saga had left to help another customer. Connection had new dangers now. It made wounds sting that she hadn’t even realized were bleeding. She bristled, focusing on the list of herbs. Wheat straw, sage, turmeric… Were they alchemical? Magical? Medicinal?
Her eyes found Saga once more. She was clearing dishes from tables, a tub balanced against her hip. She stepped in rhythm to the music playing through the café, sharing smiles with customers who bothered to look up and thank her as she cleared their dishes. Avery absently picked up a pasty from her plate, bringing it to her mouth as she watched the woman work the room. But that pasty became a rather immediate distraction. Perfectly flaky, the meat within it succulent and seasoned in a thick, flavorful gravy. How any Englishman ate at Hudson’s and didn’t automatically suspect the proprietors of witchcraft simply by the quality of their food was truly the greatest magic in all of London.
“How is everything?” Saga asked once she’d taken back the dishes and returned to the counter.
By now Avery was working on the second pasty, and her mouth was too full to speak. She met the other woman’s gaze sheepishly and gestured to her lips, then covered them with a hand, worried her attempt to hurry chewing would result in something improper.
Saga grinned, toothy and proud. “That good, huh?”
Avery pointed to the pasty and then Saga with a questioning look.
“My great grandmother’s recipe. Well, possiblyhergreat grandmother’s recipe, actually. Pretty simple to make, really.”
Avery swallowed. She took a deep breath as if coming up from the ocean depths. “You bake? Did you bake this?”
Saga’s pink ponytail fluttered back and forth as she shook her head. “We have a designated baker, but I do help sometimes. It’s calming, and I’m good at it.”
“Did that start before or after the medical degree?”
“Before. But can you think of a better hobby for a doctor?” Saga shrugged with another broad grin. “Beats golfing, anyway.”
Avery marveled at this creature curiously. But that resulted in staringonce more, and Saga interpreted it rather quickly.
“Is that weird?”
“It’s unique.” At least, it was unique to Avery. She had to admit more and more she was very out of touch with both sides of the world these days, human and fey alike.
