“S-sorry, I…just don’t want to get separated,” explained Saga, feeling her cheeks burn in embarrassment. Goddess, did she think she was trying to make a pass at her?
Both Avery’s hands were shoved into her coat pockets now. “I won’t lose you.” Despite what felt previously like rejection, there was something very intimate about how she spoke that sentence.
Was she receiving mixed signals or simply misinterpreting them? Saga stuck her own hands awkwardly in her pockets and kept her head down as she wove through the crowds to cross the street and make their way to the market.
They arrived from Southampton Street, but it wasn’t until they turned into the courtyard designated for street performers outside St. Paul’s Church that Avery spoke up again. “I recognize that.” There was a notable relief in her voice.
“Very good,” said Saga, then turned and pointed to the market building itself. “What about that?”
Avery followed the gesture warily, but her eyes widened in recognition. “I do…” she whispered. “Fates, we passed by this before, didn’t we? I was so distracted by all the modern…”
“Has it changed much?” Saga asked.
“The roof is new—well, new to me. I think I can find my way from here.” Avery considered Saga and, after some kind of internal debate, offered her arm. “Best not to get lost.”
Saga took it gingerly as they made their approach toward the South Hall. The market, as usual for a weekend, was bustling, and it would take very little to be separated as they entered the Piazza.
“It is curious how things can change so much,” Avery mused at the raucous market, “yet remain at heart, utterly the same.”
“I can only imagine. Do you think your friend will have changed?”
The expression that graced Avery’s face was so gentle, so content, it seemed foreign. “Not in any way that matters. Two hundred years is a blink to creatures like Esteri.”
“Tell me about her?”
Avery’s smile faltered, and her posture stiffened. Was she feeling protective of this friend? Fromher? “She is one of the Archfey from farther up north.”
Saga gulped. Perhaps not. What couldshedo to an Archfey? “That sounds important.”
“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 herbeloved’smodus 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.”
