Page 146 of The Hearth Witch’s Guide to Spite & Spellwork

“Getting there?” Hopeful, but uncertain. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about my grandmother’s town house.”

Avery’s heart froze. “Oh?”

“And I was wondering if you’d be interested in…” Saga fidgeted. “It’s a big space, and it’s all mine, and after everything that happened at Samhain… I do want to move in.”

“Oh.”

“But I’ve been thinking about my apartment and our partnership, and maybe over tea we can discuss turning it into an office for the both of us?”

That, Avery had not been expecting. “For both?”

“So we have a base where we can go that isn’t our homes. You were talking about how people used to come to you, maybe you could start doing that again between your bigger cases for the council.”

Avery’s hand shakily raised to rest over where she could feel her heart had begun beating once more. Loudly and overzealous in the excitement. “Are you certain?”

Saga beamed. “Yeah, I’ve already asked Leigh.”

“That would be…” A partnership. That she was suggesting. Not something to pick up when interest struck but an active partnership. Avery tried not to sound too eager. “That would be wonderful.”

“I think so too.” Her excitement seemed to bubble for a moment, then fizzle with her next admission. “And I’m visiting my mother this weekend up in Oxford.” Her smile wasn’t forced, but there was a strain that dampened the brightness for a moment. “I know, very unlike me. But given what I know now… I want to make an effort to meet her on her level. I found a book that I am hoping to pick up tomorrow that talks about the history of the witch trials in multiple countries through a purely academic lens. I thought we might start an odd little book club as a way to reconnect. I can use it to connect her work to my interests…”

Avery stopped Saga from opening the door to the outside. “Saga.” She hoped she sounded gentle. “Removing memories isn’t like amnesia.”

“That’s not what this is,” the woman said.

“Is it not?”

Saga pressed her lips together. “I don’t have any illusions about undoing the magic or jogging her memory somehow, but if I’m at least able to build some kind of relationship with her, it will be worth it.” It was not the most convincing argument, but Avery could not begrudge her companion’s hope. Hope, even false hope, had a way of carrying one through anything. “It may be a lost cause, but I want to try. I made a promise I’d try.”

It was not the type of endeavor Avery could have ever managed with her own parent. Even before the madness had fully taken the Erlking, he was cruel and lethal. But perhaps Avery might dare to eventually undergo a similar endeavor in relation to Gideon. “As a fellow champion of the alleged lost cause, I salute you,” Avery mused.

“Any updates on Iona, then?”

The question made Avery’s heart stop. Saga was notorious for seeing through her idiosyncrasies with disturbing accuracy, but it usually happened in the moment when she was actively avoiding a topic. This was the first time Saga had prodded at that subject without any warning. “H-how do you mean?”

“Proving that she’s the one who gave Roxanne Egan the mirror in the first place.”

She wasn’t sure if it was relief she felt or foolishness. “No.” She breathed the word. “Unfortunately, I am afraid even with your testimony, we do not have enough to prove it.”

“But she said she recovered it herself.”

“I know, but if we’re going to take someone that high in society down, who undoubtedly has more incriminating information about everyone in this city than we could ever hope to have on her…” Avery’s eyes averted. “I am afraid it is simply not in the cards this time, Saga.”

There was an appraising look to Saga’s gaze, the kind of scrutiny that preceded unfortunate observations.

“What about Hugh?” It felt like a dirty trick, using her companion’s old wound to shift focus away from Avery’s. “Have you spoken to him since his non-apology?”

“Ha.” It was meant to sound like a laugh, but it was anything but as the woman doubled back to her own apartment. “No, but you know what I did get in the mail the other day?” She clung to the doorframe so she could reach around to the shelf beside the door, grabbing a glossy card. “They sent me a save-the-date.”

Avery frowned at the now-familiar smiling couple. In the newspaper, it had been one thing. In color, they seemed frightfully similar looking. Beneath their nearly identical eyes, noses, and chins was a date for May of next year and the words “Hugh and Lana are getting married!”

“That is almost the exact day he and I were planning to get married, if you’re wondering,” said Saga. “In the same church. He is doing exactly what we did the first time, but with the bride he actually wants to marry.”

“His own sister?”

Saga snatched the postcard out of Avery’s hand. “Don’t say that. She’s utterly gorgeous.” She replaced the postcard inside.

There were two things that struck Avery uncomfortably. The first was that her words had implied they looked related, not that Lana looked unattractive, the second was that something about Saga’s tone implied something comparative. Lana was gorgeous, and therefore, Saga was not. “Saga, you can’t compare yourself—”