Page 34 of The Hearth Witch’s Guide to Spite & Spellwork

“It is not far.”

“How far is not far?”

“I am trying to do something nice for you. Stop complaining.”

Avery growled in frustration and began to part her fingers only to feel Esteri tug her down at the elbow so they were eye to eye.

“Peek, and I will actually blind you.”

Avery reluctantly allowed herself to be led. They walked thirty feet down the sidewalk before Esteri had to instruct her up a small set of stairs carefully, one by one. They moved through a door that required Esteri to release her and verbally instruct her to move through it. When Avery felt the door close behind them and the warmth of the interior begin to settle against her cheeks, she sighed. “Esteri, this is ridiculous.”

“You called because you wanted whimsy.” Esteri put a hand on either side of Avery’s arms to move her inch by inch into a position. It would have been a gentle and welcome caress if the specificity didn’t make her so wary.

“I called because I wanted to spend time with you,” grumbled Avery.

“Is that not what I said?” More adjusting. A quick head turn in the opposite direction caused Esteri’s hair to whip against Avery’s forearms. She could smell hints of pine and spices, like mulled wine on a crisp winter’s day. What was she looking at? Esteri moved away, abandoning Avery to the open air.

Avery counted the seconds. Five.

Esteri’s hands planted on her shoulders from behind and she could feel the woman’s form press into the curve of her back, filling every gap between them.

Avery held her breath to prevent herself from choking on it. While it had been centuries since she had viewed Esteri through any sort of romantic lens in her mind, it appeared her body would require more time to catch up.

Esteri’s chin perched on Avery’s shoulder, her temple and cheek gently brushing against her jaw and neck. When was the last time anyone had been this close to her?

The memory of lips against Avery’s cheek flooded her senses, and her breathing hitched as old feelings intermixed with new. It had been so brief, yet she had memorized the sensation of Saga’s kiss against her skin. Tender. Soft—

No. That wasn’t… This was Esteri, and Esteri was trying to estimate what Avery’s view would be once she opened her eyes. Avery could tell the shorter woman was pushed up on her toes by the way her body had slid against hers and then back again as she let go and returned to her natural height.

“You may look.”

How red would her face be if she let down her hands now? No, she couldn’t. Absolutely not.

“Averoinen? Did you hear me?”

“I heard you.” The reply was petulant and muffled. Deep breathing. Slow. Practiced. It lowered the heart rate. She made a show of pressing her hands firmly against her skin with her next inhalation, praying this would account for any remaining flush in her cheeks. She dropped her hands with an exaggerated sigh, revealing what she hoped appeared to be a dramatic eye roll at Esteri’s demand for theatrics.

That illusion was short-lived. No sooner had her gaze landed on the scene in front of her than her face slackened in awe.

Books. More books than she’d ever seen in one location lined every visible wall. Hallways branched out and stairs reached to an open second floor that held even more books. Avery felt as if she’d stepped into a literal temple of knowledge. It was quiet, and a faint aroma of musty wood pulp, combined with dust and glue, perfumed the air. It was truly magnificent.

“Where…are we?”

“The London Library—Well, the Westminster branch,” smiled Esteri far too proudly. She closed her eyes, face scrunching in thought. “Established in 1841 thanks to an initiative by Thomas Carlyle, who took issue with the library system at the time.” Had she memorized it simply because she knew Avery would want to know?

“There are so many…”

“And there’s a branch in every borough now.”

Avery felt the unfamiliar prickle of tears welling in her eyes. She’d never seen anything so beautiful. “And who can read them?”

“Anyone.”

Avery pressed her lips together to suppress the tightness rising in her throat. “To think I might have seen this come to fruition if I had never been put under at Blackthorn.”

“Well,” Esteri began in that tone that suggested there was a more nuanced story behind the history. “Initially it was established as a private Mundane library, where only members could access the collection, and to become a member you had to pay dues.” There was a hesitation that Avery recognized as the one that typically preceded the delivery of unpleasant news. “The Winter Council bought the library and redesignated it for public use.”

Avery cut her eyes toward her friend. “An uncharacteristically altruistic act.”