Page 66 of The Hearth Witch’s Guide to Spite & Spellwork

Saga reached across the table to place a hand on Avery’s folded arm.

It had been a gesture of reassurance, but the changeling tilted her head and nuzzled her cheek into it. “I don’t think you should move.”

“My hand?”

“Apartments. I think we work really well together, and I will miss you. So you should stay, and we should solve all the things together.” Her eyes closed.

Is she falling asleep? “Avery?”

“This is nice,” Avery answered. “Why don’t I let people touch me more often? For once nothing feels too sharp.” Her shoulders relaxed.

“Too sharp?”

“Too in focus. It makes my head hurt. Everything is always too loud or too bright. I cannot ignore anything, and so everything feels like needles.” Avery smiled like she had a secret. “Except you. You do not feel like needles.”

Saga breathed a laugh. “No? What do I feel like?”

“Home.” The answer surprised both of them, but Avery continued. “Which is remarkable, because I cannot recall when anything felt like home.”

“Not even when you were a child?”

Avery shook her head. “Especially not then.” Her eyes were glassy. “I have very few memories of my mother from before that night. Truth be told, I do not know if they are real or dreams I just desperately want to be real.”

“Before what night, Avery?”

Avery averted her eyes, focusing on the way the incense smoke danced and twisted in the air. “When Anselm killed my mother.”

Something lurched in Saga’s chest. “You told me he was killing children.”

“He was,” Avery answered. “He was known for it even before they said he went mad.” She sat up but layered her own hand over Saga’s. “If the Erlking was ever sane. It was his favorite punishment for mortals. He thought death was too easy for them—a way out. But to have to live the rest of their lives knowing their legacy had died?” She shook her head. “Oh, he did delight in that misery.”

“How do you mean?”

“You have heard the story of the Pied Piper? A magical ratcatcher was cheated by villagers out of what they owed him, so he lured their children away or to their deaths, depending on the fairy tale? In the late thirteenth century, the villagers of Hamelin, Germany, were overcome by plague. They made a deal with the Erlking, I do not know the specifics. I do not know if it was a deal they went back on or if they simply did not consider the cost his magic would demand.” She smiled bitterly. “He took one hundred and thirty children into Faerie as his payment.”

“What happened to them?” Saga whispered.

“It was before my time, but I expect the same horrible fate that happened to any human taken prisoner. Put to work until they expired, which, unfortunately, happens a lot quicker when your body is enthralled to keep going even after your mind is screaming to stop.”

Saga flinched. “I thought enthralling someone was against the laws of magic?”

“Mm,” Avery confirmed. “I’m afraid you will find that was extended to include protecting mortals only after my father’s passing.” Her head lolled to the side as she considered this. “I suppose I helped with that. That is comforting. That does make a nice balm on the two hundred years of nightmares.”

Saga used her free hand to sprinkle more lavender over the charcoal. She was starting to feel a little mixed up herself now. “Okay, so he killed your mother, but that isn’t why you killed him?”

“It is not why,” Avery whispered. “But it is how.” She must have seen the confusion in Saga’s face and took pity by elaborating. “I had been making plans on how to do it, but I needed a weapon strong enough.”

The sword she got from Iona. “So you went to…someone for a weapon of justice, and she saw the scales in you and twisted it into her benefit and made it revenge.”

Avery slowly nodded. “I did not know until that day what had truly happened to my mother. I do not know how she knew what happened to my mother.” The fog around the memory must have been thicker than the rest even with the lavender, because Avery struggled to form the words.

“Don’t tell me anything you can’t,” Saga urged quickly.

“I just do not remember.” Her hand tightened on Saga’s. “Revenge is a powerful motivator. I remember the plans I made before… But after I made that deal…” She shook her head. “All I have is the unending emptiness in me when it was over.” Avery focused a hard stare on Saga, trying to break through the haze. “Promise me you will not go to her about Hugh.”

She seemed so coherent now, but was that merely the effects of the lavender? She was still far more open than she had been in the past. Would she remember all of this? “I promise.”

“Good…” Avery took Saga’s mug. “Are you drinking this?” She took a sip herself. “Warms the soul.”