Chapter 16: If You're Not Tart of the Solution, You're Tart of the Problem

Lydia's POV.

When I step across the threshold of Canaries a god*mn bird chirps, and my magic hisses. Canaries is storybook. It’s the penny tile, gleaming windows of baked goods, and jaunty yellow awnings.

This place is an insult to witches.

The three proprietresses even more so.

Bronach, Abella, and Dawn Moirai once belonged to the Friends of Bramble Root coven. Even as witches they’d been common. They were—well technically still are—earth witches with the gift of enchantment.

It’s the most basic kind of magic, and that makes the Bramble Root coven the largest in the city. Despite their numbers, their skills are rudimentary at best.

Whatever the sisters did for their coven to unanchor their magic had to have been drastic. Each coven regulates their own, and despite my digging, I couldn’t unearth--

‘Ha!’ My magic giggles at the unintended pun and I roll my witch’s eye at it.