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 ...