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The Azathé Tea Room is a strange place, indeed. There are no servers, no menus — do mind our hostess, though, she can get a bit underfoot! Help yourself to a book while you wait, and be sure to shuffle your tarot deck well before placing your order. Harper Hollingsworth wasn’t looking for a friend. She wanted peace and quiet. Someplace to lose herself in a book and not think about her grief, not think about her coven or her disconnect from the craft, not think about being the odd goth out everywhere she went. She didn't want to think about her lack of magical ambition, as she was regularly told by her mother's poison-tongued familiar, and more than that — she didn't want to feel. Anything. To the strange, seldom seen owner of one of Cambric Creek's oddest businesses, tea is more than just a beverage. They take pride in both their blends and their unorthodox method of teasing out the order each guest needs to sate more than their thirst. Azathé brews more than a fine cup of tea — they