“According to Dakath, they’re crossbow bolts,” I explained. “I filed a slot near the ends to make hooks, and then I sanded them smooth so the yarn doesn’t catch. This one’s my favorite. I made fifteen, so there are enough for lots of people to try.”
“So there’s no word from Clovermere?” Lyriel asked, lips twitching.
“How did you guess?”
She chuckled. “I too throw myself into craft when I am worried about something.”
“I’m not that worried. It’s just… what if he hasn’t come back yet because he’s found a way to send me home? Just when I’m starting to find my place—”
“Hey.” Lyriel’s hand was warm on my shoulder as she interrupted me. “You’re spiraling.”
“I’m not spiraling. I’m just... okay, maybe spiraling a little bit.” I paced across the room, frowning at Dakath. “Don’t give me that look!”
“There was no look,” Dakath said, picking up a skein of yarn and turning it over in his hands.
“He’s coming back, Pip,” Lyriel said, giving me a tight hug.
“I know. I just miss him.”
“I understand.” She smiled, a little wistful. “When Grukk travels to the northern villages to trade for wool, I count the days until he returns. But I find my solace here, in this shop. And you can, too.”
The workshop door opened again, and Grukk stepped in, interrupting us. Lyriel winked at me, grabbed one of the crochet hooks and walked over to show it to him. The troll was massive; over seven feet tall with shoulders like boulders and hands that could have palmed my entire head, but he moved with the care of someone who’d spent centuries working with delicate materials.
“Good morning, Grukk!” I waved the hook at him. “Are you ready for your crochet lesson?”
He grunted and sat at one of the stools I’d placed around Marta’s cutting table, and Lyriel helped me lay out crochet needles and skeins of yarn for everyone. Dakath took a seat next to Grukk, still pretending not to be interested.
Marta arrived as Grukk was getting settled, accompanied by two fae I’d only seen in passing in the dye room. They were holding hands, their fingers stained deep blue from the indigo they’d been processing.
The taller one had silver hair pulled back in a braid, and the shorter one wore her dark hair loose around her shoulders. Theyboth looked at me with the same expression of polite curiosity that I was getting used to seeing.
“Marta, you brought friends!” I beamed. “Perfect! Thank you!”
Marta nodded. “I told them it would be interesting. Don’t make me a liar, human. This is Erdryll, and her wife, Rydaen.”
“So lovely to meet you both!” I stood up, grabbing the yarn bag from under my desk. “Let’s all sit at the cutting table. More space for everyone.”
When the next person entered, I nearly dropped my yarn. Lord Frostvael Shimmerlight, the Queen’s personal secretary, the most elegant, intimidating, casually gorgeous person I’d ever seen in real life, stepped into the workshop with the grace of someone walking a runway. He was dressed in his usual silver and blue, his white-blonde hair gleaming in the morning light, and he looked at the five of us with the slightly pained expression of a man who’d rather be anywhere else.
“You came!” Lyriel exclaimed, rushing over to take his arm. “I wasn’t sure you would.”
“I said I would consider it,” Frost said, his voice cool. “And then you sent three notes.”
“I was being thorough.” She grinned at him. “And you know you need a hobby that doesn’t involve paperwork.”
“I have hobbies.”
Lyriel smirked. “Do you, though?”
Frost glanced at me, and something in his ice-blue eyes softened, just a fraction. “Apparently I’m learning something called crochet.”
Lyriel passed me, pausing to whisper. “I thought maybe he’d quit telling the Queen that you were some sort of villain if he got to know you.”
“I can hear you, Lyriel,” Frost said. “And I’m still not convinced that he’s not up to something.”
“Right, well. I suppose you can be suspicious while learning to crochet?” I gestured to the cutting table. “Why don’t you sit by me, since you’re the least experienced with fabric arts.”
“There is a palace guard over there.” He pointed at Dakath. “How am I the least experienced?”
