Page 38 of Shrine of Fire

“We need to prepare.” Aki slid out of bed. “I’ll be getting our weapons together.”

I sighed. “I suppose there’s still a lot left to do.”

“You rest,” Hashir told me, kissing my cheek before getting out of bed.

“I’m sorry about Baylin,” Stefan said. “I don’t know how else to make him stay behind without looking suspicious.”

“Let him come,” Hashir said. “Better to keep him close where we can track his plotting.”

“Hashir is right,” I said, sitting up. Dizziness washed over me. Apparently going into the spirit world took a lot out of a person.

“You need to rest.” Kalahar looked at me. “Hella Mora was not gentle on your spirit when she dragged you into her domain.”

Hashir handed me my cloth bag filled with yarn. “Finish that scarf. I’ll let you know if we need anything.”

“You’re a weaver?” Kalahar looked at the bag with interest.

“Crochet.” I held up a hook. “It keeps my hands busy.”

“Spinning is noble work.”

“It is,” Stefan agreed. “I’m going to circulate through the palace and help with last minute preparations.”

We spent the rest of the day preparing. Or rather, the others prepared. I crocheted.

Grief and guilt rioted inside me, and the only way to calm myself without casting magic was to focus on my work. I was making a scarf.

Scarves gave me easy satisfaction, a project started and finished in less time than a blanket.

For a few hours, it took my mind off…everything. The state of the world. The state of my heart. Decisions needing to be made for the future, as well as silly decisions about what to eat.

I focused on twisting the yarn over the hook, putting it into the loop, pulling through, and repeating, until the pattern of stitches stretched out before me.

Aki entered the room some time later. Judging by the sunlight and the way the birds chirped, hours had passed, even though it didn’t feel like it was that long.

He paused, looking at the scarf. I’d added some inches to my project, the colors shifting from beige to pale blue. It was for Hashir, but I hadn’t told him that yet. I always waited until a project was done to tell them who it was for, an old superstition I’d picked up from my grandmother.

“That’s coming along nicely.” For once he looked softer, as he gazed down at my work.

“Thank you.” I smiled. I’d have to make him something. Since the Order of the Silver Lion was in the deep mountains, and it grew bitter cold, I would be able to use heavier wool for Aki’s project.

“I wanted to talk to you.” Aki brought me a plate of fruit and nuts. “You skipped lunch, didn’t you?”

I shrugged, not bothering to incriminate myself by answering. “I was focused.”

Aki shifted his weight and walked around the side of the lounge. “I’ve made sure there are adequate weapons stowed in case we are attacked.”

“Isn’t part of the Royal Navy going to be coming with us?”

“We cannot be too careful,” Aki said. “Especially considering our true mission.”

“True.”

Aki prowled around the room like a caged tiger. I looked down at my scarf and kept my focus there. When it was hard for me to talk, or hard for someone else to talk to me, having something in my hands helped me smooth things over, or have the patience for the conversation to start at its own pace. It was easier to confess things when I didn’t have to look the person directly in the eye the entire time.

“I don’t like this Baylin person.” Aki paused to admire a watercolor before walking over to a potted plant.

“Neither does Stefan.” I pulled some more yarn out of the skein in my bag. I was getting low on the beige color. Oh, darn, time to go buy more yarn. “He’s a necessary evil.”

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