“Needle Pointe can hear anything at any time, so long as there’s a Snitch Stitch about—but don’t worry! They’re only around the perimeter of the city,” Lyric added, correctly interpreting Claire’s look. “It’s just best not to say anything too private.” She winced. “Like our cover stories—oh, Mama is going to murder me!”

The two girls sprinted down the road. As Lyric had predicted, the inspectors at either end of the suspension bridge that allowed pedestrian access into the city did not bother to stop them. In fact, Claire was pretty sure she saw an inspector shake his head sympathetically when Lyric yelped out their names. It seemed the Spinner girl was well known to the inspectors … as was her mother’s temper.

It was still early enough that the streets were relatively empty, and it was easy to keep up the sprint. “If we can just get back to Tina’s,” Lyric was saying as they crossed the first canal, “then maybe—”

“Lyric Calliope Weft.” A voice rang out over the waterways.

Lyric stumbled to a stop. “Here we go,” she whispered. Taking a deep breath, she plastered a smile on her face and twirled around. “Hi, Mama! What are you doing up so early?”

Claire turned just as a woman in a ruffled pink apron marched up behind them. She was a tall woman, with the same thick black hair as her daughter, though hers was twisted into a series of tight knots across her head, while one skinny braid hung down over her left shoulder. The freed braid swung like a pendulum, and it took Claire a second to realize why: Lyric’s mother was practically quaking with fury.

“Where in thread’s end did you disappear to?” Lyric’s mother’s voice was like a teakettle’s hiss before it screamed.

Without thinking, Claire took one step back.

“Don’t!” Mistress Weft said as her daughter opened her mouth to reply. “Not one word from you! Can you imagine the terror I’ve been through? First, finding out you weren’t at the Hares’ house. Then being told by the Watch that they couldn’t go looking for my daughter because a Forger with a golden spyglass attacked the Thread Cutter’s crow’s nest! What do you have to say for yourself?”

Lyric opened her mouth and closed it again, looking uncertain as to whether she was allowed to answer. By now, Claire was aware of a small group of Spinners watching from behind their shutters and a pair of boys laughing from a narrowboat. Poor Lyric. But there was nothing she could do to help—even if she did bristle a bit at the news of a “Forger attack.” Claire hadn’t attacked anyone!

“The truth, Lyric—and I mean it!” her mother snapped.