“It’s only the biggest holiday of the year!” Lyric flung out a hand so wildly she almost took out the honey pot. “It’s a ginormous meteor shower that marks the end of the traveling season and the beginning of winter. We usually start the evening with a special dance and then spend the night bundled up with friends and families on rooftops, eating and drinking, while we watch the stars until they fade. Mama, Kay, and I usually go over to Tina’s house.”

“This year will be different though,” Mistress Weft said, momentarily pausing the wheel to collect more blue yarn from her basket.

“What do you mean?” Lyric asked.

Mistress Weft glanced sharply at her daughter. “Both you and Kay will be spending Starfell at Hilltop Palace, performing for the queen’s re-coronation … won’t you?”

“Oh right, that, yes, of course!” Lyric said quickly. She turned away from her mother’s shrewd gaze and looked at Claire. “The guilds will present their tines to Queen Estelle that evening.” The girl’s eyes practically shone like stars themselves. “Then the crown will be reforged, and Arden will be like it was in the days of yore, when magic was strong!”

A hole seemed to be digging itself in Claire’s stomach. For all Lyric’s talk of a perfect, sparkly past, Claire knew it had not been like that for every guild, especially the Forgers, who’d toiled under horrendous and dangerous conditions for the Gemmers and Spinners.

“And do you think that all the guilds will give her their piece?” Claire asked.

“We are unsure,” Mistress Weft admitted from her corner. “The Spinners have already decided to support her, and we can’t imagine the Gemmers would go against one of their own. But as for the Tiller and Forger guilds …” She paused in her spinning. “The future is never certain.”

Claire bit her lip. So much of life was uncertain—so much of it new and strange, but now, at least, she knew one thing for sure: she needed to collect the tines of Arden—and she needed to get them before Estelle did, if she were to have any chance of crowning Nadia queen. But first …

“So the Spinners—I mean, we,” Claire quickly corrected herself, “have a quarter of the crown. Where do we keep it?”

“Come on, I’ll show you.” Lyric shoved away her breakfast plate and sprang up. “We’re going to be late anyway!” She leaped to the door and picked up a box of woven ribbons waiting beside it.

“Don’t forget your cloaks,” Mistress Weft called. “It’s getting cold.”

“Wait, where are we going?” Claire asked, getting up and clearing her dishes to the great tin sink.

“The Historium, obviously.” Lyric whirled on her Royalist cloak. “It’s where the Love Knot Tine is displayed!”