“That was supposed to be Skonk’s mission, but he got sidetracked.” Twobble pointed dramatically. “But Frank has intelligence! Our operation once again has legs.”
My dad’s gaze flicked to Twobble’s face. “You’ve got frosting on your chin.”
Twobble wiped his chin with a flourish. “It’s camouflage.”
My dad sighed the sigh of a father who’d accepted magic and goblins in the same season. “I’ve been keeping an eye on Gideon.”
Keegan straightened, just slightly. “YouandSkonk?”
Frank nodded. “Me and Skonk, yes. Although Skonk keeps letting his hunger guide him, so his definition of keeping an eye changes depending on the proximity of baked goods.”
Twobble leaned forward, delighted. “Who’s the Twiblet now?”
Bella snorted. Ardetia blinked like she wasn’t sure what that meant, but decided it was probably insulting.
My dad continued, unfazed. “Gideon’s been wandering the sidewalks, slow and deliberate. He looks like a man trying to decide whether he wants to knock on a door or burn the house down.”
My stomach tightened, but my dad’s tone stayed steady and observational. He wasn’t trying to scare us. He was trying to prepare me.
“He looked… contemplative,” Frank added. “Which I don’t like.”
Stella sniffed. “Contemplative villains are the worst kind. A dramatic villain at least gives you a warning speech.”
Keegan’s gaze sharpened. “Where is he now?”
My dad lifted a hand and pointed toward the village direction without needing to name the exact street. “He went into Luna’s yarn shop.”
I blinked as my stomach tightened “Luna’s?”
My dad nodded. “And that’s where he still is.”
The silence that followed wasn’t empty. It was crowded with thoughts.
Twobble broke it first. “Of course, he’s in the yarn shop. What is he doing, browsing for morally ambiguous scarves?”
Bella’s grin turned sly. “Maybe he’s picking a new personality. You can knit those now, right?”
Nova’s staff tapped once against the stone floor, the sound clean as punctuation. “It means he’s anchoring himself somewhere safe in the village. Somewhere familiar.”
Ardetia’s eyes narrowed. “Or somewhere symbolic.”
Stella’s lips pressed together. “Or somewhere he thinks will tug at Maeve.”
My chest tightened, and I hated how quickly the thought fit.
My dad continued, “Skonk is there now.”
Twobble perked up. “He’s actually spying?”
My dad’s mouth twitched. “In his own way. He’s hiding behind a garbage can with a lemon scone.”
Twobble slapped a hand to his chest, offended on Skonk’s behalf. “Alemonscone? That’s not even tactical. That’s dessert.”
“Skonk said it helps him focus,” my dad replied.
Stella snorted. “Food has never helped a goblin focus. Food helps a goblin forget.”
“That’s what I told him,” my dad agreed. “But he’s still there. And he hasn’t thrown the scone at Gideon yet, so we’re calling it progress.”
