She appreciated his attempt at humor. “I think you’ve always had a problem in that area.”
This was it. The needle probably did nothing. If it did, Onric would have figured it out by now. Besides, it was more likely that nothing would happen than that something bad would. She looked at the tapestry to give her strength. One of the damaged panels was visible, and she imagined it complete and filled with color. She imagined Stasiya and her stepmother, happy and content. She thought of her father, ever inquisitive and intrigued by anything he had never seen before.
It was just a needle. She picked it up.
Nothing happened.
It felt as rough as it looked. The eye of the needle was large. Most bone needles were carved to be slim, leaving only the smallest possible opening for the thread to go through. But a material as rough as iron could not be manipulated into something so delicate. It would make threading it easier, but likely the sewing part would be more difficult.
Picking up a strand of green thread, she strung it through the needle’s eye with ease. Since she was embroidering, not sewing a seam, she did not knot the thread into a loop but left it a single strand. She didn’t want to test it on the tapestry first, just in case something bad did happen. She did not want to further damage the tapestry.
She fingered the edge of her sleeve, but also decided against that. What if it destroyed her dress? In front of the prince!
She reached up to her head and tugged the kerchief free. The motion loosened her thick braid, which had been looped up around her head, and it fell down across her chest. With a flick of her head, she tossed it back over her shoulder to keep it out of the way.
Gently folding the kerchief in half, she pressed the tip of the needle against the fabric. Before piercing it, she looked up at Onric. His eyes were glued to her. He nodded. She looked back down and forced the needle through the fabric. The loose weave of the linen kerchief separated easily around the dull tip of the needle. She pulled the thread through the fabric but stopped before completely pulling it out.
Nothing happened.
Returning the needle to the fabric, she made another stitch very close to the first one.
Nothing happened.
She continued until she had a row of small, even stitches lining the edge of her kerchief. “I suppose we had nothing to worry about.” She looked back up at Onric. “This is just a regular needle. A clumsy regular needle.” She felt giddy with relief, but a small weight of disappointment settled in her heart.
She tugged on the thread, and since it wasn’t knotted, the whole length slipped free, leaving a small row of holes in her kerchief. She rubbed the fabric to ease the weave back into its original place.
Chapter 17
Onric picked up the needle from across the table and placed it back in its case. “I am a little disappointed, although I suppose I should be relieved that we only flirted with danger.”
“But flirting with danger doesn’t make one a hero.”
“Yes.” He looked at her across the table. “Exactly.” She had seen who he was and what he desired, and in just a few simple words she had encapsulated that. His chest felt warm. He felt... seen. She hadn’t looked at him and asked about his older brother, nor had she looked at him and made assumptions based on his family or status. She had just seen... him. It felt wonderfully refreshing.
“Where did you find it?” She was using her kerchief to tie up her braid once again. He wanted to ask her to stop. She was beautiful every time he saw her, but the sight of her tangled braid with the curls slipping loose was incredibly appealing. Seeing her so casual made her feel more real. It was a good thing the table was still in between them.
“That night in the storm?” he said. “Ian and I had been visiting the monastery, but we also stopped to see the old monk who left his community and still lives on the shore. He had managed to save several items from the library.”
“But how did you know to search there?”
“You haven’t heard the legends of the monastery?”
“You mean the ones about how it was originally founded by the Majis?”
“Yes.”
“But they are not true. The Majis built forts, not monasteries.”
“I don’t know if it’s true or not. But if it is true, then it only makes sense that they would have hidden treasured items there when they had to leave.”
“But this needle isn’t spelled.”
“Then why was it so important that it was saved from the looting?”
Ashlin paused. She did not have an answer for that. “I... I don’t know. There is certainly nothing else special about it. It’s not even a good needle. Maybe the needle case is the important part?”
“I hadn’t thought of that.” Onric reexamined the case in his hand. What would a magical needle case do? Lock itself? Explode? He dipped his head down towards it and gently blew on it.
