Page 3 of When the Weaver Met the Gargoyle

“Spark, no!” I shoo my dragonfox away from the edge of my scraps basket.

He scampers away, snorting at me but still grinning in that funny little fashion he always does. I can’t let him play in there. He gets too excited and always catches everything on fire with his sparks.

As the watchtower bell tolls in warning of another storm, I settle Spark on his favorite pile of quilts by the hearth and hope Tully’s last application of protective magic will be enough to preserve my roof. Spark purrs at the crackling fire and curls into a ball. I scratch him between his fox ears and around his tiny dragon horns, then I head to my loom.

The front room of my place serves as my workshop. It’s my favorite place in the world, the spot where I fit exactly right, where I can truly relax, and where I can smile fully without worry. My wooden loom almost touches the rough-hewn beams of the ceiling, the ivory-hued warp threads stretched and ready, like I’m a spider about to spin her web. Beeswax candles in bronze holders on the window ledge and table release a sweet scent. The hearth crackles pleasantly near two wicker chairs stacked with fluffy blankets and pillows, and I imagine someone large sitting there with their feet up and a book in hand. Blinking the thought away, I shake my head at myself. Spark is there, at least.

I lift my new wool just as Tully swings through the door, spheres of purple magic dancing around her curly red hair.

“Have you picked him yet?” she asks, her voice too loud for my peaceful home.

“Picked who?” I load the first skein of blue wool onto the rack, then take up one end and attach it to the spool turner on my smaller workbench.

“Your Harvest Party date.”

My stomach turns. I hadn’t realized it was time yet, but she was right. The party always happens during the harvest moon. Just one week away now.

“As I have told you twice already, I’m not going. I have too much work to do.”

I’m not at all interested in romance, love, dating—any of it. Getting too attached to people only leads to heartbreak and embarrassment. I shudder at the very thought of opening my heart up to anyone ever again. Besides, I’m focused on winning the Rustion job.

Tully just stares, her face telling me nothing about what’s going on in her head. “Oh, you haven’t heard the update,” she says quietly, menacingly.

My hands freeze over the spool. “Tell me.”

She tucks a curl of red hair behind her ear and eyes me from under the rim of her pointy witch’s hat. “Lord Mayor Rustion decided to combine the tapestry contest with the party.”

My pulse stutters. “No.”

“Yes.”

Exhaling in a rush, I drop into the nearest chair. I haven’t attended the Harvest Party in two years because you have to bring a date. The faeries who founded Leafshire Cove set some old magic on the land that now belonged to Lord Rustion. Whoever enters the large area on the night of the harvest moon must have a potential love match on their arm. History claims the magicwas meant to encourage locals to procreate and populate the new village.

“Can’t you be my date?” I ask, giving her my best puppy eyes.

Tully crosses her arms. “You know it won’t pass.”

The ring of mushrooms on the property serves as the entry point to the sacred ground. They can’t be fooled, I guess. Tully would know. She was born here.

She continues. “You might love verbally sparring with me, Laini, but I don’t think you want to stick your tongue in my mouth. I know I don’t want to stick mine in yours.”

I laugh despite the horror of this information about the contest and the party. “Damn it.” Gods, I’m going to be sick. I can’t go on a date.

Tully draws her fingertips along the warp threads of the loom and grins at me through their pale lines. “Listen, it’s not so bad. It’s one night. And if you can get a dance with Lord Rustion or even share a green apple cider with the old shifter, you’ll have a much better chance in the competition.”

“But you know who will be there.”

“Leo. Yes. You have to stop letting him affect you.”

“Oh, all right. Now that you’ve told me, I’ll just stop feeling my feelings.”

She gives me a flat look. “I only mean you can’t let his presence bully you out of showing up for fun things forever.”

Leo and I were very serious for a while, and our break up was… It was bad. The gossip went on for weeks and weeks. I lost weight. Couldn’t sleep. It was the worst time I’ve had in my adult life. But Tully wasn’t wrong here.

I groan. “Fine. Yes, you’re right.”

She clasps her hands under her chin and spins in a circle. “My favorite words.”