“My dearest girl. Abby told me you’d be coming. You’ve finished your work already?” Sir Albert gaped at the large parcel in Emmy's arms as he ushered her into the palace’s servant entrance.

Emmy, despite never meeting any of the royal family, was well-known at the palace. If her unique position as Falworth’s Yarn Sprinstress wasn’t enough, Albert’s incessant praise of her more than made up for it.

As they walked through the quarters, Emmy exchanged greetings with those she passed by. She spent the majority of her time holed up in her workshop, making thread and creating clothes, or at her parent’s shop. Therefore, she was determined to be friendly to everyone she saw when she was out on the town, or in the palace.

Albert jabbered on about the latest couples among the nobility as Emmy followed him. Albert might as well have been the royal family’s mascot. He was bald but sported a fashionable—and immaculately styled—mustache and was known for his excellent organization and skill at all card games. In addition, he was everyone’s trusted confidant and was just as much of a well-intended schemer as his girlfriend, Miss Abigail.

Despite being Prince Yuki’s aid, the agile 70-year-old man also managed all visitors and was the holder of the castle keys. To Emaline, Albert might as well have been her grandpa, and he treated her as such. Without any grandparents of her own, Emmy enjoyed Albert and Abigail’s constant presence in her life.

“I was a little overly excited to work on this one,” Emmy interjected when Albert paused to draw breath. She beamed from ear to ear as she gazed at her parcel, now in Albert’s possession. “I hope he likes it.”

Emmy was so wrapped up in her daydreaming that she failed to recognize the change in scenery. They were not, in fact, going into the servant’s parlor as she was accustomed to. In fact, it appeared that they were exiting the servant’s area altogether!

“My dear, I have a bit of a surprise for you today,” Albert called over his shoulder as he hastened down the corridor toward the heart of the palace. “Come on!”

“I don’t think I’m supposed to be in this area,” Emmy whispered, eyes surveying the grandeur around her as they entered the Grand Hall. From the marble-lined halls to the ornate golden sconces, everything told her she didn’t belong.

What is Albert thinking?

“You’re right; let’s go!” Albert abruptly turned and continued to tromp down the hallway without a single glance at Emmy.

Emmy followed, slack jawed, as Albert wove them through the palace. Each room increased in opulence, the furnishings and portraits seemingly growing larger and larger. Emmy shuffled to catch up to Albert who walked at far too brisque a pace for her short stature. Without realizing it, Emmy held her breath, like a culprit afraid of discovery or a mouse scampering through the kitchen.

“We’ve arrived!”

“Now, just a minute, Albert,” Emmy started.

“Oh, don’t mind me, I’m just having my fill of fun.” Albert surveyed the hall before leaning close and saying in a low voice, “You know what a taskmaster Prince Yuki is.”

Emaline’s mouth gaped, horrified he’d have the gall to say such a thing in the palace.

“I jest yet again!” Albert chortled, pleased as punch. “The prince requested that you deliver your goods personally.”

“Tell him I'll return when I'm not suffering from whiplash,” Emmy retorted, chopping Albert’s behavior up to an absurd attempt at humor.

“Too late!” Albert whispered, throwing open the door to the Crown Prince’s study. “Your Highness, I’ve brought the Yarn Spinstress as requested.”

Emmy inhaled and quickly scanned the room, taking in the towering rounded windows, the mahogany desk, and the damask-clad chairs beside the fireplace. Then her eyes landed on a mop of silvery-blond hair atop the desk. Albert nodded at her as a dreadful realization weighed her body down like lead.

Was that mop… the crown prince? The crown prince… is a mop head?! A hundred varying thoughts swirled around her head, though she only had a moment to regain her composure.

The mop is moving!

Indeed, the mop of hair rotated upwards to reveal a pair of sapphire blue eyes as radiant as the cut gem itself. They blinked twice before the young prince sprung up, dapper from head to toe.

“Caught me hard at work, I’m afraid,” he said with a breezy laugh, the traces of sleep falling away with each step of his swift gait. Each strand of his unkempt hair fell into place, framing his face in shining silver.

Beautiful biscuits, this is how this man looks after waking up?

She wasn’t sure if she was perturbed or impressed. Though, she had to admit that Abigail was correct about his eyes.

“Crown Prince Yuki Clarion, may I introduce you to Miss Emaline Finchly, our esteemed Yarn Spinstress.”

Emmy offered a frazzled bow of sorts, throwing Albert a pointed look with eyes as sharp as daggers. It was only a handful of days ago that she joshed about the notion of seeing the prince in the flesh. This sudden turn of events was too much for her to fathom, causing her to jump from shock to excitement—all underpinned by a sense of dread.

“Ah, the notorious Yarn Spinstress!” Prince Yuki clasped her hand between his own, radiating golden-retriever enthusiasm. “I’m so glad to meet you, Miss Finchly. Or may I call you Miss Emaline?” he asked brazenly, his puppy-dog persona swiftly turning into that of a fox.

“Miss Finchly will do for now, Your Highness,” she replied, hiding her fascination with how he could appear both innocent and cheeky at the same time.

“Of course, of course!” Yuki spied Albert, who was choking back a chuckle. “Thank you, Albert. That’s all for now.”

Albert passed the parcel back to Emmy before offering a suave bow and disappearing into the corridor. She was certain he would run off to Abigail at his earliest opportunity to tell her the news. Emmy inwardly grimaced, imagining Abigail barraging her with questions and pressing her for the details of their visit. She’d be sure to scold Albert the next time she saw him.

“Thank you for visiting me. I thought we could perhaps conduct business face-to-face. Your sewing skills are unmatched, not to mention your ability to imbue the clothes with unique traits. And frankly, I think you’re much better than the royal tailor we have here, but you mustn't tell.” Yuki smiled and straightened. “So I hope you’ll be amenable to meeting with me from now on.”

Despite his friendly behavior, Emmy spied a cool detachment in his eyes that both worried and intrigued her. The detachment she spied in his eyes morphed into concern as she failed to respond.

“If it would tax you, feel free to say so. I’m in no position to make any demands of you, only requests.” His small, earnest smile entreated her to accept.

“I see you must be wearing the charm-enhancing garment I made for you,” she said with a spark of her usual spirited attitude. She gently hugged the parcel as she considered his request.

Her shock at finding herself with Prince Yuki waned as her thoughts shifted to her favorite subject, sewing! Wasn’t this the opportune moment to get all her queries answered from the lips of the wearer himself? Instead of fretting over each color, cut, and style choice for his attire, she would simply ask him! Emmy felt lighter by the minute. Though she was grateful for Prince Yuki’s sudden patronage, she nearly gave herself an ulcer over his last two commissions.

“Do you mind?” Yuki pointed at the package in her arms.

Snatching the parcel from her outstretched arm, he gleefully opened it. Emmy bit the inside of her lip, anxious for his evaluation.

The black coattail unfolded to reveal its vibrant blue-green peacock inner lining. The cuffs, too, boasted peacock silk with oversized gold filigree buttons. The coat shone with a gleam only obtainable from the finest gems from Falworth’s renowned Astonsia mine. Turning gems into dye was a skill uniquely known to Yarn Spinstresses.

“Magnificent,” Yuki said with a glow of awe about him. It was a hearty stamp of approval. Emmy’s heart skipped a beat—whether it was due to the complement or mere relief, she couldn’t say.

Her pride swelled as he slipped it on over his shirt and vest. He was, without a doubt, the perfect model for her clothes. A seamstress’ dream!

“I’m most honored that you’d meet with me. I agree to your proposal.” Emmy dropped her tentative countenance and allowed her true thoughts to surface. “Besides, I’m bursting with thoughts for your wardrobe.”

“Excellent. Now, I’d like to know you a bit more. Starting with how you like your tea.” Yuki gestured to the table by the fire, where a pot of tea was waiting for them. “I took the liberty of asking Albert to prepare your preferred blend.”

Tea!

That was just what she needed to calm her racing nerves. Sitting by the fire, she felt her apprehension thaw as a creative switch lit within her. Before she knew it, she was scribbling designs and making herself at home in the prince’s study.

An hour or so later, Albert stopped by to escort Emmy back home. As she left, Emmy squinted her eyes at Yuki with an inquisitive gaze, who, in return, smiled and squinted back at her. She sent him one more sideways smile and bounded out of the door, full from good tea and conversation. Yuki rubbed his face with a snort.

Is she trying to figure me out?

He retrieved a folded piece of paper from his vest, revealing a sketch of Emmy’s face. The puppy-dog prince cocked his head as he gazed at the sketch.

“But what to do…”