Antoinette kight sarcy book

Previously

…She burst out of the building, the harsh, normal sunlight a welcome, albeit blinding, shock. She found herself on a street that looked blessedly mundane, devoid of sentient plants and holographic agents. She leaned against a lamppost, catching her breath, the golden needle still warm in her hand. She had it. She had the key. But as she looked down at the silver button, a new wave of anxiety washed over her. Her mother’s knitting metaphors were rarely straightforward. What did this button signify? And how, exactly, was she supposed to use a golden knitting needle and a silver button to break a magical curse? The unraveling, it seemed, was far from over.