But Scythe hadn’t left them without some help. “If you encounter a Royalist, you can easily claim you’re on a secret mission for Estelle,” Scythe had said to Thorn, who would be riding up front while the others hid in the cart. “But if a Forger stops you, just flash this Fool’s Gold coin.” He’d explained that when it was in Thorn’s pocket, the coin would be as smooth as a windless lake, but as soon as he showed it to a Forger, it would immediately etch the crest of the grandmaster the viewer happened to respect the most and lead them to believe Thorn was traveling with that particular grandmaster’s permission.

“Fool’s Gold helps ensure my business runs smoothly,” Scythe had said after he’d pressed it into Thorn’s palm. To which Sena had muttered, “And keeps treasures flowing into your shop.” Thankfully, however, Scythe didn’t seem to have heard her dry quip, and Claire had quickly swallowed back her smile. She’d missed Nett and Sena, her first friends in Arden, and the little copper chimera quickly found a large place in her heart.

“How did you do it?” Claire asked now as the cart’s wheels trundled over grit and dirt. She stuck out a finger and gently petted the copper feathers. Gryphin made a sound midway between a chirp and a purr. Claire grinned.

“It was all Sena,” Nett said, stretching out his own finger to scratch the base of his lion’s tail. “She has a real talent for chimera.”

“I’m all right, I guess,” Sena said, looking uncharacteristically uncomfortable.

“All right?” Nett said, shaking his head. “You’re way better than all right!” He turned to look at Claire, his brown eyes serious. “The Forgers in Woven Root say she’s got a knack for metalwork they’ve never seen before.”

“It’s just because of my parents’ journals,” Sena explained, though she looked pleased and a little surprised at Nett’s praise. “They’re not, like, diaries of their innermost thoughts or anything. Just notes they took on their research, a few guesses.” She shrugged. “Sometimes they have helpful shortcuts or a way of explaining things that just, I don’t know, chime. Though,” she said, her expression darkening, “if I can’t find my parents, who cares if I discovered the fourth property of metal?”

“Don’t worry,” Nett said quickly, and Claire had the sense that they’d had this conversation a thousand times. “When we find the unicorn, he’ll help us figure out what happened to your parents.”

“Hmph,” Sena said, but she reached for her Hollow Pack—identical to Claire’s, only black leather instead of powder blue—and pulled out a dog-eared book with Vol. MCMLXXXIX stamped on it with rose-gold foil: one of the Steeles’ many journals.