Sophie, as far as Claire knew, was the last unicorn in Arden. The unicorn Claire had freed from the rock seemed to have vanished into thin air. Which meant that all of Queen Estelle’s focus would now be on hunting Sophie so that she could drain the last of the unicorns’ magic for herself and regain the throne …

Unless Claire could find a way to keep Sophie human—and safe.

Which meant she had to be brave—had to seek out a Spyden and ask it the right questions.

“Helupf?” Claire coughed. Her mouth, which had only minutes before practically swallowed the entire sea, was now as dry as chalk. Dragging herself to her knees, her tunic squelching uncomfortably, she felt for the smallest outside pocket in her Hollow Pack and pulled out her pencil. It was slightly damp, but luckily it hadn’t snapped in two. Pencils were hard to find in Arden, which was why Claire had held onto it, even though it came with memories of Terra.

Scholar Terra had been the Martinson sisters’ first defender at Starscrape Citadel and their biggest advocate. She’d taught Claire how to coax the magic from stone on purpose, had believed Claire’s wild story of calling a unicorn from stone, and gifted her with Charlotte Sagebrush’s famous pencil. Around Terra and her mass of curly black hair, glittering rings, and magical spectacles that seemed to always cut through to truth, Claire had felt that maybe she’d found a place in Arden where she belonged. Terra was a friend—until Claire learned that her name wasn’t Terra at all but Estelle. Queen Estelle. And the only reason she’d helped Claire was because she needed a Gemmer princess of Arden to call the last unicorn to her.

In Arden, one always had to be ready, and so Claire kept the pencil in her hand as she called out again, “Hello?”

Her voice was barely a scratch, but there was a response this time: the sound of many footsteps behind her.

Claire twisted around and tried to scramble to her feet, but her legs felt about as sturdy as sea-foam. And so she stayed where she was, on her bum, her Hollow Pack now too far away to nab anything useful from it. And though there were rocks all around, she was so tired. So, so, so tired.

The footsteps stopped. And then …

“You look like a pretzel.”

No. Water must still be in her ears, because Claire was definitely, one hundred percent hearing things. Because that voice—Claire knew it as well as her own.

She snapped around to see the figure of a girl emerging from behind a few boulders lying on the beach. And though the girl wore a long black gown edged in lace and a funny tall cone hat with a gossamer veil that quivered as she jogged over, Claire recognized the wide, wild grin beneath it.

“Sophie?”