“Of course it’s me!” Sophie said. “Who else would you be expecting?”

The answer was practically anyone else, ranging anywhere from an angry Royalist, to a suspicious Spinner, to Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer. When Claire left Woven Root a week ago, Sophie had been curled up and fast asleep in their tent. There was no way she could have traveled here this fast, ahead of Claire, without Claire even knowing.

… Could she?

“B-but—” Claire spluttered. “When did you— What did you— How?”

“I came by cloak,” Sophie said, shooting Claire an older-sisters-always-know look as she came to a stop next to her. “Obviously.”

Claire tried to close her gaping mouth. Sure, she knew Sophie was a Spinner. They had all only recently discovered it: that Sophie could pluck the chords of potential within fabric so that they could snag the wind’s currents and fly. She just didn’t realize how quickly Sophie had mastered her new ability. It had taken Claire weeks to even spark a ruby.

Sophie reached down to pull Claire to her feet, and even though Claire’s legs were wobbly, she remained standing. Her knees seemed to have locked in shock. She still couldn’t believe this. Sophie was supposed to be in Woven Root, where it was safe. And yet here she was, always one step ahead of Claire—and never listening to her.

“I told you to stay in Woven Root!” Claire said, her voice shaking. She couldn’t tell if it was from exhaustion, or anger, or something else entirely. Her emotions seemed to bleed into one another, like splattered paint.

First there was fear: that her sister wasn’t behind the protective secret curtain of Woven Root.

Then annoyance. She should have known better than to think Sophie would ever let her do anything by herself. That Sophie would ever trust Claire enough to take care of something on her own.

Finally—and worst of all—relief. She wouldn’t have to do this all herself. And for some reason, the relief made her even angrier.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Claire stated, twisting the pencil into her hair.

Sophie held out her hands, her expression wounded. “Did I do something wrong? I was just trying to look out for you!”

“But you don’t need to!” Claire yelled, too tired to rein in her fury. All that sneaking, the nights spent pressed under carrots, the slippery climb up the crow’s nest, the lightning, the near-drowning—it had all been for nothing if Sophie was not safe.

“Shh,” Sophie said, her eyes growing wide. “The Spyden might hear you.”

Claire wanted to stamp her feet. “How do you know about that, too?”

“I just …” Sophie sighed. “I sense these things.”

It was as if Sophie’s sigh had blown out Claire’s anger. Because it was gone as suddenly as it had appeared, leaving Claire feeling hollow and alone.