“We’ll find it,” Sena said firmly. “You relax.” Rolling up the sleeves of their Forger disguises, she and Nett got to work, while Thorn, Sophie, and Claire guided Francis to a grassy spot in his vegetable patch. Once settled, the old man managed a ragged “Thank you.”

“I’m the one who should be thanking you,” Thorn said, sitting down next to him. A leaf still clung to his hair. “You—you saved my life.”

Francis managed a small smile. “Your grand would have murdered me if I had let anything happen to you.” He grimaced, and the wrinkles of his face deepened. “Estelle is doing the opposite of what your grand, me, the Royalists dreamed of. The Royalists were a society dedicated to the eradication of wraiths. We thought that by waking the last queen of Arden, we would rid ourselves of the shadow scourge. Instead, they only seek to do her bidding.”

He broke into a fit of coughs, the price for all his words. For a little bit, they were all silent as they watched Sena and Nett pry deeper into the Concealing Ivy.

“How does Estelle do it?” Sophie asked suddenly, turning to Francis. “How does she control the wraiths?”

Francis was slow to answer, his breath shallower with every exhale, but at last he managed a few whispered words. “The queen promised to reunite the wraiths with the sun.”

“Diamonds above!” Sophie’s mouth dropped open and Thorn looked as sick as Claire felt. If the wraiths could withstand sunlight, then all of Arden was in danger. Everyone would soon look like that poor wraith-burned boy she’d seen in Fyrton. “How is she going to do that?” Sophie demanded.

“Not sure,” Francis said. He was so quiet, Claire could hardly hear him above the rustling ivy leaves. “I think it has something to do with her want of a unicorn’s heart.”

“But why?” The question flew from Claire before she could stop it. “I don’t get it. She’s so terrible—what she wants is awful for everyone! Why do the Royalists still follow her?” Claire asked, and let her tone carry her other accusation. Why did you?

“Some because of fear,” Francis said. “Others because of power. Once you’ve had a sip, it’s hard to never thirst for it.”

There was a sudden commotion at the cottage wall as Sena let out a small yelp. “Francis! Is it—?!”

Whatever Sena had found in the Concealing Ivy had left her speechless. A smile appeared on Francis’s face as Sena slowly began to withdraw her arm from the ivy. At first, Claire thought that Sena was so happy that she was singing, but then she realized the girl’s lips were closed, and the song was coming from the ivy. A familiar song, one she’d heard before in a pencil’s sketched memory. A moment later, a bundle wrapped in rags broke loose from the leaves.