“Dogwood’s bark,” Nett gasped as Sena unwrapped the rags to reveal the ebony point of the Love Knot Tine. “How?”

Francis opened his mouth to speak, but a sputtering cough came out instead. Thorn ran inside to grab a soothing tincture from the bedside table, as well as a quilt. Together, the children tucked it around the old man.

“I think I know how,” Claire said, at last taking the Love Knot Tine from Sena’s hands. The same bursts of song echoed against her skin. Thinking of what Lyric had told her, Claire slowly pieced it together. “Some Royalists went to Needle Pointe a couple of weeks ago to check on the Love Knot Tine and build extra protections around it. Francis—you were one of the Royalists who went, right?”

He nodded, but Claire needed to be certain. “You were the Tiller who helped craft the jumbled Diamond Tree Vault, the one that could only be opened by the queen’s hand? But you switched out the Love Knot Tine with the fake to delay Estelle in becoming even more powerful.”

Francis nodded. His lips moved, and Claire leaned forward to make out the barely formed words. “I knew I had to stop what I had done,” Francis said. “I knew I had to help.”

At his words, Claire felt the last of her anger recede. But she didn’t know what to say. What words would be enough. So instead, she reached for his hand and squeezed, trying to convey all her emotion in that one little gesture. He squeezed back. Francis understood.

“I can fix this,” Sophie said suddenly, loudly. “I can fix you!” She looked down at her hands. “I’m not sure how exactly, but I’ve healed Claire’s ankle.” She stopped as Francis shook his head.

“Sophia,” he said, quiet as the moon. “Some things are beyond even unicorns.”

Claire turned away from the pained expression on Sophie’s face. And as she did, a flash momentarily illuminated the garden. A storm was rolling in. But then—

“Children,” Francis whispered, “the sky!”

Claire looked up, expecting to see clouds, but instead she saw a clear canvas of dark, broken by a single burst of light. Then another. And another. And then a night that had only an hour ago been filled with screams now sang with starlight.

“Spectacular,” Sophie breathed, seemingly unaware that the brightness of these falling stars matched the newly bright silver ring in her eyes, and Claire wondered for a moment how the queen’s illusion could have ever fooled her. Unicorns weren’t just horns and silky manes; they were creatures made of the same fire that burned in stars.