“No, wait!” Claire said, her voice lost among the scraping of the chairs as the tines seemed to blow away as easily as dry leaves. Tears pricked her eyes. “Please! You can debate this matter until the moon falls out of the sky, but it doesn’t change what is true. Believe us or not, ignore us or not, it doesn’t change the Spyden’s words. Only a queen can defeat a queen. Without a queen of our own, we will lose, because Estelle is from the legends. She does control the wraiths. And she will attack again.”

The grandmasters paused, and Sophie stepped forward. “Will you give yourselves a chance to save your home?” she demanded. “You’ve already lost magic! You’ve already lost unicorns. Do you want to lose Arden forever?”

Claire knew they had heard her sister. She was right there! But it was as though Sophie was painted with Invis-Ability and the Forgers were wearing Lyric’s earmuff braids. The guilds continued to march out of the cellar and Claire—Claire had failed to convince them. She stared at the empty spot next to the snowdrop cookies where three of the tines had gleamed only moments ago.

“It’s all right, girls,” Nadia whispered. “You tried. And who knows? Perhaps the Spyden’s words have another way of coming true.”

But Claire wasn’t listening. She kept staring at the plate of flower-shaped cookies as a memory surfaced. A memory of white blossoms growing among the autumn leaves, right below strands of silver caught in a higher bush.

“Grandmasters!” Claire called out one final time. Her heart pounded furiously in her chest. “What if we showed you the last unicorn—the one from Unicorn Rock, not a Spyden silk illusion—would you believe us then? Would you crown Nadia?”

Grandmaster Bolt and General Scorcha exchanged a Look. “If you can show us a real, true unicorn—proof of your story,” the general said, “then, yes. The Forgers will pledge our tine to Nadia.”

“The Spinners, too,” the director added thoughtfully, and the Tillers joined in a chorus of quiet agreement.

“By daybreak, then,” General Scorcha said with a sharp nod. “If you can bring and show us the real unicorn by daybreak, we’ll crown Nadia. Otherwise, we leave for our war, got it?”

“But dawn’s only an hour away!” Sophie protested.

“Then, you best get moving,” General Scorcha said and marched toward the dirt stairs and out of the cellar.

As soon as the grandmasters had cleared out of the cellar, Sophie whirled on Claire.

“What are you thinking?” she asked, worry scrunching up her face. “Do you actually know where the unicorn is?”