“Queen Nadia!” Claire said, surprised and delighted. “You’ve been crowned!”

“Not yet,” Nadia said.

Claire’s delight faltered. “But we did it! And everyone’s here! Why haven’t—” she stopped as Nadia held her hand.

“We’ve been waiting for the last tine.” Nadia stared meaningfully at Claire.

“I—oh!” Heat rose in Claire’s cheeks as she remembered how she’d taken the Stone Tine from the Seed Cellar. “It’s in my pocket.”

“And that pocket,” Nadia said with a slight smile, “happens to be a Lock-it Pocket, which as you know—”

“Means only the person who puts the thing in can take it out,” Claire said, quickly slipping her hand into her tunic’s pocket to pull out the Stone Tine.

As one, Nadia, Claire, and Nett stared down at the crown’s point. It was as smooth as night on water, and just as mysterious.

“Yes,” Nadia said quietly, her expert eye taking in the treasured artifact. “That is, indeed, the Gemmers’ tine.”

“Take it!” Claire said, holding it out to Nadia. “Join it with the others! Go be queen!”

But Nadia tucked Claire’s fingers gently back over it. “The other three tines are being reforged at this very moment. It’s been difficult and delicate work to combine the tines, and has taken up the whole day and night, but they should be ready for you now.” She stood up. “If you’re feeling up for it, would you do me the very great honor of bringing it to them now? I need to watch over the more complicated jumbled magic we’re adding to the wall.”

“I’m fine!” Claire said, swinging her legs over the bed. It wasn’t a lie. The room hardly spun at all. She pressed the precious bit of metal to her heart once. Its thin song flowed into her. “Where is it being reforged?”

After Nadia gave her directions, she and Nett—who wanted to help with some preamble training—left Claire so that she could change into fresh clothes.

After peeling off her dirt-streaked Forger shirt, Claire quickly pulled on a thick woolen tunic in a soft red, tugged on some goat-hair boots, slung her Hollow Pack across her shoulder, and tucked her pencil behind her ear. Last, she checked to make sure the Stone Tine was secure in the front pocket of her bag. She was ready. But before she hurried out, a gleam caught her eye. Next to the standing wardrobe was a silver breastplate, and a note:

Light as a petal but strong as steel, please wear this with our gratitude. It will never rust but do make sure to run a polishing rag over it now and again.

—Mathieu and Sylvia