Scorn filled every line of Estelle’s face. “Martin trapped me,” Estelle snarled. “He turned me to stone. For three hundred years, I was helpless on the Sorrowful Plains. Alone.”

“But you were never alone,” Sophie said, her voice thin as she tried to speak around whatever Estelle was doing to them. “The unicorn never left you. He stood by you, watching you all this time. For three hundred years.”

“Because he was too weak to complete the craft without doing so,” Estelle snapped. “Unicorns are useless alive. Unwilling to help. He took Martin away from me, and my little brother left me all alone, like everyone else.”

“No,” Claire said. She suddenly felt Sophie’s hand in hers, and the weight in her limbs began to lighten. “Martin didn’t abandon you. He loved you,” she repeated. “You were turning into a wraith! He turned you into stone to slow down the transformation. To give you time to find an antidote that wouldn’t cost you the rest of yourself. Like you, he couldn’t bear to lose anyone else, especially not his big sister, who used to take him to feed the ducks in the pond.”

The queen and the unicorn were still.

“Martin never gave up on you,” Sophie said in such a knowing voice that Claire couldn’t help but remember she was an older sister talking to an older sister. “He never forgot you. How could he? You’re his sister. He missed you.”

Sophie took a deep breath, as though trying to rein in her emotions. She squeezed Claire’s hand tighter. “He told stories of Arden to his children, encouraged them to seek out the wonderful land of his stories, so that when someone—our aunt Diana, Nadia—at last found the way back, she wouldn’t be scared to venture in. He wanted us to come. He wanted us to wake you and give you another chance!”

The unicorn stayed still, his neck nobly arched, but Claire could feel his approval in the warmth of his dark eyes, ringed by silver.

“You’re lying,” Estelle whispered, but her hand twitched. Claire held her breath. She could see how much Estelle wanted to believe Sophie and Claire. How much she hoped it was true.

At first, Claire thought it was only the expression on Estelle’s face that had changed, but then she realized that it was more than just her expression—it was her face, her skin, her body. She seemed to be shrinking, her skin turning thin and wrinkled as she began to age in front of them. The immortality of a wraith seemed to be draining from her with each passing second as another year was added to her. In just a minute more, she would be dust.

The earth, which had been hugging Claire to itself, loosened its hold. Hope fizzed through her. Had she and Sophie done it? Had they managed to defeat Estelle after all?