Tentatively, Claire walked over and untied the gauzy white curtain that covered a small square window. Peering out, all she could see was the darkness of the night sky and the even more velvety darkness that was the sea. So close to the water, it almost sounded like the sea itself was breathing as it inhaled and exhaled its way onto the shore.

Understanding broke with sudden clarity. She wasn’t hearing someone crying at all—it was just the sound of the waves sighing against the rocks.

There was a flutter out of the corner of her eye. The curtain swayed, even though there was no hint of a breeze. Odd.

Claire trailed the long drop of gauze to the top of the window, where the fabric was heavily draped to resemble linked crescent moons. It was a grand style, one that would have been a better fit at the opera house Mom had once taken her to rather than this bare little cottage.

“Soup’s ready!” Sophie called. Tucking the pencil back into her braid, Claire left the strange bedroom just in time to see Sophie ladling broth into a clay bowl with unexpected ease. Though perhaps it shouldn’t have been unexpected, as Sophie had, after all, spent weeks at Stonehaven working in the Citadel’s kitchens while Claire had been taking magic lessons.

“Sophie, are you sure you haven’t seen anyone else around? Or heard anything?” Maybe she was being paranoid; maybe it was just the whisper of the sea, but … “I swear I heard someone calling for help a minute ago.”

Sophie laughed, a distant, forced laugh that sounded more like a noise a tired Mom would make at the end of a day teaching her college courses. Not like a real Sophie laugh, wild and free. “Oh, Claire,” was all she said.

Sitting down at the table, Claire kept her eyes on her sister, looking for a sign that Sophie was becoming a unicorn. But as far as Claire could tell, there wasn’t any change at all. In fact, the opposite seemed to have happened.

She stared at Sophie’s hair, currently out of its signature ponytail in order to fit beneath the cone hat. There was no streak of white in it like the last time Claire had seen Sophie. Perhaps it had grown out …?

As she watched, Sophie sprinkled something into the small bowl. There was still that strange smell that lingered in the air, as if something was rotten. Fish, probably, as they were so close to the sea. She hoped it wasn’t Sophie’s soup.

Smiling proudly, Sophie walked over and set the bowl in front of Claire. Claire fought to keep her features neutral. The bowlful in front of her looked more like damp green yarn than anything that could be called food.

“Seaweed goulash,” Sophie said. “Eat up. You need to be well fed when we go to the Spyden’s Lair tomorrow.”