“You can come home after all, Sophie!” Claire practically squealed, sounding more like Lyric than her usual self. Quickly she began to think of all the ways they could conceal Sophie’s new—and there was no other word for it—sparkle.

“Maybe Mom will let you get contacts, to explain your eyes, and you can grow your bangs out a little more to make sure the star is covered. Though,” she said with a grin, “you can start wearing a unicorn headband to school and …” She trailed off.

Sophie wasn’t jumping in to agree or make a joke or laugh or say of course.

Because there was no of course.

And in the moment before Sophie took a breath and opened her mouth, Claire held up her hand.

“Please,” she said, sadly. She felt a tear leak out and she hastily wiped it away. “Don’t say it—not yet.”

Sophie reached out and squeezed Claire’s hand. Her touch held the echo of the great, magical song that bubbled throughout Arden, and though Claire’s heart still felt heavy, it didn’t feel as though it would crush her anymore.

Taking a cool, calming breath, Claire managed to sound somewhat normal as she asked, “So, are you going to tell me where you’ve been?”

“Actually,” Sophie said with a grin, “I can show you.”

“Show me?” Claire asked, surprised. “Show me what?” But at that moment, she heard a slight rustling, and she turned to see that since she’d left the tent that afternoon, another silk corridor had been added, leading to a newly woven apartment.

“Well,” Sophie said, moving toward the new cloth door, “I had a sense, when I was on the mountaintop, that perhaps you, me, and Nadia weren’t the only, uh, travelers in Arden. And so I followed my sense, and I listened, catching wind of a tale of two travelers who appeared the morning of Starfell, and carried with them the strangest rucksacks ever to be seen in Arden. Unfortunately, the travelers ran into some trouble—chased by Royalists, took a few wrong turns, ended up in an inescapable labyrinth, etcetera—but before they did get stuck, these travelers were inquiring about a pair of missing children. Missing daughters, actually.”

With a small flourish, Sophie pulled back the curtain, to reveal—

A man, with round glasses that looked not Arden-made, and a woman, whose curly hair had been pulled into a topknot on her head.

“Dad!” Claire yelled. “Mom!” And then she was flying across the room, throwing herself into her parents’ arms.

“Claire! Claire! ” They wrapped her up tight, and Sophie too, a tangle of happy tears and laughter and questions and love.

The Martinson family had been reunited, once more.

Chapter Thirty

CHAPTER

30