“Really, Claire, I’m a Spinner—how do you keep forgetting?” Click-clack. Click-clack. “Now, tell me, how did you get here? And what question are you going to request of the Spyden?”

Request of the Spyden? First there was the cooking and the knitting and now this fancy vocabulary? Claire felt her frown deepen, but still, she answered her sister’s question. “I’m going to ask what happened to the unicorn of Unicorn Rock. And if he can put you back to normal.”

Sophie tilted her head. “But that doesn’t sound like the question you actually want to ask.”

Claire crossed her arms. She was exhausted and anxious and didn’t have any patience left to deal with Sophie’s airs of fake mystery. “Yes it is.”

Click-clack. Click-clack. Sophie’s knitting needles tapped faster, a beautiful, shimmering blanket slowly billowing from beneath them. Claire couldn’t believe how rapidly Sophie had learned her magic skill.

“No,” Sophie said, “it sounds like a question hiding a question. What do you really want to know, Claire Elaina Martinson?”

It was like Sophie’s question was a hook, and Claire’s answer was the slippery secret that had gotten caught. Because without wanting to, without really thinking about it, she blurted, “How do I make sure everything stays the same?” Question after question tumbled out, piling on top of one another so quickly, Claire felt like they might crush her. “What’s it going to be like when we go home? Will it ever be the same again? And not just before Arden but before before, when you weren’t sick at all. When we could just—”

Her voice cracked. She didn’t even know what she was about to say—just what? Just be sisters? Just be kids? Just not be a princess and unicorn of Arden? The number and power of her questions overwhelmed Claire.

It’s all too much.

She buried her face in her hands. And again, she tasted salt at the corner of her mouth as tears trailed down.

“Hey, now,” Sophie said softly. She patted Claire’s shoulder, her long black sleeve brushing against her cheek. “It’s going to be fine. I’ve taken care of it.”

Claire looked up, startled. “What?” she demanded. “How?”

“Nothing, I just meant, tomorrow we’ll find the Spyden. It’ll be an Expedition!”

“Experience,” Claire said, but her voice felt jumbled in her throat. In fact, all her thoughts were becoming soft and tangled, like yarn.

“What was that?” Sophie’s face appeared above hers, and again, Claire thought it was funny how black her eyes looked, when they were typically a vibrant brown. Something was off; something didn’t feel right. It was as though her sister wasn’t actually her sister.

Claire knew she should be alarmed at the thoughts plodding through her mind, but … she was so tired.

“You don’t call them ‘Expeditions,’ ” Claire mumbled. “You call them ‘Experiences.’ ”