“I’m still really confused,” she confessed. “You were so mean to Thorn in Fyrton and during the cart ride. I thought you were mad at him?”

Sophie shook her head. It was still strange to see her hair, dark and loose, tumbling past her shoulders. The only time Claire had ever really seen Sophie with her hair down was when they played mermaids on the beach.

“I wasn’t mad at him, not at all,” Sophie said. Sophie still sounded like Sophie, but she’d become more formal in the past week. “I just didn’t know how to tell him that I wasn’t … that I was becoming a unicorn. And until I knew what that really meant, I didn’t think it would be fair to, you know …” She fluttered her hand, as though that were any explanation, and for the first time, Claire saw a pink blush color her sister’s nose.

“Lead him on?” Sena asked, grinning slyly across the embroidered tablecloth.

“Yes, fine, if you want to call it that.”

Claire smiled. “I feel a little bad. At Estelle’s coronation, for a second, I thought that he actually had switched sides. Again.”

“It was my plan, to get captured,” Sophie admitted. “The crowds were so thick, and the only way I could think of getting to the unicorn in time to talk with him was if Estelle called me to the stage herself.” She wrinkled her nose. “I suspected that the unicorn wasn’t the unicorn. Thorn did something funny to my hair, though, to try to look like yours. But your curls are so beautiful, there was no way he could manage to replicate them in such little time.”

Self-consciously, Claire tugged on a curl and looked down at the peacocks embroidered on the tablecloth. They strutted about, congregating around fallen crumbs, though their thread beaks didn’t need them for nourishment. For a moment, everything felt perfect.

Golden trees from Fyrton’s Vaults had been pulled up, the metal lightly heated to keep everyone warm even on the cold night. Gemglows had been strung, crisscrossing the sky and bathing everyone in diamond light. Meanwhile, Tillers had planted special winter roses that, paired with a bit of Spinner string, plinked melodically during the courses.

This was better than perfect.

It was right.

And she would enjoy it while it lasted.

The celebration continued long into the night, and Claire could not remember ever being so happy. She beamed as she watched her parents relax in Arden. Mom chatted happily with Mistress Weft, and Dad had a deep conversation with a very enthusiastic Aquila. He nodded as he listened carefully, while at the same time he was careful to avoid the pointed heads of her battle-axes as she turned animatedly to address the small crowd gathered around them—Spinners, Tillers, and even a Gemmer journeyman Claire recognized from her time at Stonehaven.