Crown of Arden? The little triumph Claire had pulled from the Spyden turned into dismay. She knew she needed to make a queen, and she’d thought that it would be easy enough. After all, to be a queen, one needed only a crown, and Claire had made plenty of crowns before, out of both construction paper and flowers. But the way Lyric had said the words “Crown of Arden” with such importance—and knowing that Estelle wanted it—Claire began to suspect she couldn’t just make a crown but would need to find the crown.

She wanted to interrupt, to test her theory, to ask any of the thousands of questions that had exploded within her, but Lyric kept talking.

“Not everyone can go to the re-coronation, of course, though a handful of Spinners will be attending so that they can perform for Her Majesty, and yesterday …” For the first time, the girl faltered. “Yesterday, I was cut from the troupe. Which is why I had to see the Spyden, to ask if there was a way I could get another chance, but”—Lyric stared meaningfully at the ball of web now collected in her palms—“that didn’t really go according to plan, either.”

She sighed, and the sound was surprisingly heavy from someone so small. “I know I’m not the best dancer, but I don’t want to be a dancer—I want to be the youngest Historian ever! And the only way for that to happen is if I get a chance to witness this incredible moment! I want to see history being made as the guilds crown Estelle our queen for all time, and then”—Lyric’s voice took on a dreamy quality—“magic will flourish, the unicorns will return, and the wraiths will be vanquished, once and for all!”

Claire’s breath came fast and shallow, but Lyric continued to talk, oblivious to what her words were doing to Claire.

“I’m still trying to decide what I’ll call my historical account,” Lyric rambled on, “but I’ve already chosen my historian’s name! Lyric the Lyrical, Youngest Historian of the Last Queen, Teller of Tales Both Dreadful and Glorious, and Master Witness for the Crown!” She raised an eyebrow in Claire’s direction and said, rather smugly, “It’s good, don’t you think?”

But Claire could hardly get her lungs to suck in oxygen, let alone think.

“Well?” Lyric asked, demanding an answer to her question.

Claire nodded. “Yeah, it’s good. Sorry, this is just …” She trailed off. Just terrible. But she didn’t say the last part aloud.

Lyric frowned. “I really can’t believe this is the first time you’re hearing about all this,” she said. “Grandmaster Bobbin sent word up and down the rivers and sea for all fleets to return to Needle Pointe for preparation.” She tilted her head. “What fleet did you say you belonged to again?”