“Mama got it for my birthday, since I’m always getting lost. Though I have to admit, I’ve been struggling in my String Theory Class. Heads up!”

The ball of string whistled past Claire’s head to land with a soft thump somewhere in the darkness. Lyric twisted the string on her finger. A second later, a golden glimmer began to shoot along the string, lighting up the darkness. It led to the ball of yarn, which was now bouncing up a nearly invisible path cut into the cliffs: a safe way over the Needles and down to the city and its bay on the other side.

“You see?” Lyric said brightly. “It’ll be as easy as a cross-stitch to get back. And don’t worry. You can stay with my family until your memories grow back. I bet your family is in the city now. It might take a day or two to locate them—it’s been so crowded the last few days with everyone gathering for Starfell—but we’ll find where you belong!”

But that was exactly the problem. Claire did not want to be found. Even the thought of Estelle finding her sent a tremor through her bones. The queen would probably try to use Claire as bait to lure out Sophie, and then—

“Hey, you’re shivering,” Lyric said. “Take this.”

Lyric pressed something soft and thick into her hands, and Claire looked down to see she was holding a Royalist cloak. It took everything within her not to toss it into the water and let the tides drag it down to the coral forest hidden far below.

“That’s yours, isn’t it?” Lyric asked. “I grabbed it from the Spyden’s basket before I ran out.”

The coldness edged away from Claire as a realization suddenly struck her: Lyric was so free with her because even though she didn’t think Claire—or Elaina, as was the case—remembered anything, she assumed that Claire was a fellow Royalist.

Lyric began to follow the glowing string. “We should get going. It’ll take us all night to get back.”

Only a queen can defeat a queen, the Spyden had said. And if anyone knew how to make a queen, it would be this mysterious, secretive society that had spent hundreds of years researching the royal family. There might be Queen Estelle, Mira Fray, and Royalists in the city, but there could also be answers.

“Are you coming?” Lyric called back.

Claire had to defeat the queen. To keep Arden—and Sophie—safe.

She whirled the cloak over her shoulders, and this time when it touched her skin, she didn’t shudder. As soon as she saved Arden, she could start saving Sophie, and then they could go home, where the biggest worry they had was who would get to choose the next song in the car.