Lyric was already out the door as Claire called after her, “But what are we late for?” She’d have to keep up to find out.

Chapter Eight

CHAPTER

8

The sun had fully risen, along with the rest of the city. Voices called out greetings from the narrowboats as Lyric hurried Claire alongside the canals and over bridges. Claire had read about cities in her own world where streets were made of water, but she hadn’t been able to picture it until now. She marveled as a boat floated right up to the door of a townhouse for a boy and his little sister to clamber into as easily as Claire and Sophie did into their parents’ car.

If she’d had all the time in the world, Claire would have loved to spend a day on a bridge and dedicate an entire afternoon to capturing the shifting colors of the river that linked the city together. And she could have spent at least a week trying to draw the Spinners, who were of all different shapes and sizes—literally. Some of the women bustled around in square-shaped skirts that were as wide as park benches, while the men wore thick overcoats with enormously puffy sleeves.

And the hair! Wherever Claire looked, there was a different style. Some pulled their hair into elaborate knots on top of their heads, while others let it flow in a waterfall of braids and threads. And the few men who happened to be bald all had the thickest, longest beards Claire had ever seen.

“Watch it!” a Spinner snapped as Claire, studying a woman’s hair sculpted to look like a swan, accidentally stepped on her long train.

“Sorry,” Claire mumbled and tried to move out of the way, only to bump into another Spinner, this one with arms full of scrolls. He glared at her without changing his pace, the scrolls’ colorful tags wagging at her like an admonishing finger.

Claire hurried to follow Lyric through the crowded streets, trying not to get too distracted by the massive ribbons fluttering from the boats’ decks in the harbor, their flags crisscrossing the sky like a giant’s game of cat’s cradle.

Needle Pointe was, as Sophie would say, spectacular. Claire wished Sophie were here to see— No. Claire stopped that thought in its tracks.

She did not wish Sophie were here at all, not in the slightest! Sophie needed to stay safe in Woven Root until Claire had managed to gather all four pieces of Arden’s crown.

“Gather”? Claire could practically imagine Sophie’s snort (a habit she’d picked up from Sena) at her plan. Is that the new word for “steal”?

What would you do? Claire thought back at the little voice in her head, which was sounding more and more like Sophie with each passing day.