Claire opened her eyes to see Lyric standing over her, tugging her arm. The Historium seemed to have emptied, and now only a few straggler dancers remained, squeezing in one last practice. Claire hadn’t realized she’d fallen asleep, and she must have been out for at least a few hours for everyone to have gone home. The last thing she remembered was the smooth way the image beneath her pencil’s tip had blossomed across the page, along with a story … or maybe it was a dream?

Claire gave her hands a little shake. She’d fallen asleep on them, and they tingled a bit. The sketch was smooshed against her face, and she peeled it off. Even though it was a little smudged, the illustration was still clear. She’d sketched a princess and a queen standing in an unfamiliar throne room. Both their backs were toward the viewer, but a crown was on full display. It was a rough sketch, but she could just make out four little symbols, one on each of the crown’s four points, beneath the moontear settings: a hammer, an oak leaf, a love knot, and a gemstone.

Claire studied it. Sometimes scenes came tumbling out of her. And when they did, it always felt a little like magic. As though the pencil had taken control of her fingers. Her eyes shifted to the edge of the page, where she’d drawn a border of geese. She followed their flight down to the corner of the page and paused.

Her fourth-grade art teacher had made a big deal about signing all their pieces with an Artist Signature, which she’d always pronounced with a capital A and a capital S. Claire usually marked her art with clear block letters: C. Martinson. This time, she’d signed her sketch with something that looked more like a scribble, though she could make out a capital letter E, complete with curlicues.

She wondered—had she written E for her fake name, Elaina, or E for Estelle? She shook her head. That made no sense. She’d let herself get too carried away by her imagination.

“Lyric, did you find her? Oh, there you are!” Kleo’s voice came from above, and Claire hastily scrunched the sketch into her pocket. She didn’t need Kleo or any of the Royalist Spinners to see that she’d drawn a crown. She didn’t want them getting suspicious of her intentions.

“I’m s-sorry,” Claire sputtered. “I haven’t slept in—”

“That’s fine,” Kleo said, cutting her off. “It’s time for you and Lyric to head home.”

“Wait,” Lyric said with a frown. “Are you not coming back with us? You promised you’d go over the steps with me!”

“I’m sorry, L,” Kleo said, and her eyes shifted to Claire for just a moment. Unease trickled through Claire. “I promise I’ll help you when I can, but something’s come up.”