Lyric sat there, seemingly surprised. “Of course I’m not! How can I be? I don’t know the steps. And Kleo—she promised—argggh!”

Lyric leaped to her feet and ran toward the stairs. Claire knew that in any other, non-Spinner household, they would be hearing the stomp of her feet up the stairs, but the cushy carpet completely muted the sound. It was too bad, really, Claire thought sympathetically. Sometimes, the loud declaration of a stomped foot was helpful in getting rid of anger. The sound meant that she was here, and she was important, and she should be paid attention to. That’s what Mom had explained when Sophie had started getting particularly moody and was slamming doors on a near weekly basis.

“Sorry you had to see that,” Mistress Weft said. “I’ll go and check on her.”

But Claire again saw how the woman’s eyes sized up the amount of wool still left to be tamed.

“I’ll go,” Claire said, quickly placing the plates in the sink and wiping her hands on a nearby towel. Sometimes when people were upset, they wanted to be left alone, but from the expression in Lyric’s eyes … Claire thought that maybe just the opposite was happening.

And if she was really going to run away tonight, she’d at least have to say good-bye to Lyric first.

Claire climbed the stairs and stopped in Kleo’s room to grab something from her Hollow Pack before she tapped on Lyric’s bedroom door. “Lyric? Can I come in?”

There was no response, which Claire took as a good sign. She let herself through.

Lyric had flopped onto her bed and was staring wide-eyed up at her canopy, while her braids and loops hung over the mattress’s edge, nearly brushing the floor.

“What do you want?” Lyric asked. She didn’t sound mad, only glum.

“I just wanted to see how you were.” Claire replied with the truth. “And to say, I think you looked really good during practice. I think you have a chance.”

Lyric sighed, and the sound wrapped around the room. “I don’t know about that. Maybe if Kleo were here to help …” She rolled onto her belly and looked at Claire. “She left us earlier than she had to, you know. She had an entire summer she could have spent with Mama and me before she started on her journeyman trials. She has her whole life to be a historian!”

Claire was confused. “But you’re also rushing away to something,” she pointed out. “You want to go be a part of the queen’s court.”

“So I can see Kleo!” Lyric said, flopping again into the pillows. “She was Historian Fray’s former apprentice. Historian Fray will make sure she’s at court. She’ll probably be the youngest royal recorder and I’ll just be … silly little Lyric, stuck at home.”