No, Claire thought back stubbornly. Sophie’s useful even as a girl. I’ll crown Nadia and Nadia will defeat Estelle. Problem solved, without any transformations … right?

“There could be other ways to fight them,” Claire said, looking up. “Something more than just sunlight and unicorns.”

Thorn, who’d been taking a sip of water, made a face. “Maybe.”

He placed the mug back down and scratched his chin. “We don’t really know much about wraiths or how they came to be. They weren’t always in Arden.” He shrugged. “They might be like Spydens. A magical experiment gone very, very wrong.”

Claire turned over his words. Magic was definitely beautiful, but it had its risks. Sena’s parents, a Tiller and a Forger, had been experimenting with the seams of the world, and they had vanished without a trace.

“Cinders and smoke,” a man’s voice said from behind them. “I didn’t believe what they’re saying on the streets, but here you are: Anvil and Aquila Malchain.”

Claire looked up to see a man who was roughly the size and shape of a boulder standing behind them. He wore a leather apron over what could have been a gray shirt, or a white shirt covered in soot. Wrapped around his considerable girth was a thick belt from which hung a handful of hammers as well as some clinking keys that were just as shiny as his bald head.

Claire recognized this man. The last she’d seen him, he’d locked her and her friends up for trespassing on his secret supply of black-market items. But—what was his name? The blank expression in Anvil’s eyes told her that Thorn didn’t remember, either. She thought it had been on the sign of his shop. Something’s Silverorium … She had it!

“Scythe!” Claire said too loudly in her eagerness to spit it out. “How—how are you?”

“No need to be so formal with an old friend,” Scythe said, pulling up an unused chair to squash himself between Thorn and Claire. “Edgar will be just fine. And I must say, it is good to see you, Aquila, considering that you swore never to return to Fyrton.”

“Hmm,” Claire said, stalling for something Aquila-like to say. She hadn’t realized that it would be a surprise that Aquila had returned to Fyrton. In fact, there were a lot of things she didn’t know about Aquila: her middle name, who her friends were—she didn’t even know how old Aquila was! Just … old.

“Times … they change,” Claire said feebly.

“What are you doing back?” Scythe asked, reaching for Claire’s untouched tankard of water. The smell of smoke lingered on his shirtsleeve.

“We’re waiting to speak to the grandmasters,” Thorn said truthfully.

Scythe snorted into the tankard. “You’ll be waiting awhile; didn’t you hear who arrived at dawn? Axel.”