A loud clang reverberated throughout the workshop as the hammer connected with the ax. The weapon flew from Thorn’s hand, spinning wildly in the air until it hit a pile of coins. Claire threw her hands over her head as metal bits clattered down around them. But even in the din, Claire could hear Thorn’s terrified yelp.

The hammer’s blow had knocked Thorn to the floor, and though he still looked like Anvil, a red lump was protruding from his head where a wayward coin had smacked him. But that wasn’t what made her breath catch in her throat. Scythe had stepped to loom over Thorn, and this time, his hammer wasn’t aiming for Thorn’s ax. It was aimed at his head.

“I’m giving you until three,” Scythe growled. “Who. Are. You?”

“I-I’m …,” Thorn rasped, but he couldn’t seem to get the words out.

“One,” Scythe began. “Two …”

Claire couldn’t look away. This was her fault! She’d been the one to say they should go to the Silverorium, though she knew how dangerous it was to cross the silversmith. Last time, she and Nett and Sena had ended up under a chain net. Last time, they’d almost lost their lives as Sena had looked for the stolen Unicorn Harp. Last time— Claire’s thoughts caught, as though on a hook, as she remembered what, exactly, had happened last time.

“Three!” Scythe’s hammer swooped down.

“Nadia! ” Claire yelled. “IknowNadia!”

Thud.

At the last moment, Scythe’s hammer had changed direction, shifting slightly to connect with the floorboards instead of Thorn’s head.

“What did you say?” Scythe practically snarled as he lifted the hammer back to his shoulder, revealing a new dent in the hardwood floor. He stalked toward Claire.

“Nadia,” Claire babbled. “I know Nadia and Cotton and Ravel and Woven Root!”

“What makes you think those names mean anything to me?” Scythe demanded as he tapped the hammer’s head against his palm. It made a wet, hollow sound.

“B-b-because,” Claire said, the letters tripping over her tongue as though they were trying to hide from his hammer, “Sena stole the Unicorn Harp to trade you for information about her parents. And you—you told her that her mom was somewhere near Constellation Range!”

“So?” Scythe sneered, but confidence surged through Claire. He was stalling. She must be right!

“So,” Claire repeated, “Constellation Range is where Woven Root is. Or was,” she added hastily. One of the ways the alchemist village managed to maintain its secrecy was by never staying in one place for too long.

Scythe studied her, silent. And then suddenly—he lunged!

Claire caught a glimpse of silver scissor blades in the second before Scythe grabbed Aquila’s gray hair and pulled. Hard.