“Not funny,” the girl ground out. “You try having your hand permanently locked in a glove of gold! It’s heavy! And— No, Gryphin. No!”

There was a squawk like a rusty hinge, and Claire caught a glimpse of candlelight on copper wings as a chimera about the size of a large drinking goblet pulled out of its dive. A silver key dangled in its talons, and the formerly neat clump of keys was now scattered across the floor. The girl let out an exasperated sigh while the boy scrambled after one still spinning on the hardwood.

Claire knew this boy and girl. But before she could say anything, a third figure melted out from the shadows. With an easy grace, the new figure snatched the chimera out of the air and plucked the key from its talon.

“Here you go, ” she said, her ponytail swaying sassily as she handed the key to the redheaded girl and sternly addressed the boy. “Nett, back off of Sena.” She paused and glanced toward the gauntlet-clad girl. “I think your jokes might be getting … out of hand.”

Sena Steele scowled while Nettle Green let out a gleeful whoop of laughter.

“Not funny,” Sena huffed, which only made Nett laugh harder.

The second girl ducked her head to hide a smile, turning her face ever so slightly toward the door where Claire stood, flanked on either side by Scythe and a Make-a-Face Anvil. The second girl suddenly straightened. “Scythe, you’re back! Did you manage to get the File Away? Or find out why another grandmaster meeting was called this morning? And—” She broke off with a gasp. “Wait … is that you, Anvil?! How did you—? But …” Her eyes finally landed on Claire. “Clairina! ”

And then Sophie was running toward her with a fluid grace that made Claire’s breath catch. Or maybe that was how hard Sophie was now hugging her, squeezing her as though she would never let go. This was no Spyden silk illusion. Claire wrapped her arms around her sister. Her human sister. Sophie was here! In Fyrton! With Scythe!

And then.

Something barreled through Claire, pushing at her insides like helium in a balloon: an emotion. But she couldn’t name it. Was it a stunning joy or a devouring fear?

Sophie was here. In Fyrton. Away from Woven Root.

The questions flooded Claire, each one clamoring, each one demanding an answer. But only one question could come first. Claire stepped out of Sophie’s hug and looked up at her big sister. “Why are you following me?!”

Sophie blinked in surprise. “I— What?”

And the thing that had been pushing at Claire grew sharper, twisting in her gut, and suddenly, Claire realized it wasn’t joy or fear. It was fury.

“Why are you following me?” Claire repeated, crossing her arms. “I told you I could do this! I told you to stay in Woven Root. Why don’t you believe in me? You never listen!”

“Claire, I—”