“It’s a pretty place,” Claire said, moving farther away from the entrance to stand next to her sister.
“It’s even more beautiful in the daytime. The stained glass is amazing.”
Claire hadn’t noticed the windows in the dark, but now she saw that all the walls except for the one she’d entered from had a large stained glass window. But without the sun, it was hard to see their images.
“What do they show?” she asked.
“Unicorns, mostly,” Sophie said with a small smile. “Come look.” Picking up the Gemglows, Sophie moved closer and Claire followed. The windows did show unicorns—unicorns in gardens, next to rivers, on cliffs, under waterfalls—but that wasn’t all. They also showed humans, men and women and children in jewel-toned cloaks and with smiling faces, standing peacefully with the unicorns.
“This one’s my favorite,” Sophie said, nodding to an image of a unicorn approaching a girl in a sunset meadow. She’d pulled her ponytail to the top of her head. Now she let go, and it slid easily back into place. As easily, Claire thought with sudden panic, as Sophie had slid into Arden.
“I also like this one, too.” Sophie pointed to the border. “Do you see how the page boy is pretending to be a unicorn with a pine cone? That’s totally something I would— Hey.” She broke off as she turned to look at Claire. “Is something wrong?”
Claire wasn’t sure what to say. For a moment, she stood quietly, the sounds of the war preparation outside nothing more than a distant growl.
“There are creatures out there that are after you. Estelle is after you,” Claire said at last. “Aren’t you scared? Even a little?”
“Me?” Sophie let out a small laugh, and it was so unexpected, Claire almost jumped. “Clairina, I’m scared of everything. I’m scared of losing everything. But I’ve lived with that fear since long before I was in the center of a magical war.”
Her illness. If Sophie did turn back into just a girl, would that mean … would she still be sick? Magic couldn’t fix everything. Was she destined to lose her sister either way?
“Sophie, I—” Claire stopped talking. In the darkness next to her feet, she caught a glimpse of skirting movement. She gripped the crown tighter as the hair on the back of her neck prickled. Beetles?
But as she held up her pink marble, Claire saw what it was. The tiny tiles that had once been a unicorn in the mosaic were scurrying over one another, running away into the corners of the room, leaving behind a large hole in the middle of the floor, between the sisters and the exit. In the Gemglow light, she could make out a spiraling staircase descending into the ground.
Sophie grabbed Claire and pulled her down behind the statue of King Anders. Claire quickly put out the marble’s light and extinguished the Gemglows just as she saw the tip of an obsidian spear rise up from the ground, followed by the spindly frame of Jasper. But he wasn’t alone. As soon as he stepped out off the stairs, more followed: Mira Fray and the other Royalists.
Sophie slapped her hand over Claire’s mouth before she could scream. Helpless, Claire watched as the Royalists poured into the Citadel. She gripped the crown close to her heart and wriggled her pencil out from behind her ear. Why had she delayed? If she had just gone straight to Nadia, Nadia would be queen now, and they would stand a chance! Bile rose in the back of her throat.
They—she, Sophie, Nadia, Carnelian, the grandmasters, everyone—had been so foolish! Beyond naive to think they knew all the secret tunnels and passageways of Starscrape Citadel. Zuli and Lapis’s parents knew many of the passages, but not all. Estelle, on the other hand, had summered here, her parents alive and able to pass on the secrets of the castle.
The Royalists—about twenty in all—circled the opening as a final figure emerged from the depths: Queen Estelle d’Astora.
Without Scholar Terra’s spectacles she seemed younger but no less monstrous—after all, only monsters would wear what she was wearing.
On first glance, her ebony gown seemed more suitable for ballrooms than for battle. But when she shifted, Claire heard the clink of gems and saw rainbows ripple across the hundreds of Mesmerizing Opals that had been sewn to her skirt. Claire immediately looked away, not wanting the stones to catch her mind and put her under Estelle’s persuasion. But a moment later, she wished she had lost herself in the dreamy control of the gems, because what she saw next was worse.
Much, much worse.
The necklace around her throat was not of pearls but of teeth. Unicorn teeth, collected from long-ago battlefields. The breastplate she wore over sleeves slashed with gold was ghostly white and much thinner than the metal Claire had seen the Forgers hammer. It took her one breath more to realize that the overlocking links weren’t metal at all but shards of bone. Next to her, she heard Sophie swallow hard.
Estelle had guessed—had known—they wouldn’t expect her onslaught until tomorrow night. Or expect her to infiltrate the castle so close to dawn. She would sneak in, kill the unicorn, and use its heart to make her wraiths withstand the sun, and then she would attack Starscrape in the bright light of day, when absolutely no one would be ready.
Claire wanted to turn her head and bury her eyes in Sophie’s shoulder. But she was a Gemmer—maybe she could stop them from leaving this room. A tight pinch on the inside of her knee made her look at Sophie. Her sister shook her head ever so slightly. Don’t risk the crown. Wait. So Claire did.
Estelle didn’t say a word; she only nodded once, and the Royalists’ blue cloaks rustled slightly as they streamed out of the room ahead of her, like an announcing procession. In just a few seconds, Claire and Sophie would be alone, and then they could figure out the next step.
But as Estelle neared the door, she slowed, then stopped. “I know you’re in here, little unicorn,” she breathed. Claire and Sophie had only a second to react before Estelle whirled around and slammed the ram’s head cane into the statue of King Anders.
CHAPTER
26
The statue fragmented, sending shards of stone flying in all directions. The rocks should have knocked Claire unconscious, but Sophie had guessed—had known a moment before—and pushed Claire to the ground, rolling them away safely before Estelle struck.
Winded, Claire gasped for breath even as she tried to scramble to her feet. She still gripped the crown tight, but fumbled for her pencil. It had been knocked from her fingers and she couldn’t see it anywhere. She looked around, but all she could see were bits of rock, a few wooden splinters, and a torn leaf.
Claire almost choked. Her pencil—it had been crushed! But there was no time to mourn.
“Don’t move,” Estelle ordered and hit the flagstone floor with the cane. Claire suddenly felt her legs grow heavy—heavy as rock. Claire tried to call out to Sophie, but even her tongue felt heavy now. It was as though gravity had increased, and the stone heart of the world wanted to pull her into itself, like a magnet.
Claire fell prone, her cheek flat against the flagstones and her legs and arms seemingly cemented to the earth. A moment later, Sophie, too, collapsed, sprawling next to her.
They were trapped.
Queen Estelle’s hideous gown whispered as it moved across the floor, and the sound only stopped when she reached Claire and plucked the Crown of Arden from her hands.
“Thank you,” Estelle said, “for preparing this for me.” And then she raised the four-pointed crown—the crown that made its wearer’s magic even more powerful—and set it on her brow.
It was over.
Finished.
Done.
Even if anyone did come to help them, it was too late. Estelle, adorned in unicorn artifacts, wore the Crown of Arden.
Estelle was queen again … and Nadia would never be crowned.
The remade queen of Arden closed her eyes and breathed in, as though smelling something sweet: Victory. Triumph. Absolute power. A terrible grin spread across the queen’s face.
With the last of her strength, Claire struggled against the earth’s pull, lifting
her head just enough to turn it the other way. Her gaze locked on Sophie, who was already looking at her. Sophie’s littlest finger twitched.
A pinky promise.
A sister’s promise.
A promise to be with her, until the very end.
Except … a pearly light softly filtered in.
Estelle turned around, the gems on her gown clinking.
“You,” she breathed.
The unicorn had arrived.
Unable to see clearly at first, Claire could still hear the chime of diamond hooves striking the floor. The unicorn didn’t charge forward, like he had that night on the Sorrowful Plains. Instead, he approached steadily, deliberately, until at last, he moved into Claire’s field of vision.
The queen leveled the ram’s head at his chest, but still the unicorn did not falter. One step, and then another, and then he was toe to hoof with the queen, the deadly cane an inch from his chest.
An inch from his heart.
Strange shadows flitted across the queen’s face in the glow of the unicorn’s horn. The last queen and the last unicorn stood across from each other, still as the monoliths they’d once been. And then—
I remember you. The unicorn’s voice did not sound in Claire’s ears or even in her head but in the same place she heard magic’s hum. He spoke not with words but with memories. Chubby hands wrapping in his mane as the little princess pulled herself up to take her first step. Round cheeks, tear-streaked, pressed against his neck as she cried over a skinned knee. The memories shifted and settled into a story.
A girl Claire’s age stood at a white marble crypt, her mother’s name freshly engraved across it. Her little brother stood beside her, eyes solemn beneath his crop of curls. When the unicorn took a step toward them, the girl turned fierce gray eyes on him. “Go away,” she shouted. “You didn’t save her!” The unicorn did as she requested, knowing grieving hearts needed time to heal and that one day she might come to understand not everyone needed saving.
Death was in Arden. Another graveyard, another funeral: the girl-turned-woman grieved as they now laid her father the king to rest in his grave. That night, the woman stormed at her younger brother, telling him it had to be done. It was the only way. If they didn’t, they would keep losing family. Keep losing friends. The Gemmers were losing too much.
The brother refused and instead called the unicorn with the crystal flute, and together, both creatures fled into the night.
The next time he saw her, she wore the Crown of Arden and led a hunt. She was happy. The legends had been right: anyone who killed a unicorn did live forever. Her armies were undefeated. Her most loyal soldiers now immortal and incapable of leaving her like her parents had done. The unicorn sorrowed. The humans did not yet know the cost.
The unicorn watched as the rumors began to spread: of Gemmer soldiers disappearing overnight. Of whole regiments retreating from the sun. And at the same time, of new and terrible creatures appearing in Arden, monsters as twisted and terrible as the crime they had committed.
The unicorn watched the queen rage fearfully in the night, scrubbing at shadowed spots on her hands that would not come off, no matter how many elixirs and antidotes she tried. The potions and vast amount of unicorn artifacts she wore only slowed down her transformation, but they would not stop it. Each week, she had to add a new ring to her finger, to hide the skin that seemed to have turned into melted shadow.
The unicorn watched from the Needles as Estelle traveled to the Spydens, and one told her how she could stop from turning into a wraith: she needed an exchange of hearts. So the queen decided that she would change out her heart for the most powerful one of all: a unicorn’s heart.
She would live forever. Rule forever. She would walk in sunlight again.
The unicorn watched as the Spyden shared another truth with Estelle: “When the last unicorn with crystal horn is extinguished, the wraiths will no longer have anything to fear, not even the sun.” They would be able to step into the daylight.
“No more of these half steps and potions,” Estelle crooned to her former Gemmer army. “We will find the last unicorn. I will take its heart to keep my human form, and when the last light ebbs from his crystal horn, you, my darling wraiths, will move in the daylight once more.” The shadows swarmed her, but the unicorn knew that the queen did not feel their cold. She was already frozen, even as she promised to reunite them with the sun. “The last unicorn still gallops the Sorrowful Plains, and I will ride tonight.”
She was so focused on her wraiths that again she did not see the unicorn watching her through the branches of the petrified trees or notice him gallop off into the night in search of the lost prince.
Though her body still felt too heavy, Claire’s mind raced.
Arden legend promised that anyone who killed a unicorn would live forever.
Three hundred years ago, the Gemmers hunted unicorns to extinction. Three hundred years ago, wraiths swarmed Arden. The wraiths did not appear in Arden after the unicorns had died out. They appeared in Arden because the unicorns had been killed.
The unicorn hunters would live forever, but not as humans—as wraiths.
Which meant Queen Estelle, huntress of unicorns, had also been cursed, her transformation into a shadow only slowed down by the powerful magic of the unicorn artifacts she wielded.
But … surely Claire had seen Terra in daylight? Yet, as she combed through her memories, she realized she’d never seen Terra in the morning or afternoon. She’d only ever seen the woman in the evenings, after sunset, and always in the protection of walls or tunnels.
Estelle d’Astora was a wraith.
And her brother, Prince Martin, had known—and with this knowledge, he’d chosen to transform both unicorn and queen into the monoliths on the Sorrowful Plains. But why?
Claire glanced at Sophie … and saw the answer. And its urgency and clarity pulled Claire out of her own swirl of emotions as the unicorn again addressed the queen.
I remember, the unicorn seemed to be saying to Estelle. Do you?
“I remember how you lied,” Estelle snarled. “You and your kin tricked us with those stories of immortality! And you—you stole Martin away from me!” She raised the ram’s head cane.
“No!” The word scraped against Claire’s tongue.
Estelle looked at her in surprise. “Your magic has grown considerably to resist my enchantment,” she said, and for a moment she sounded like Scholar Terra, and that gave Claire strength.
She might not be able to reason with Estelle, Hunter of Unicorns, but maybe, just maybe, she could with Scholar Terra, her friend. Her teacher.
Maybe Claire could reason with the little princess who’d loved the duck pond that Claire had glimpsed in the pencil’s sketch.
The big sister Martin had come back for.
“Martin never abandoned you,” Claire said. “He loved you!”
Scorn filled every line of Estelle’s face. “Martin trapped me,” Estelle snarled. “He turned me to stone. For three hundred years, I was helpless on the Sorrowful Plains. Alone.”
“But you were never alone,” Sophie said, her voice thin as she tried to speak around whatever Estelle was doing to them. “The unicorn never left you. He stood by you, watching you all this time. For three hundred years.”
“Because he was too weak to complete the craft without doing so,” Estelle snapped. “Unicorns are useless alive. Unwilling to help. He took Martin away from me, and my little brother left me all alone, like everyone else.”
“No,” Claire said. She suddenly felt Sophie’s hand in hers, and the weight in her limbs began to lighten. “Martin didn’t abandon you. He loved you,” she repeated. “You were turning into a wraith! He turned you into stone to slow down the transformation. To give you time to find an antidote that wouldn’t cost you the rest of yourself. Like you, he couldn’t bear to lose anyone else, especially not his big sister, who used to take him to feed the ducks in the pond.”
The queen and the u
nicorn were still.
“Martin never gave up on you,” Sophie said in such a knowing voice that Claire couldn’t help but remember she was an older sister talking to an older sister. “He never forgot you. How could he? You’re his sister. He missed you.”
Sophie took a deep breath, as though trying to rein in her emotions. She squeezed Claire’s hand tighter. “He told stories of Arden to his children, encouraged them to seek out the wonderful land of his stories, so that when someone—our aunt Diana, Nadia—at last found the way back, she wouldn’t be scared to venture in. He wanted us to come. He wanted us to wake you and give you another chance!”
The unicorn stayed still, his neck nobly arched, but Claire could feel his approval in the warmth of his dark eyes, ringed by silver.
“You’re lying,” Estelle whispered, but her hand twitched. Claire held her breath. She could see how much Estelle wanted to believe Sophie and Claire. How much she hoped it was true.
At first, Claire thought it was only the expression on Estelle’s face that had changed, but then she realized that it was more than just her expression—it was her face, her skin, her body. She seemed to be shrinking, her skin turning thin and wrinkled as she began to age in front of them. The immortality of a wraith seemed to be draining from her with each passing second as another year was added to her. In just a minute more, she would be dust.
The earth, which had been hugging Claire to itself, loosened its hold. Hope fizzed through her. Had she and Sophie done it? Had they managed to defeat Estelle after all?
Suddenly, the unicorn reared up, shrieking in pain.
Claire didn’t understand, but then she saw a thin red streak across the unicorn’s flank—and heard an obsidian-tipped spear clatter against a wall. She turned her head to see Jasper standing in the doorway.
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