Sena nodded. “Its name is Clearcut,” she said, and, cradling the sword like a small puppy, she stepped back to stand next to Claire.
“And finally,” Sophie said, “Claire Martinson.”
“Me?” Claire asked, surprised.
“Well,” Sophie amended, lowering her voice slightly. “This one’s from me, really.” She reached behind her ear and tugged a pencil from her dark hair.
Claire gasped. It was her pencil. Though last time she’d seen it, it had been nothing more than a few splinters. Though it was a little shorter and the blossom was gone, as she took it she could still feel the familiar spark of the letterstone. And on the side, so tiny it was hardly even a fleck, was a little leaf.
It was whole, and it would grow again.
Sophie smiled at her and raised her voice. “The unicorns thank you, Claire Martinson, for your courage. You are brave beyond all measure and by all definitions. Use this pencil as you continue to explore worlds and magic.”
Claire felt tears prickle at her eyes, but she wouldn’t let them fall. Not yet. So instead, she chose to be joyful, and she hugged her sister and then Mom and Dad, who’d stepped forward too, beaming.
The unicorns reared, their crystal horns throwing rainbows into the air. The Guilds of Arden cheered, long and loud, and Claire felt as though a star had risen in her heart. And when the sisters broke apart, Nadia raised her hands and grinned.
“And now,” she called, “we celebrate!”
The banquet was a feast to remember. Claire sat with her friends on one end of a long table piled with savory Forger pies, grilled river fish from the Spinners, and buttery Tiller pastries. (The Gemmers had been happy to leave their thin lentil stews in the mountaintops.) Nestled next to Sophie, she laughed and joked with her friends and family. At one point, Thorn slid away to get them all more hot apple cider, and Claire took advantage of the opportunity.
“I’m still really confused,” she confessed. “You were so mean to Thorn in Fyrton and during the cart ride. I thought you were mad at him?”
Sophie shook her head. It was still strange to see her hair, dark and loose, tumbling past her shoulders. The only time Claire had ever really seen Sophie with her hair down was when they played mermaids on the beach.
“I wasn’t mad at him, not at all,” Sophie said. Sophie still sounded like Sophie, but she’d become more formal in the past week. “I just didn’t know how to tell him that I wasn’t … that I was becoming a unicorn. And until I knew what that really meant, I didn’t think it would be fair to, you know …” She fluttered her hand, as though that were any explanation, and for the first time, Claire saw a pink blush color her sister’s nose.
“Lead him on?” Sena asked, grinning slyly across the embroidered tablecloth.
“Yes, fine, if you want to call it that.”
Claire smiled. “I feel a little bad. At Estelle’s coronation, for a second, I thought that he actually had switched sides. Again.”
“It was my plan, to get captured,” Sophie admitted. “The crowds were so thick, and the only way I could think of getting to the unicorn in time to talk with him was if Estelle called me to the stage herself.” She wrinkled her nose. “I suspected that the unicorn wasn’t the unicorn. Thorn did something funny to my hair, though, to try to look like yours. But your curls are so beautiful, there was no way he could manage to replicate them in such little time.”
Self-consciously, Claire tugged on a curl and looked down at the peacocks embroidered on the tablecloth. They strutted about, congregating around fallen crumbs, though their thread beaks didn’t need them for nourishment. For a moment, everything felt perfect.
Golden trees from Fyrton’s Vaults had been pulled up, the metal lightly heated to keep everyone warm even on the cold night. Gemglows had been strung, crisscrossing the sky and bathing everyone in diamond light. Meanwhile, Tillers had planted special winter roses that, paired with a bit of Spinner string, plinked melodically during the courses.
This was better than perfect.
It was right.
And she would enjoy it while it lasted.
The celebration continued long into the night, and Claire could not remember ever being so happy. She beamed as she watched her parents relax in Arden. Mom chatted happily with Mistress Weft, and Dad had a deep conversation with a very enthusiastic Aquila. He nodded as he listened carefully, while at the same time he was careful to avoid the pointed heads of her battle-axes as she turned animatedly to address the small crowd gathered around them—Spinners, Tillers, and even a Gemmer journeyman Claire recognized from her time at Stonehaven.
Later, Claire listened to the Malchains discuss plans for one of Nadia’s other ideas: an Academy of Magic, where all four guilds could learn together for the first time in more than three hundred years. Claire also asked the Steeles questions about the family’s plans to travel through Arden, revitalizing the frozen chimera wherever they came across them, and she could see how excited Nett was at the thought of the new books and knowledge they were sure to encounter.
Her friends had bright new futures, and Claire was sad she wouldn’t be able to see them. Because Claire and her parents had decided that right after the inauguration, when all the guilds and unicorns were still gathered, would be the best and safest time for them to travel into the seams of the world and back to Windemere.
Home. She missed it. And she was curious about the magic Nadia had mentioned—the magic in all worlds. Even so, as the morning birds began to chirp, she wasn’t quite ready when Nadia came to gather the Martinsons and their friends for their final goodbye. She led them to a private spot behind Aquila’s cottage where a doorframe of silver, oak, ribbon, and rock had been constructed. The door itself had been left blank, waiting for Claire’s pencil.
“Promise you won’t forget to water your pencil,” Nett said, the tip of his nose bright red.
“I already promised,” Claire said, but she promised again as she hugged her very first friend in Arden tight. “And you, don’t forget your promise.”
Nett laughed. “I promise to make you two inches taller in all my historical accounts.” He turned away to make his farewell to Claire’s parents, who had fascinated him with their stories of the other world. Next, Claire found Sena, and was shocked to see the older girl had already burst into tears, a distressed Gryphin flying away to avoid the wetness and potential rust.
“Sena,” Claire said, somewhat delightedly, “You’re going all ‘moss soft’ on me!”
“I can’t help it,” Sena grumbled, wiping away her tears with the back of her hand. “Don’t tell Nett.”
Finally, the others seemed to drift away to let the sisters speak to each other.
“Sophie, are you sure you can’t come back with us?”
“Claire,” Sophie said, “I don’t think I can go down the well or through your drawing, and even if I could, I wouldn’t.” She took a deep breath. “I belong here. Arden needs me.”
“I need you!”
Sophie smiled sadly. “You don’t, not really. You know me just as well as you know yourself.” That much was true. Even apart, Claire couldn’t help but hear Sophie’s voice—her advice, her teasing, her love—wherever she may go. Sophie would never be gone from Claire, not really.
But even so, she reached out for Sophie’s hand and gripped it hard.
“There is magic in our world,” Claire said, thinking of Sylvia and Mathieu’s journals and Nadia’s speech. “Aunt Nadia said it was all around us.” She fumbled, trying to think of how best to articulate what she was feeling, needing to say her tenuous thought to make it whole and permanent. “Sophie, unicorns are magic, right?”
Sophie nodded ever so slightly. “And magic,” she said, reaching out to squeeze Claire’s hand, “is everywhere. If you know how to look for it.”
They were both quiet a moment, watching the inauguration banners fluttering from Woven Root’s tents, and letting thoughts drift in and out.
“Sophie?�
� Claire said, her voice breaking. “I’m going to miss you.”
“Me too,” Sophie said, her voice thick. “I love being your sister.” She let go of Claire’s hand and held out her arms, and Claire threw herself into them. The tears came freely.
They stood like that, the sisters of Arden, for a time. It could have been for a season; it could have been the time of Windemere or the time of Arden, but she felt as though they had stepped outside it, and they were just themselves.
Something warm nudged the backs of Claire’s knees, and she saw Gryphin had settled by her feet, and then she saw something else. Startled, she broke into laughter. All around them, where Sophie’s tears had fallen, were snowdrops.
And somewhere inside, Claire felt her sorrow break. She giggled and wiped her nose. “Imagine what people would think at school if you cried flowers everywhere!”
Sophie chuckled, dabbed at her eyes with a sleeve. “You’re going to have the most amazing Experiences.”
“Me?” Claire laughed. “You’re a unicorn!”
A smile as wide as the horizon and as bright as the dawn now breaking across the plains appeared on Sophie’s face. “I didn’t say that I wasn’t going to have amazing Experiences! There is so much to see and do and explore.”
They returned to the others, and there was one more round of hugs and promises to remember forever.
“You’ll take care of her?” Dad said, keeping his arms around his oldest daughter but looking at Aunt Nadia.
The new Prime Minister of Arden smiled. “I think it’s more like Sophie will be taking care of me—of all of us, really.”
“We love you, Sophie,” Mom said, her eyes sparkling. Then it was Claire’s turn.
“Will … will I see you again?”
“Unicorns know a lot of things,” Sophie said, “but we don’t know the future. I can tell you, though, that you’ll dream of me. Often. And when you have a sudden inspiration to draw something, it’ll be me, sharing my adventures with you. And I do know that this goodbye won’t be forever.”
“But it’s not going to be the same, is it?”
Sophie didn’t say anything, but she didn’t have to. Claire knew she already had the answer. One more hug, tight and fierce and short, and then Claire let her sister go.
Taking a deep breath, Claire turned away, and she did not look back again. She had a new quest, her own quest, and she would make sure to enjoy every moment of it. Behind her, hundreds of hooves pounded across the plain, and then a moment later, the air was full of song as all the unicorns of Arden were home at last.
Claire pulled her pencil from behind her ear and set the tip to the door. Last time she’d sketched everything she loved about Arden, but now it was time to remember everything she loved about her own world. With the weight of Mom’s and Dad’s hands on her shoulders and the magic of unicorns in the air, Claire drew her own way home.
EPILOGUE
She’d grown since the first day she and her family had arrived at Windemere Manor. Last summer, the fireplace’s mantel had loomed overhead, but now Claire was eye level with it. Well, almost eye level.
After everything that happened, Mom and Dad had changed their mind about selling Windemere Manor. It would take two years for the house to be properly rebuilt from the strange flames that had torn through the mansion. But it was a historic home, and there were societies that were willing to help them cover the costs of fixing the damage from the fire that had begun, somehow, in the art gallery on the first floor. Everything would be rebuilt—even the fireplace’s chimney.
It had been a strange fire, everyone agreed on that, but nothing had befuddled the fire department more than the hearth of the fireplace. It wasn’t scorched but warped. As though the stone had been melted and reformed. As though it had survived an earthquake—though no earthquakes had been recorded here for a very long time. Claire let her hands run over the mantel’s carvings of forest animals among foliage. And here and there, she’d discovered, a carved image of a hammer, a gemstone, an oak leaf, and a love knot.
She would always be searching for magic in this world.
“Claire! It’s time to go!”
“In a minute, Mom!” she called back. Outside, she could hear Dad rev the engine. They were heading home to their small house, two hours away, but they would be back next weekend. Like Claire, her parents preferred to be here. She hurried down the length of the gallery, empty now but for a few footprints.
As she reached the double doors, Claire turned back to look one more time at the room.
Though none of the windows was open, a wind sighed through the gallery, soft as Spyden silk and light as a unicorn. A wind that seemed brushed with the sights and smells of possible worlds. Claire closed her eyes. For a second, she thought she felt a tug at her bushy ponytail, and her hand drifted to the purple ribbon wrapped around her curls. She would see her sister again—she was sure of it. And in the meantime, what other worlds were out there?
Her fingers tingled. She was ready to capture the image that had just blossomed in her mind, one of a unicorn, her head high, crystal horn gleaming, as she raced the wind to her next Experience. Smiling, Claire closed the double doors and tugged her pencil free.
Its leaf was still green.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
In a strange twist of fate, quests sometimes begin at the end. The very first thing I knew about Claire and Sophie’s story was how it would conclude. Though I knew the destination, I needed the creativity, thoughtfulness, and patience of many people to light the way. And so, it seems right to end this trilogy by thanking the people who were with me from the very beginning.
Tremendous thanks is due to the guiding stars at Glasstown Entertainment: Lexa Hillyer, Laura Parker, Rebecca Kuss, Emily Berge-Thielmann, and Lynley Bird. A special thanks to Rebecca, for her endless enthusiasm, keen eyes, and passion for children’s literature—Sophie and Claire are lucky to have you venture into these pages. Thank you, too, to Stephen Barbara, a literary agent with a unicorn’s talent to open previously unimagined doors, and to the rest of Inkwell Management, in particular Lyndsey Blessing, Sharon Chudnow, Emma Gougeon, and Alexis Hurley.
I owe an avalanche of thanks and gratitude to my editor Sarah Shumway. Without her support, wise words, sharp insights, and encouragement, this book would simply not exist. She made it possible to travel through the hazy Way Between and into Arden. Thank you to the rest of the Way-Makers at Bloomsbury, both in the US & UK: Cindy Loh, Lucy Mackay-Sim, Annette Pollert-Morgan, Claire Stetzer, Valentina Rice, Erica Barmash, Phoebe Dyer, Lily Yengle, Alona Fryman, Teresa Sarmiento, Faye Bi, Courtney Griffin, Erica Loberg, Beth Eller, Nick Sweeney, Veronica Gonzalez, Jasmine Miranda, Stacy Abrams, Katharine Wiencke, Juliette Rechatin, Maia Fjord, Stephanie Amster, Laura Main Ellen, Cesca Hopwood, Grace Ball, and Namra Amir. And an extra thank you to Melissa Kavonic, Oona “Oona-corn” Patrick, Donna Mark, John Candell, and Claire Henry, who deserve an entire night’s sky of wishing stars for the incredible amount of effort and kindness they showed this book. And last but not least, thank you to Nicholas Church, who moved mountains and founded a brand-new, fifth guild: the Time-Maker guild, which can spin days from seconds. Thank you! And of course, much appreciation to artists Vivienne To and Matt Saunders for the beautiful covers that provided so much inspiration for these final pages. And speaking of inspiration …
Unicorns are wonder. They are hope. They are love. They are all those cheesy things that we only call cheesy because we’re too intimidated to acknowledge that they are the forces that shape our world—and us. And so I want to thank the authors whom I’ve never met but who directed me to wonder: Beverly Cleary, Shannon Hale, Madeleine L’Engle, Gail Carson Levine, L. M. Montgomery, and Tamora Pierce.
Thank you, too, to the friends and family who continued to ask “what happens next?” and made me imagine bigger: Sarah Jane Abbott, Melissa Albert, Medea Asatiani, Rhoda Belleza, Lizzy Mason, Brigid Kemmerer, Kristina Pérez, Matthew Richman, Tara Sonin Schlesing
er, Catherine Waters, and Alexa Wejko, as well as to Liz Silva, D. J. Silva, Molly Silva, Katie Blacquier, Charlotte Blacquier, Eliza Blacquier, Caroline Spector, Alice Spector, and Sean Spector. Special thanks to Tara, Mimi, and Brigid, whose insights and feedback were both invaluable and necessary to gallop forward.
I wish I had the words to properly thank my parents, Marguerite and Zoltán Benko, and my siblings, Gabriella and Matthias Benko, for all their love while I spun, grew, forged, and sculpted ideas into novels. They see the very messiest moments of creating—and they still like me anyway. In particular, thank you to Papa, who took phone calls at all hours of the day and night, and always had the answer. And from the whole of my heart, thank you to Andrej Ficnar, who braved sinks full of dishes, emergency chocolate runs, and weekends of typing. You’re the best partner in this world and in all worlds.
And finally, thank you to you—for sticking by Claire and Sophie and Arden until the end. It’s been the joy of my heart to write these books, and though this tale is over for now, I hope you keep questing for unicorns. I promise: they’re out there, and if you look, you will find them.
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First published in the United States of America in February 2020 by Bloomsbury Children’s Books
Text copyright © 2020 by Kamilla Benko
Map copyright © 2020 by Diana Sousa
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