Lyric hurriedly shoved her notebook into her bag, but not before hastily waving the pages so that the ink would dry. As she did, her bright eyes landed on Claire. She frowned. Her mouth opened, but Claire yanked on Sena’s tunic, whirling them away into the crowd before Lyric could call out and ruin their cover.
Ducking behind a pillar, Sena and Claire stopped to catch their breath. After all this time, they’d managed only to cross about four yards, and they were no nearer to the front than they had been before.
“This is impossible,” Claire said. “We’ll never find the unicorn in time!” But at that moment, Sena’s arm pushed down slightly, and Claire could just make out a copper gleam before he darted back into the safety of her hood. Gryphin had returned.
A series of chirps sounded, a cascade of fast and furious notes that made Sena’s brows furrow as she tried to understand.
“Slow down,” she growled quietly to the air, which answered back with a rusty meow. But the chirps did slow down, and Claire’s heart began to beat faster as a fierce delight spread across Sena’s face.
“Gryphin says there’s a new hedge maze in the garden, and a bunch of Royalists are guarding it!” Sena said triumphantly. “The unicorn is probably at its center!”
“Good chimera,” Claire whispered, and she thought she could hear the chink of metal as the creature must have started to proudly preen copper feathers. The sun had now fully set, but the voices around them had risen. It was only a couple of hours until the star shower would begin, but at least they knew now where the unicorn was trapped.
Claire took a deep breath. “We should go,” she said to Sena. “We need to find Sophie and Nett—”
She broke off as she realized her words were alone in the complete and sudden silence that had fallen over the ruins. Claire turned back to face the front and saw a line of hooded Royalists walking across the dais, led by the tall, black-haired, spindly figure grasping an obsidian spear tight in his hand: Commander Jasper of Stonehaven.
Claire inhaled sharply. When she’d last seen him, he’d worn the uniform of a member of the Stonehaven Wraith Watch, but now he was in Royalist-blue robes, four rings of white sewn around both sleeves, which meant he was no longer Commander Jasper but Grandmaster Jasper.
There were other Royalists she recognized as well: a large man with a club she’d seen on the Sorrowful Plains, a woman with a wreath of woven leaves, and the hunched figure of an old man, with a single bushy eyebrow—Nett’s grandfather, Francis Green. Each Royalist carried onto the dais an object that seemed to glow with an inner light: unicorn artifacts.
Claire caught a glimpse of a knife hewn from unicorn bone; a staff inlaid with a glimmer that could only be unicorn ivory; and a drum stretched tight with unicorn hide. There was more—oh, was there more. But Claire couldn’t stand it any longer. She let her gaze unfocus as, one by one, the Royalists piled the artifacts on top of each other until all that could be made out was a gleaming mound.
Just when Claire thought the horrible parade would never end, the last Royalist finally took the dais. Like the others, her cloak hood was down, so Claire could clearly see the ancient and water-thin features of Mira Fray. She took her place at the center of the stage. Beneath her robe, she wore a blue gown that fluttered, despite the fact that there was no breeze in the hall. The fringe and tassels on her dress undulated on their own accord.
Sophie. Claire needed to find Sophie!
But she couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, as Mira Fray’s voice rolled over the expectant crowd. “All hail the last queen.”
Fray did not shout, but her voice was clear and strong, amplified, Claire guessed, by some sort of magic. “All hail the Lady of the Moon, the Guardian of the Guilds, the Sorceress of Stone, the Wrath of the Wraiths, and”—Fray gestured out somewhere beyond the crowd, toward the garden wall—“the Rider of Unicorns.”
Fray fell silent, and for a moment, the entire crowd seemed as confused as Claire felt. And then, from a distance, Claire heard the quiet thunder of hoofbeats.
“The garden!” someone shouted. As though they were one creature, the guilds of Arden turned to face the forgotten garden, where a figure galloped toward them.
The rider wore silks of midnight navy, her skirts a billowing ocean over her horse’s hide, white as sea-foam. For a second, Claire wondered how she could see the colors so well with the sun already set, but then she realized that the rider and horse racing toward them carried their own light: a clear diamond glow that emanated from the spiraling horn between the horse’s ears.
Between the unicorn’s ears.
Queen Estelle d’Astora had arrived.
CHAPTER
20
At first, Claire thought the roar she heard was simply the rush of blood in her ears. But even though she took deep breaths, the sound would not clear. Instead, it only got sharper until she realized what it was: an entire nation cheering.
An entire world celebrating. Crying. Laughing. Rejoicing.
An entire world—except for Claire and Sena.
Sena’s fingernails sank into Claire’s arm, and Claire was glad for the pain that cut through her dizziness. What was happening? Sophie had said the unicorn was captured, but Claire couldn’t see any chains around the creature. And when the queen galloped down the aisle and dismounted at the front, the unicorn stayed put, as quiet and calm as a trained dog, while the crowd’s euphoria rose higher and higher.
Starfell ribbons lay forgotten on the ground as Spinners hugged one another. A Tiller father wiped at the corner of his eye before scooping his daughter onto his shoulders so she could see. Even the Forgers, who seemed more stunned than pleased, had left their weapons dangling harmlessly at their sides, their expressions hungry with hope. And from everywhere and everyone, Claire heard the same words repeating again and again and again: “the unicorn.”
The unicorn.
The unicorn!
Claire looked at Sena, and the Forger’s amber eyes were so round, she looked more owl than girl. Her lips moved, but Claire couldn’t make out what she was saying until Sena leaned in and choked out, “How?”
Claire did not know. She did not know how the last unicorn had come to the queen. Or why he would allow the murderer of his herd on his back. Unless …
Unless Claire had gotten it wrong.
Come on, Sophie’s voice groaned in her head. You know what you heard in the Petrified Forest. Estelle told you herself that the only useful unicorn is a dead unicorn. Trust yourself!
Estelle stood before the cheering crowd, letting their joy wash over her. Her gown, encrusted with blue sapphires so dark they were almost black, glittered in the torchlight. Her dark curls had been swept into a silver net, but her head was empty of a crown. She expected a coronation.
The queen held out her hand, and Jasper strode across the dais, his spear in one hand and a cane with a ram’s head handle held in the other. Grandmaster Carnelian of Stonehaven’s old cane. He presented it to Estelle with a flourish, and when she accepted it, he bowed low, once to her and once to the tranquil unicorn. Claire’s thoughts continued to race, trying to find a reason—any reason—the unicorn would ally with Estelle, and she finally landed on “Mesmerization,” which she whispered to Sena. “Like how Estelle tricked all of Stonehaven.”
Sena grimaced. Unicorns were creatures of pure magic. If Estelle was so powerful that she could manage to bend even a unicorn to her will, then what chance did Claire, her friends, and Nadia have against Estelle? The only thing that slightly comforted Claire was the fact that the Spyden had said—
Claire breathed in sharply. The Spyden had said that only a queen can defeat a queen … not that she would.
“We need to break Estelle’s control,” Sena said harshly, unaware of the storm in Claire’s mind. “How does she do it?”
“With—with a Mesmerization Opal,” Claire said. “She’s probably wearing one.”
“Then, we need to get closer.” Without waiting for Claire’s ag
reement, Sena threw herself into the crowd, carving a path with her pointy elbows. But they weren’t the only ones trying to reach the front. The crowd pressed forward, wanting to be closer to the promised queen. Closer to the unicorn. A chant broke out around them, swelling like a wave that would never break: “Long live the queen! Long live the queen!”
Finally, when Claire thought that the frenzied excitement of the crowd might crush her, Estelle raised her hands. Her sleeves fell back to reveal pale wrists, and the entire cheering crowd immediately fell silent. At last, Estelle d’Astora addressed her court for the first time in three hundred years: “Welcome.”
The single word hit Claire like an arrow, and she stumbled to a halt. Until now, Estelle had been far enough away that she could have been a stranger. But when the queen spoke, her voice, magically amplified, was both familiar and comforting. It sounded of sing-alongs in Starscrape Citadel, encouragement next to a crackling fire, and a warm chuckle when Claire had finally made a ruby spark. It was Scholar Terra’s voice that resounded over Hilltop Palace.
“Welcome, Forgers; welcome, Tillers; welcome, Spinners; and welcome, Gemmers. Welcome,” Estelle said, opening her arms to the crowd, “my dearest Royalists, who have never lost faith, and to all of my beloved Arden.”
The crowd roared again, and the sound jolted Claire from her daze. She looked around for Sena—but the crowd had swallowed her whole. Claire was alone in a sea of hundreds that kept pushing forward, sweeping her nearer and nearer the unicorn and the queen, who had started to speak again.
“You know me, Arden, though we have never met,” Estelle proclaimed. “You’ve spoken of me, sung of me, waited for me: the last queen of Arden who used the final drop of her power to spare Arden’s last unicorn for a time when the world was ready. For a time of change. That time has come.”
The crowd stayed quiet, breathless with excitement, loath to miss anything the queen might say.
“Tonight,” Estelle repeated, raising the ram cane like a royal scepter, “I come to you not as a legend from another age but as a leader for this one. Tonight, the Crown of Arden will again be remade, and a new era shall begin. One of infinite possibilities, of wonder, of magic”—she placed her hand on the gleaming arched neck—“of unicorns!”
At that, the crowd thundered so loudly, Claire could feel the timbre of it in her bones. Spinners flung their ribbons into the sky while the night air burst with the scent of lilies and jasmine, roses and hyacinths. Spring flowers that shouldn’t have been anywhere close to bloom. Even the Forgers rattled their shields in anticipation. With each new cheer, Claire felt their chances of persuading the Forgers to give them their tine slip away.
Where was Nett? And Sena? And Thorn?
Where is Sophie?
Claire stumbled forward. Only a single regiment of Forgers stood between her and the unicorn now, but they were trained soldiers, and there were no gaps between their shields to let Claire wiggle by. She would need to backtrack. Turning, she tried to slide through the crowd, using her shoulder to push.
Meanwhile, Estelle nodded at Fray, who stepped forward, the unicorn’s horn casting a radiant glow on the old woman’s face, but there was nothing that could take away the cruel, proud lines etched around her mouth. In her hands she held a pillow, on which sat a black arc: the Love Knot Tine. From where she stood, Claire could not tell if it was the fake tine Thorn had delivered or the true Spinners’ tine. Either way, Fray placed it on a broken, waist-high pillar near the queen.
Another Royalist Claire didn’t recognize stepped forward. He wore boots of birch bark and beneath his cloak, she could make out a tunic outlined by thorns. Excitement rustled through the Tillers in the crowd as the man, too, presented a cushion with another gleaming arc: the Oak Leaf Tine. It, too, was placed on the pillar.
Finally, Jasper stepped forward and added the Stone Tine to the collection.
At least two, and possibly three of the crown’s four tines were within arm’s reach of Estelle. She lacked only the Hammer Tine.
Claire’s heart pounded. She needed to get to the front! She needed to break whatever Gemmer enchantment hobbled the unicorn.
“My dear Tillers and sweet Spinners, I thank you for your promised allegiance,” Estelle said as Claire pushed her way forward. “And now our friends the Forgers shall unite the tines at last, and with the crown’s new power, I shall be able to rid Arden of the wraiths—forever!”
The crowd let out a cheer again, but Claire noticed the Forgers remained quiet. They shifted slightly to reveal a man with a round girth and no-nonsense blond cut. He looked so similar to General Scorcha that Claire knew this Forger had to be related.
“Grandmaster Bolt,” Estelle said, extending her hand as if she expected it to be kissed. “I am grateful for your allegiance.”
“It’s a bit early for that.” Grandmaster Bolt snorted. “Before we pledge anything or crown anyone, the Forgers have questions—”
“Grandmaster Bolt,” Fray cut in, her voice cool, “you see the unicorn, do you not? Each moment you delay, another wraith could attack an innocent!”
“And another Forger’s blood could be turned to stone!” Grandmaster Bolt said firmly. He looked at Estelle, his gaze steady above his rather spectacular mustache, which made him look slightly like an armored walrus.
“We concede that you do appear to be the last queen of Arden, who ruled hundreds of years ago. However, for the last month, people of all guilds have been discovered frozen in their homes and in their fields, their blood turned to rubies by a rogue Gemmer. If that is not you, madame, then, who is it?”
There was a murmur of assent from the Forgers behind him. The grandmaster continued. “The Forger guild was not treated well by your family in the past, and now the Gemmers are again terrorizing us? Why should we trust you? Why should we give you the Forgers’ Tine?”
Fray opened her mouth in anger, her lips contorted in fury, but Estelle held up her hand, silencing the old historian. “I planned for this to be my token of appreciation, but instead, I’ll make it my promise to you.” She clapped her hands. “Bring out Claire Martinson!”
What? Claire whirled around, expecting to find a cohort of Royalists standing right behind her. Instead, there was only a cluster of Tillers, each one eager and expectant as they kept their eyes forward. Claire turned back just in time to see Thorn Barley, golden circlet gleaming, emerge from the darkened side of the dais. One fist was held over his heart, but the other held the end of a chain.
Claire choked on a scream. Tears—hot and furious—stormed her eyes as she realized who was on the other end of the chain: Sophie.
Thorn tugged, and Sophie stumbled. A white strip of cloth had been tied over her mouth, but the glare she threw at Estelle was as clear as a shout. She loathed her. And something had been done to Sophie’s hair. Her ponytail no longer fell in an inky slick but poofed out, as though it had been curled to look like—
“This is Claire Martinson,” Estelle lied to the crowd as she gestured to Sophie. The blue sapphires of the queen’s dress caught the glow of the torchlight, giving each jewel an orange pupil that seemed to watch the courtyard hungrily.
“Don’t be fooled by her youthful appearance. This Gemmer apprentice is a friend to the dangerous exile Sena Steele. She helped take the Unicorn Harp from the Tillers, and then, just a few days ago, she attempted to steal the Love Knot Tine. And just tonight, she almost succeeded in snatching these.”
Estelle reached for the neckline of her dress and pulled out a chain. Four stones gleamed like stars caught on a hook: the moontears—the Great Unicorn Treasure, Arden’s hope—dangled helplessly in the queen’s ring-covered hands.
Murmurs broke out as the crowd realized what they were looking at. Some dropped to their knees, overcome, while others shouted angrily at Sophie, furious that she would attempt something so heinous.
“Fortunately for Arden,” Estelle said, tucking the moontears back under her neckline, “our beloved Prince Thorn caugh
t her in the act and brought her to me!”
Claire told herself to breathe. Thorn had to be pretending to be on Estelle’s side … right?
Then Thorn stepped back … and bowed low to Estelle.
For the second time that night, Claire thought she was going to throw up. And for a second time since she’d come to Arden, she knew she’d been a fool to trust Thorn Barley.
“Claire Martinson is responsible for the attacks on non-Gemmers!” Estelle lied easily. “And though she is of my guild, I vow this very moment that I shall never put Gemmers above any others. Grandmaster Jasper?”
Estelle beckoned Jasper to come toward her. Before he did, though, he checked the chains on Sophie’s wrists. Claire expected Sophie to struggle, but instead she seemed to hardly notice him. All her attention was on the unicorn. The unicorn that stood still—and did nothing.
As soon as Jasper turned away from her, Sophie tilted her head and widened her eyes in a very familiar Look. It was the very same Look Sophie gave when she was trying to tell Claire something without Mom and Dad knowing. But now, she wasn’t staring at Claire but across the dais, toward Thorn. Then, so quickly that Claire thought she might have made it up, Sophie nodded. A signal?
Before Claire could figure it out, Estelle had slipped a knife out from the ram’s head cane. A long knife.
A carving knife.
“Kneel,” Estelle commanded, and Sophie was pushed to her knees before the queen. Placing long gloved fingers under Sophie’s chin, Estelle forced Sophie’s face upward, exposing her neck and the bit of collarbone that bore a pale-pink star where the unicorn had touched her, just above her heart.
She needs a unicorn’s heart, Thorn had told her. And now she would take it.
As Estelle raised the knife, Claire’s breath caught. The queen’s plan was as brilliant as it was cruel. Estelle would murder Sophie, right here, in front of everyone, blaming Sophie-as-Claire for the queen’s own crimes while taking the unicorn heart she wanted—and still seeming to be the heroine of lore.
Fire in the Star Page 17
