Claire pulled her gaze away from Terra and looked again at the flute before her with fresh wonder. Her hands had gone clammy, and nervousness buzzed through her whole body. Again, she scanned the crowd for Sophie’s face. Why wasn’t she here?
“Jubilant, the king ran through the halls, searching for his daughter,” Terra went on. “He followed the song to the kitchen garden, where he heard a young serving boy playing his daughter’s flute—and a unicorn was standing there, listening. A unicorn who, he was told, had his daughter’s wish-filled eyes.”
Terra closed the book, clearly reciting the rest from memory. “The king adopted the boy and made him his heir. And ever since that day, the flute would be silent for all but Arden’s heir. And if the heir so chose to play upon it, a unicorn would always arrive to give counsel.”
Terra bowed her head, as if giving the story a chance to circle three times, then burrow into listeners’ hearts. Taking advantage of the silence, Claire glanced at the flute. Where the sun hit it, tiny rainbows danced just beneath its surface. She wondered if that was what magic looked like, if one could see it. Something vibrant and bright just below the surface of things. Maybe her Gemmer abilities had always lingered within her, even in Windemere, hiding like these tiny rainbows until just the right time or angle of sun.
Then Terra stepped away, and all attention turned back to Grandmaster Carnelian. He leaned so heavily upon his cane that Claire worried that it might snap beneath his weight. But when he spoke, his voice was strong. “Claire Martinson, know that if you deceive us now, your life and your sister’s will be at peril, and you will be tried for the destruction of Unicorn Rock and Queen Rock. You claim to be a descendant of Prince Martin d’Astora, yes?”
Claire swallowed, then nodded.
“Claire Martinson, you claim to be Prince Martin’s oldest descendant with Gemmer blood, yes?”
Again, Claire nodded, but this time she had to bite her lip from crying out, Sophie’s the oldest! She should be heir! She scanned the crowd frantically but still there was no Sophie. She was scared and hurt—no matter how bad their fights had been in the past, the sisters always forgave each other. Why hadn’t Sophie come?
Carnelian fixed his eyes on her. Without blinking, he asked the final question, “Claire Martinson, you claim to be the one true princess to inherit all of Arden, yes?”
The word on the tip of Claire’s tongue was small, no larger than a pebble. But even a pebble could be the base of a mountain.
She squared her shoulders and took a breath. After all, there was no going back now. “Yes,” Claire said. Though her voice was barely above a whisper, it ricocheted off the amber walls, repeating endlessly, as if she were saying yes for each and every person gathered in front of her.
Inclining his head ever so slightly, Carnelian waved Claire forward. She saw now that in his other hand was a small glass box—and inside that box was Sophie’s moontear necklace. “Then we, the people of Stonehaven, invite you to sound the crystal flute and call a unicorn into Stonehaven.”
Claire blinked in surprise. “Is that all? But what … what about the moontear necklace?”
Carnelian’s lips pursed. “As Terra has likely explained to you, a unicorn is likely required in order to help birth more unicorns. If our theory is correct, and the moontears are like eggs, then it is the unicorn, and not the princess, who must awaken them. And if what you told us is true, there’s still one last unicorn out there in Arden, and he is our final hope.”
Claire swallowed hard. Carnelian’s face was stern. Did he truly believe what she’d told them? That the pink star-shaped scar on Sophie’s collarbone had come from when a unicorn’s horn had saved Claire’s sister from dying?
Either way, this test would prove that she’d been telling the truth.
It had to work.
The unicorn she’d awoken from rock—the last unicorn in Arden—had to come to her. This was the only way. She’d tried everything else. She had to be right. Because if she wasn’t …
No, she couldn’t think about that now.
Taking a step toward the pedestal, Claire noticed a hum in the room. Not the hum she felt when she crafted magic, but an energy that seemed to pass from Gemmer to Gemmer as they looked at the flute in anticipation. It was the hum of hope.
Inspiration. Dedication. Courage. The rules of magic popped into Claire’s head before she took the flute with both hands. It was as cool as creek water and as smooth as a sea-worn shell. Her fingers slid easily into the holes, as if the flute had been carved for her. A trill of anticipation sang through her veins. She looked at Terra, who nodded encouragingly.
Patterns form and stories repeat.
She recalled once again the breathtaking beauty of the unicorn she’d seen on the Sorrowful Plains, when it had emerged in a flame of white light from stone. She’d never before witnessed anything so glorious—the sight of it had moved through her like a song, like the clearest form of joy she knew.
Claire held the flute to her lips.
There was no question about it now; the excitement in the room was palpable. In the amber light, the edges of the flute glittered like a comet’s tail, as if it, too, had been dragged through the night sky, collecting moonbeams and starlight.
Taking a breath, Claire closed her eyes … and blew.
In her exhale, she felt something rush from within her and into the flute: something wild, unknown, and untamed. Something like hope. Something like a unicorn. She wanted to cry from the sheer happiness of that feeling, the purity of it, the wonder.
But the crystal flute stayed silent.
Claire gasped for breath, her lungs empty. The Citadel remained
quiet,
quiet,
quiet.
Gripping the flute tighter, Claire blew again, harder, too. But not a sound—not even the dream of a whisper—leaked out. She blew again, pushing air out until she felt heat rise in her cheeks, until she felt dizzy, pulled under and drowning in disappointment.
A loud drumming pounded in her ears, and for a second, Claire thought it was the sound of a hundred feet stomping toward her. Then she realized—it was the sound of her panicked heart.
What had she done wrong?
Instinctively, Claire looked back at the door, and there, in that very moment, Sophie burst through. She was wearing a flowing, pale purple gown. Her hair, for once, was down, held back from her head with a headband and sheer veil.
Her sister took in what was happening and her hands immediately covered her face. She’d come at last, just in time to witness Claire’s utter disgrace.
Claire had failed.
There was no unicorn.
She could feel the incredible disappointment of the room, the shuffle of restless feet like a roll of thunder.
“But Grandmaster, I felt the magic!” Claire blurted out as she whirled to face Carnelian, his face as impassive as a lake. “What … what does it mean?”
She looked wildly into the crowd. Where was the unicorn? All she could make out were faces both mournful and furious. Amid them, she spotted Lapis and Zuli, who looked back at Claire with pity in their eyes. Carnelian shook his head, and from somewhere near the front, Claire heard weeping.
Master Jasper strode down the aisle, his obsidian spear glittering like an eye. When he reached the dais, he lowered its point and aimed it at her chest.
“It means,” Jasper said, splitting the silence into halves as easily as a foreman breaks a rock, “that you are not a princess. And that you have lied.”
Sophie darted toward Claire, wrapping her arms around her sister protectively. “It’s okay,” she whispered into Claire’s ear.
But it wasn’t.
“Imposters, just as I thought.” Jasper banged the butt of his spear against the floor. “Wraith Watch, seize them!”
CHAPTER
13
Not a princess. Not a princess.
Jasper’s proclamation rolled over Claire again and again, like waves pushing he
r under. And just as relentless was the Wraith Watch itself, their black spears surging toward her and Sophie.
Claire’s throat felt coated in peanut butter. She couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t run. She could barely get her eyes to blink.
“Stop! Where will you take them?” Lapis asked, stepping forward from the crowd.
Immediately, Zuli reached out and pulled Lapis back, out of the way. But the grandmaster had heard him. He turned toward Claire and Sophie. The look on his face—part anger, part disgust, tinted by disappointment—made Claire recoil.
“They will stay in the prisoners’ tower,” Grandmaster Carnelian ordered, loudly enough for all to hear. “To ensure the safety of all Gemmers.”
The guards prodded Claire and Sophie down the aisle, the crowd splitting. For the second time in a single day, Sophie and Claire were marched past their bedroom door and up—up to the highest point of the Citadel. This time, no one was coming to rescue them.
The guards pushed the girls in, Claire stumbling a bit on the uneven flagstones. It was dark in the tower, with only a slice of light coming in through the small slit window on the wall and the tiny open square on the door. A horrible screech reverberated as the door’s window slid shut.
Silence filled the small cell. A suffocating silence that filled Claire’s ears, eyes, nose, and mouth the way darkness fills a room.
“Claire?” Sophie’s voice reached out to her in the dark. A moment later, she felt her sister’s hand on her back. “What … what happened?”
“I don’t know.” Claire shook her head helplessly. She pulled her knees up to her chest and let her head sink on them. “I thought I was the princess … I thought I woke the unicorn from Unicorn Rock, but maybe … Maybe it didn’t happen like that after all.”
“What do you mean?” Sophie asked, and though Claire could only see the outline of her body in the darkness, she could tell her sister was listening intently.
“I mean,” Claire said in a rush, “I was scared! The Royalists were there, you were bleeding everywhere, and the wraiths—when they come near you, it feels like they freeze your body, but not just your body. Every part of you: thoughts, secrets, you—your soul. What if … what if they froze my mind and I made the whole thing up? What if it was just a nightmare I dreamed?”
She hugged her knees to her chest harder. The deep fear that had been needling her since her failed Gemmer classes twisted into her even deeper. Had she let the idea of being a princess, of being special, get the better of her?
“Oof!” Something hard poked between Claire’s ribs, making her uncurl. “Hey!’
“You’re feeling sorry for yourself, Clairina, and I’m not going to put up with it.” Sophie’s hands grabbed for Claire’s wrists, and Claire felt herself being yanked to her feet.
“If you start doubting yourself, then all really will be lost. Now let’s go over what we know.”
In the dim light, Claire could just make out Sophie holding up her finger. “First, we know you woke a unicorn from the stone. That’s a fact. Unicorn Rock was there and then it was gone. The only explanation is the one we know is true.” She held up another finger. “Second, you definitely talked to—rode on—a wyvern. Third, you’ve drawn pictures that come alive. Fourth, you made those gems glow.”
“Not very brightly,” Claire said miserably. “And I exploded my Grail.”
Sophie shrugged. “I think you’re definitely a Gemmer, Claire, and a very powerful one at that. That’s probably why your projects keep blowing up. You’re too powerful.”
Claire shook her head. “I don’t know. I’m so confused. Even if that’s true, I still failed the test. I’m not Arden’s heir. I can’t call the unicorn, which means we still can’t wake the moontears. So it’s all for nothing, isn’t it?”
Sophie shrugged. “Maybe, but the least you could do is give us a little light in here.” She nudged Claire.
Claire tried to huff out a small laugh, but there was no heart in it. Still, Sophie had a point. With the silk of her long sleeve, Claire began to polish the face of a sapphire facet on her dress-skirt. Almost immediately, she felt a tingle in her fingers, and a hum in her bones that echoed the tiny song of the sapphire’s crystalline structures. A true smile lit her face as light flowed out of the stone.
“Wow,” Sophie breathed. “See? That makes things much better.” The light that spilled from the sapphire was clear and soft, and now Claire could see her sister, still in the pale purple gown embroidered with silver leaves, as well as the rest of their tiny stone cell.
A thin straw pallet was in one corner, and a wooden bucket in the other. The rock walls were bare, and as she took them in, Claire’s heart sank even further. There was not an opening to be seen—not a mouse hole, not even a hairline crack except for where the door was locked shut. Without some Gemmer tools, there was no way they’d be able to break out of here.
She groaned softly. The light, instead of making her feel better, had only revealed how bad their situation really was.
“Hey.” Sophie reached out and touched Claire’s shoulder. “It could be worse. They didn’t put us outside the walls for the wraiths. I bet Anvil will hear about it and come for us. Maybe Aquila has already found the unicorn, and that’s why it didn’t show up when you called!”
Claire nodded. Not because she believed Sophie, because she didn’t. But she also knew that Sophie still thought it was her job to take care of Claire, just as it was Claire’s job to take care of Sophie.
“I bet you’re right,” she said, going over to sit on the pallet.
Sophie nodded. “I know I am.”
Hours later, Claire was woken by the screech of the door’s window opening again. There was a muffled thud of something hitting the ground, and then the window clanged shut again. Quickly, Claire repolished the sapphire as Sophie walked over to the little cloth parcel that had just appeared.
“Sandwiches,” she said, handing one to Claire. “Goat cheese and goat meat and … some sort of green stuff.”
Claire sat down next to Sophie and took a bite of her sandwich. The bread was only a little dry. Next to her, Sophie carefully smoothed out the napkin the sandwiches had been wrapped in and laid it out on the floor. Then, she proceeded to carefully unmake her sandwich. For some reason that always drove Mom crazy, Sophie liked all the parts of a sandwich; she just didn’t like when they were all stacked together.
“Claire!” Sophie said suddenly. “What do you think this is?” She pointed at a stain on the napkin. No, not a stain. Claire held up the sapphire and gasped. Drawn onto the napkin, in the same chalk the apprentices used on their slates, Claire could make out thin lines that looked like …
“It’s a map of the Citadel!” Sophie said triumphantly. “And it seems that there’s a passage that leads right out of this cell.” She tapped a line. Sure enough, two doors were marked on their tower cell. Dash marks led from their cell, and through the walls to what looked like the kitchen cellars. “It’s a way out!”
“But who drew this?” Claire demanded. “Who’d help us? It could be a trap.”
“Look, there’s something else scribbled here …” Sophie pointed at the corner of the map.
Claire took it up and peered closely. “It’s an L and a Z. For … Lapis and Zuli!” An image of the twins’ bright expressions when Claire had sat beside them during the sing-along flashed through her mind. Gemmers, Claire had heard before, were loyal to the point of stubborn. She wasn’t entirely sure what she’d done to gain their friendship, but she was grateful for it.
Looking back up, Claire saw Sophie had already lunged to her feet and had started tapping the stone blocks.
“I think we can trust them,” Claire said. “They were always nice to me in class …”
“Good. Because we either stay here, caught, or we go out and risk being caught. There’s not really a choice, is there?”
“What are you doing?” Claire asked, ignoring her question.
“Looking for the
secret tunnel’s entrance,” Sophie said. “This is what they do in the movies. If there’s a passageway behind it, it’ll sound hollow.”
“You’re not going to hear if something is hollow behind rock,” Claire pointed out.
Sophie’s fist froze midair. “Then you try something!” she snapped. “We don’t know how much time we have before Jasper returns. We need to get out of here.”
Looking around, Claire’s stomach twisted. There were so many rocks—how would they figure out where to look? She glanced down at the cloth map again. There didn’t seem to be any clue as to how to get out of the tower in the first place. Squinting at the cloth, Claire wondered if the napkin was a map at all. Maybe they wanted to see a map so badly that they’d used their imaginations to make the lines add up to something greater than they were. Maybe it was just that—some lines.
Some lines.
“Hang on,” Claire said, standing and extinguishing the sapphire. “I have an idea.”
“What are you doing?”
“Give me a second,” Claire replied, running her hands along the mortar, tracing it up and over. Good. The paste holding the blocks together was a form of stone, too. Gemmer magic controlled all types of stone. And the cement was all connected, creating one single grid along the walls. Taking the napkin, Claire began to polish.
It wasn’t as easy to call light from the mortar as it was from the diamond or even the sapphire. The mortar needed to be coaxed and reminded of the time that it had once been sand and lime and water all mixed together—before it had hardened.
Slowly, a faint glow, barely as bright as a birthday candle, began to follow the path of the mortar, outlining every single block and flagstone.
“I don’t get it,” Sophie said, coming to stand behind Claire. “What are you doing?”
“Mortar glues all the rocks together,” Claire explained, still rubbing the napkin over the walls. Her arms were getting sore and her fingers felt like they were falling asleep. Still, she kept polishing the walls and floor. “If there is a secret door, though, that won’t be glued down to others, would it? It would be fitted in tightly, but there would be no mortar outline. So I’m looking for a big stone with none of these lines around it.”
Secret in the Stone Page 9
