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The grifflet’s feathers went rigid. “But—!”

“You’re my friend, not Brier’s. You’d give us away.”

Thorn looked away before she could see Mazby’s feathers droop.

Downstairs, she took a deep breath and opened the door. She nodded primly at the guards and made straight for the entrance to their father’s garden. She ignored Bartos’s wide eyes. He would know at once, of course, that she wasn’t Brier. She held her breath, waiting for him to tell the others.

But he stayed silent.

Noro emerged from the gardens, his midnight-blue gaze steady and cautious, and Thorn had to concentrate on climbing onto his back without showing the truth—that she wasn’t used to riding a unicorn, and ithurt.

I am not yours,Noro’s entire body seemed to say. This wasn’t like riding Noro alongside Brier; this was different. This wastrespassing.

As Noro had told them, on days when he could bear to speak of it, there were still some faint traces of the Old Wild floating through the world. Once a unicorn had been bound to its rider, there could be no other without consequence. Petting was one thing; riding was quite another. Someday, maybe, as the Old Wild continued to fade, anyone would be able to ride any unicorn they pleased. Noro would be as tame and gentle as a farmer’s old horse.

But that had not yet happened, so Thorn gritted her teeth, settling as carefully as she could onto Noro’s back without letting her discomfort show. Her legs, her fingers, her feet—every part of her that touched Noro felt scorched, as if she’d brushed against a hot oven and couldn’t move away from it. Instead she had to keep her hands to the flame.

And keep Brier’s smile on her face.

Be. Brier.

“All right, then.” She ducked underneath the wisteria blossoms as she and Noro left the garden. “To the queen?”

Bartos, standing behind the other guards, shook his head, his eyes wide.

What are you doing?his expression seemed to say.This is madness!

But Thorn ignored him.

The captain of the guard once again raised his eyebrow. “To the queen,” he agreed.

Thorn was not used to telling lies this big. As she followed the captain’s horse, a chill crawled up her spine and burrowed into the curve of her skull.

Was this an awful mistake?

.7.

The Metal-Plated Girl

As Thorn watched Queen Celestyna walk into her throne room with Princess Orelia at her side, every bone and muscle and speck of whooshing, pounding blood in her body turned to cold iron.

Her thoughts were a jumble, each one screaming that she should run. Brier was right. How could Thorn pretend to be someone she so utterly wasn’t?

Beside her, Noro shifted. Even he seemed nervous. It was unusual for a unicorn to enter the queen’s castle. But this was an unusual day.

Thorn reminded herself to take slow, even breaths.

Pay attention. Be Brier.

In front of Thorn: the polished marble dais that held the queen’s white throne. Behind Thorn: the five guards, including Bartos, who stood tense and frowning. Thorn knew that look; she had seen it when Bartos and her father fussed over sick plants in the garden at home.

Bartos was worried.

The queen settled on her throne. The pale gray and pink folds of her gown floated like clouds about her legs. Princess Orelia fidgeted beside her. Standing in little clumps around the room, the queen’s advisers and courtiers fell silent.

“You are Brier Skystone?” The queen’s voice was clear and cold.

Brier would not be afraid to speak. Thorn nodded. “I am, Your Majesty.”