“Must continue,” Jamison gasped after giving them only a brief moment to rest. “The strenuous part is behind us.”

As they traversed the palace grounds, Chelsea eyed the broken statues and crumbling wall. “Don’t they fix anything?” she whispered to Laurel.

“Sometimes retaining an item’s natural power is more important than keeping up its outer appearance,” Jamison said over his shoulder.

Chelsea’s eyes widened – she had spoken so softly even Laurel had scarcely been able to hear her – but she said nothing more as they mounted the steps and pushed open the great front doors.

The palace was silent but for the footsteps of the small party; the white-uniformed staff were nowhere to be seen. Had they already received word of the attack? Laurel hoped they would be safe, wherever they had gone, but she had begun to wonder if “safe” was an option any of them had left.

Jamison was already climbing the enormous stairs that led to the upper rooms. “Please, follow me,” he said, without looking back. He gave a small wave of his hands and the doors at the top swung slowly open. Even though she knew it was coming, the ripple of power that went through Laurel as she stepped through the gilded doors made her breath catch. Chelsea reached out and squeezed Laurel’s arm, and Laurel knew her friend felt it too.

“We are not running away,” Jamison said abruptly. “I suspect you are all wondering it.”

Laurel felt a little guilty, but it was true.

“As soon as we have finished here, we will return and we will stand together. But this must be done first, and I alone can do it. Come.”

At the end of the long silk carpet, they followed Jamison to the left and stood in front of a wall. But this wall, Laurel knew, could move – and it concealed a marble archway into a room with something Jamison had once called an old problem.

Jamison looked up at David, who had at least fifteen centimetres on the wizened Winter faerie. “Tell me, David, what do you know of King Arthur?”

David looked over at Tamani, who nodded once. “He was the king of Camelot. He allied with you guys.”

“That is true,” Jamison said, clearly pleased David knew the fae version of the tale. “What else?”

“He was married to Guinevere – a Spring faerie – and when the trolls invaded Avalon, he fought alongside Merlin and Oberon.”

“Indeed. But he was much more to us than a strong fighter with an army of brave knights. He brought to the Seelie Court one thing it could never furnish for itself: humanity.” Jamison turned and, with a wave of his arms, split the enormous stone wall down the middle. Vines slithered forth from the crack, curling around the faces of the rocks and dragging the two walls apart with a low rumble. “You see, in spite of his magician and his dealings with the fae, King Arthur was entirely human. And that was something we needed very badly.”

As the walls parted, light streamed through a marble arch and into a stone chamber, illuminating a squat block of granite. Wedged into the granite was a sword that looked like it had been forged from solid diamond, its prismatic edges casting rainbows across the white marble chamber.

King Arthur, the blade of the sword wedged in stone.

“Excalibur!” Laurel whispered, understanding.

“Indeed,” Jamison said, his voice low and hallowed. “Though it was called something else, in those days. But here it is, and here it has been, untouched since King Arthur himself drove it into this rock after his victory against the trolls.”

“Untouched? But I saw you doing something with it when I was here last time,” Laurel said.

“I was trying, as I have my entire life. I cannot seem to leave it alone,” Jamison replied. “Excalibur is a unique combination of human and faerie magics, forged by Oberon and Merlin to seal the alliance with Camelot and ensure victory against the trolls. Its wielder is untouchable in combat and its blade will cut effortlessly through almost any target. But Oberon also sought to protect his people against a day when the sword might fall into the wrong hands: It cannot be used to harm fae. One could swing Excalibur at a faerie with all his might, and it would simply stop, a breath away.”

“How?” David asked. “I mean, the momentum has to go somewhere, doesn’t it?”

Trust David to bring science into it.

“Would that I could answer that,” Jamison replied. “I cannot say whether Oberon intended to do precisely what he did, but I can assure you that the prohibition is absolute. No part of the sword can touch a faerie – and no faerie can touch any part of the sword. I cannot even manipulate it with my magic.”

That’s why you let David and Chelsea in, Laurel realised. Jamison’s glance back into Avalon, his talk of destiny . . . he had shared last summer that the World Tree told him of a task he alone could perform. Only Jamison would be willing to place the fate of their land back in human hands, as it had been in Arthur’s day.

“David Lawson,” Jamison said, “Avalon needs your help. Not only are you human – with the ability to wield the sword – but I can sense your bravery, your strength, and especially, your loyalty. I know what you have done for Laurel in your world; standing by her when it meant risking your life. Even entering Avalon today took great courage. I suspect you have much in common with that young man Arthur, and I believe it is your destiny to save us all.”

Chelsea was soaking up the scene with eager eyes.

Tamani looked horrified.