The trolls, seeing a moment of weakness, surged forward. If they somehow managed to pile on him . . .

“Pull!” Laurel screamed the instant David was ready.

As the sheet-rope went taut, David clung crazily to it, defending not himself but his tenuous escape line.

“We’ve got him!” Laurel called.

Several howling trolls made grabs at David’s legs; each time they did they slid away, unable to touch him. One of them finally got smart and, just before David was out of reach, it jumped up and grabbed the sheet and began swinging its club at David.

The weapon couldn’t hurt David, but it knocked him off balance and threatened his grip. David tried to swing Excalibur at the troll, but he was exhausted and at a bad angle. Laurel could see his white knuckles, the strain in his face as he worked to keep hold of the sheet and Excalibur both. The possibility that David would ever drop the sword had seemed remote, but now it was the thing Laurel feared most. Without Excalibur, David was as good as dead.

Abruptly, the troll released its hold on the sheet, dropped to the ground in a heap, and lay motionless where it fell.

There was no time for Laurel to question this; with more than half of the weight suddenly gone, David practically flew to the railing.

Tamani let go of the rope with one hand and leaned forwards to extend the other to David. But their hands met and then slid away, and David fell back.

David took two breaths, then looked up and swung the sword, releasing it into the air. Laurel heard it clatter against the balcony floor behind her as she reached out to grasp his arm, her hands making contact this time. Tamani had a firm grip on his other arm and together they pulled David up and over the edge of the railing, all three sprawling onto the cool stone.

They lay panting on the balcony floor a moment before David reached instinctively for the fallen sword and pulled it close, cradling it against his chest. As he turned his face to Laurel, she almost didn’t recognise him. Blood-striped sweat streaked from his temples to his chin, and his arms were stained a rusty red. The rest of him was a patternless mess of gore.

“Are you all right?” she asked, pushing up off of her stomach as Chelsea dropped to her knees beside David.

“Tired,” he rasped. “I need some water. And rest,” he added. “I have to rest.”

“Is there some place we can take him?” Tamani asked, turning to Katya as the other faeries resumed barraging the trolls from above.

“The dining hall,” Katya said. “They’ve brought some medical supplies in there for . . . for the faeries the trolls got earlier,” she finished, her lashes lowered.

“I’ll take them,” Laurel said, rising to her feet and helping Chelsea up too. They looked down at David, who had pushed himself up to his knees. He looked too tired to stand on his own, but he was clinging to the sword and neither Chelsea nor Laurel could do anything for him while he held it.

Chelsea leaned close, just a hairsbreadth away from his ear. “David,” she said softly. “Let me carry it for you.”

David blinked at her as though she were speaking a foreign language. Then comprehension dawned. “Thank you,” he whispered, laying the sword down on the floor between them.

Wrapping both hands around the hilt, Chelsea reverently took Excalibur and held it close as Laurel and Tamani helped David stand.

Laurel kept a hand on David’s arm and led him towards the stairs as an Autumn faerie emerged bearing a tray of beakers filled with steaming chartreuse – a solution Laurel recognised as an acid derived from fermented limes. “Let’s get you cleaned up,” she said, pulling David round to put his back to the fighting.

“Do we have time for that?” David asked, his voice weak as he followed her through the doorway off the balcony. “They just keep coming – we’ve got to get Yeardley to Jamison.”

“Let’s think about that later,” Laurel said, casting a concerned glance at Chelsea. It was easy to feel safe barricaded inside the huge stone Academy, but how much longer could they last?

The three of them descended the staircase slowly and Laurel paused at the bottom when she realised Tamani wasn’t with them. He was still standing at the top step, one arm resting on the banister. His shoulders were slumped and he was clutching at the injury on his shoulder that he had refused to let her see at his mother’s house. He seemed to be allowing himself a moment to feel the weariness and pain he’d been pushing aside all day. His eyes were closed and Laurel turned away before he could discover he’d been seen in such a vulnerable moment. She was glad to hear his footsteps catching up with them a few moments later.

“David,” Chelsea asked haltingly, “are you—”

“Man, that thing is heavy,” David said, cutting off her question as he stretched out his weary arms, flexing his wrists one at a time.

Laurel bit her lip and when Chelsea turned to look at her, she shook her head. Now wasn’t the time for questions.

As they entered the dining hall they bumped into a faerie carrying masses of white cloth.

“Watch it,” a cold voice said, and Laurel’s eyes widened. Despite the deep gash across her face and the unruly state of her hair and clothing, it was, unmistakably, Mara. Tamani recognised her as well, judging by his glare. Mara raised her chin, as if to look down on Tamani from her slightly greater height. But he met her eyes unflinchingly and – Laurel noted – without the requisite bow. After a moment, Mara dropped her gaze and shuffled from the room.