Laurel’s anger melted away, leaving behind a deep, hollow grief. But sadness was familiar; sadness was manageable. It didn’t transform her, the way the raging anger did. She could remain herself and still feel this aching grief.

With Chelsea and David flanking her, their arms around her shoulders, Laurel built up the courage to look at the Academy – her Avalon home. From the back she couldn’t see any flames, but Klea’s red poison was flowing over the dining hall roof and cloaking the entire greenhouse. Thick black smoke was still rolling off the stone, joining a murk as dark as heavy rain clouds that circled above her head. She wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to look at the Academy again without remembering this devastation.

“Your friend Tam was quite broken up himself,” Yeardley said, breaking the silence. “Tried to keep us from closing the wall, but we couldn’t do anything else. They were all gone.”

Laurel nodded, tears slipping down her cheeks again as she looked away from the building. “He hates giving up,” she said. “Where is he?”

As if in answer to her question, a handful of faeries came running up to Yeardley. “The Spring faerie, he’s gone!” one faerie panted.

“Gone?” Yeardley asked, sounding truly panicked for the first time.

“When you were closing the wall, he went crazy,” one of them said. “I’ve never seen anyone like that. I thought I had calmed him down, but the second I took my eyes off of him he ran. Slipped out the door and about took the fence in one jump.” He paused. “I think he lost someone in there.”

“But why would he . . . ?” Laurel looked down at her sodden pink shirt and the realisation hit her with breath-stealing force. “He thinks Katya was me,” she whispered.

“Oh no,” Chelsea said, her hands gripping Laurel’s arms. “He’s gone for Klea.”

“He’s going to kill her,” Laurel said.

“Or she’s gonna kill him,” Chelsea said, her face pale.

“Is there a gate?” Laurel said, spinning to look around the enclosure.

“Down in that corner,” Yeardley said, pointing. “But, Laurel, I advise you not to go. What do you think you are going to do?”

“I don’t know,” Laurel said. “Something.” She turned to David. “Come with me?” She had no right to ask, but she needed him. “The front door is still safe . . . after that, I – I don’t know.”

“Of course,” David said, immediately taking up the sword from where he’d plunged it into the ground.

“Chelsea—”

“Don’t even start,” Chelsea said, raising a hand. “I’m coming.”

There was no time to argue – especially against something Laurel knew she would do – had often done – in Chelsea’s shoes.

“Then let’s go,” Laurel said, nodding. “We have zero time.”

Slowing just enough to dart through the trees on silent feet, Tamani pressed through the forest, catching up quickly. Klea and her entourage had veered onto the path that led to the Winter Palace, but they wouldn’t reach it before he got to them. Ten more seconds and he could attack.

Nine.

Five.

Two.

One.

Tamani burst through the trees, his spear swinging, a primal scream he didn’t recognise tearing itself from his throat. Two black-clad faeries went down beneath the spear’s gleaming diamond blades; another stumbled to the ground. Her nearest bodyguards down, Tamani lashed out at Klea with his spear. With a yelp of surprise she raised a defensive arm; the heavy leather of her black outfit soaked up the brunt of the blow, but he thought he felt a stem crack in her lower arm.

Too bad it wasn’t her right arm.

Klea whipped out a pistol and aimed it at him, but Tamani was ready, and a savage kick sent the gun flying. No cheating; it would be skill against skill this time.

“Tamani!”

In his peripheral vision Tamani caught sight of Yuki, looking almost human in jeans and a halter top that left the small flower on her back exposed to the air. Her cry distracted Tamani long enough for Klea to land a steel-toed kick to his jaw. He leaped back, then swept Klea’s legs out from under her. Raising his spear to strike, Tamani took another kick, this time to the side of his knee. He was numb to her blows, but driving him back had given her time to scramble to her feet.

Several faerie guards were following the fight with the muzzles of their guns; Tamani doubted they would risk firing at him while he remained close to Klea. A few tried to get into the fight with knives, but Tamani lashed out with his spear, connecting with one faerie who didn’t jump back fast enough.

Though Klea favoured her broken arm, she was plenty fast with the other. She managed to pull a knife that snicked against his spear as he aimed for her throat, but she could only deflect the blow and it bit deeply into her shoulder. Sap seeped from the wound, but Klea paid no attention. “Yuki,” she called, her voice hard and sharp. “Make yourself useful!”

Tamani saw Yuki raise her hands. A cluster of tree roots rose out of the ground, the same way Jamison had commanded them in the Gate Garden. The thick, soil-flecked coils shot toward Tamani and he braced himself for their stinging lash – almost welcoming it.

But it never came. The roots stopped inches away. When Tamani spared Yuki a glance, her face was contorted, as though she were trying to prevent the roots from attacking her rather than being the one in charge.