He hadn’t realised he was humming until Yuki pulled back and spoke. “What’s that?”

“What? Oh, it’s a . . . lullaby. My mother used to sing it to me; it was her favourite.”

“A faerie lullaby?”

“I used to think so,” Tamani said, smiling sadly.

“Sing it for me,” Yuki said, folding herself into his arms.

In the darkness of the night, David, Klea, and her soldiers seemed to fade away as Tamani sang, softly, haltingly, a song of Camelot he’d learned at his mother’s knee. He knew the words by heart, but as he sang them, he felt like he was hearing them for the first time.

“And by the moon the reaper weary,

Piling sheaves in uplands airy,

Listening, whispers, ‘Tis the faerie

Lady of Shalott.’”

He met Yuki’s light green eyes, filled with tears again, her chin quivering against the pain of both the poison and regret. Tamani knew exactly how she felt. He wished the song really would put her to sleep – that her life would drain away while she was dreaming, some place the pain couldn’t touch her. He was no stranger to death, but though he had watched friends die – more often than he cared to remember – he had never held someone as the life drained from their eyes. It frightened him to do so now.

But he wouldn’t abandon her to suffer it alone.

‘But Lancelot mused a little space

He said, ‘She has a lovely face;

Goddess, prithee, lend her grace,

The Lady of Shalott.’”

“Alfred, Lord Tennyson,” Klea said when Tamani finished singing, and Tamani’s head shot up as if she had broken a spell. Even David had paused his digging to listen and he cast Klea an ugly look before turning back to his moat. “Bowdlerised by some Sparkler hack, no doubt,” she finished, her voice flat.

If Yuki heard Klea’s acid commentary, she made no sign. Her eyes were closed, fingers relaxed on Tamani’s arm.

“Tam?”

“Yes?”

“Is there any way this will end well?”

“There’s always a chance,” he forced himself to say. But he didn’t see how either he or Yuki would live to see another sunrise. The poison was just too strong.

Yuki smiled wanly, then glanced over at Klea, who had returned to her silent stargazing. Tamani could feel the fear that still filled Yuki at the sight of her mentor. “I don’t want her to win any more. And I can make sure she never does.”

“You can’t kill Klea,” Tamani said, though he was sorely tempted to let Yuki do just that. But he forced himself to trust Laurel, to let her make this decision.

But Yuki was already shaking her head. “Her plan can’t work unless she controls the Winter faeries. When I die she’ll kill the others and everyone will be stuck in here with her. And even if Laurel finds a way . . . You’ll always be dependent on them. It isn’t fair. I – I should have done something . . . before. But maybe this will make up for it.” Her eyes seemed to focus on some distant point, then snapped back into focus as she looked up at Tamani. “Do you have anything . . . metal?”

“Metal?” he asked, confused.

“It has to match,” she said, as if that cleared everything up.

“Um . . . maybe?” Pulling her against him with one hand, he pulled up the cuff of his trousers and drew a small throwing knife from the sheath on his leg. “How’s this?”

Yuki took the knife from his hand. “Perfect.” Her breathing was shallow, rapid; tears were coursing down her cheeks and her voice quivered as she spoke. “This is going to take a lot of power from me. I . . . I don’t know that I’ll last much longer when it’s done.”

“Don’t talk that way,” Tamani whispered.

“No, I know. I can feel it.” Her body shook as she clenched her teeth against her sobs. “Please don’t leave me. Hold me till I’m gone.”

“What are you—”

“Shokuzai,” Yuki said, closing her hands over the small blade. “Atonement.” A warm glow began to shine from between her fingers and Tamani glanced at Klea, who was studying them with narrowed eyes. Tamani was pretty sure his body was angled enough to block her view, but he cupped his hand over Yuki’s anyway, completely shutting out the strange light.

Yuki inhaled sharply and Tamani pressed his forehead to her temple as her brows knit and she pressed her hands together even tighter. Tamani felt like he was in the upper rooms of the palace again, so tangible was the power that pulsed from Yuki. His gut response was to leap to his feet and flee, but he made himself hold on until the feeling began to ebb, the light dimming until it was outshone by the starlight.

Tamani pulled back and looked at Yuki; her eyes were closed and her face was ashen. He was afraid she was already gone, but slowly – laboriously – her lashes rose. “Give me your hands.”

Tamani obeyed her tiny whisper, and though he managed not to tremble, inside he was shaking with fear. What had she done?

She laid something warm on his palm – whatever it was, it was no longer a knife. Tamani peered down, careful to keep it concealed from Klea. He wasn’t sure exactly what he was seeing. “I don’t understand.”

With soft fingers on his cheek Yuki pulled his head closer, whispering directions on how to use the object she’d just made. When the extent of the possibilities dawned on him he gasped and closed his fingers back over the infinitely precious gift.