The princess seemed less sickly now—as though something of Tania’s spirit and strength had bled into her. She still looked ill, but not deathly.

Two whole life memories burned now in Tania’s mind—running parallel, braided together, and yet quite separate and discrete: sixteen years of life lived in Camden and the lost sixteen years of her Faerie childhood.

“Right glad I am that Drake met a deserved fate,” growled the princess. “But it hurts my soul that Rathina was used so cruelly by him. She shall never be whole again, come what good fortune may.”

Tania’s heart ached as Rathina’s words on the golden beach came back to her. “I hope my gift shall be a warrior’s heart!” “No,” Tania said. “She won’t.”

A catch came into the princess’s voice. “And Zara, sweet Zara, dead and yet not . . .”

“I know,” said Tania. “I don’t get it, either. It’s like a dream come true, but it’s also really weird.”

The princess paused a moment, as if trying to decipher Tania’s words. “But a greater peril looms over Faerie now,” she said at last. “Help me up, my friend! I would stand.”

Tania got to her feet. She helped the frail princess up off the bed. A few faces turned to them, the dying people roused a little by the movement.

We’re exactly the same height. Everything about us is the same—down to the gold dust in our eyes.

“This is so strange,” Tania murmured.

“It is indeed.” A pale smile touched the princess’s lips. “And stranger still to know my sorry fate. Alas, that a girl’s foolish whims set such events in motion! Five hundred years of twilight cast over Faerie. A Queen lost, a realm blighted. Had I but known . . .”

Tania put an arm around the princess’s back, ignoring the smell of the rags that covered her—rags that had once been a Faerie gown. She could still see traces of fine needlepoint and hints of lilac through the grime.

The princess smiled. “You give me strength, my friend,” she said. Tania fought not to be repelled by the sour scent of death that came from her mouth. “But what purpose do we now have? How are we to return?”

“To Camden, you mean?”

“Aye. To do what must be done, we must unite with the other children. Only then can we step between the worlds and seek Lear’s downfall.”

Tania stared at the princess. She seemed so calm, so focused. And yet she knew that she was dying, that nothing either of them could do would change that. Come what may, she would breathe her last breath in this foul place.

The princess gave an odd, crooked smile. “And how would you act differently, my friend, if your fate was mine and mine, yours?” It was as if she’d read Tania’s thoughts. “Would you faint upon your bed and call upon death to do his worst? I think not!” Her eyes flickered with a bittersweet light. “It eases my heart to know that you are in the world five hundred years hence. And that you will do great deeds!” The smile strengthened a little. “Killed the Sorcerer King upon Salisoc Heath! There’s gallantry. There’s a legacy to be proud of.”

“Thank you.”

“And now—to the purpose!” said the princess. “We must act while the little strength you have given me remains. Let’s away from this place of death.” She frowned. “But not via the door—guards stand to prevent any of these poor souls from fleeing.” Her eyes darkened. “They fear this plague greatly—many have died.” She beckoned. “Come. There is another way out.”

They walked between the beds. An emaciated arm reached out, raking fingers thin as claws. Tania drew away, trying not to look into the faces of the dying.

There was a window in the far wall, little more than a rough hole in the wall, covered with wooden shutters. Together, they forced the shutters back. Through the window Tania could see a few scattered houses and a gray stone building under a clouded night sky. Trees huddled in the distance. There were few lights and no people.

Tania climbed through the window and helped the princess to follow. She struggled to get over the sill, and Tania had to take her weight on her shoulders, easing her legs out into the night. The air was sweet and fresh outside the pest house—it was like stepping into another world. Tania could hear the sound of a river from somewhere close by.

Hand-in-hand they ran at a crouch away from the ghastly hut, passing between darkened wooden houses and pausing only when they came under the deep shadows of the trees.

The princess was gasping for breath by the time they found shelter. She sat under a tree, hunched over, her face ashen, her hair hanging. Tania stood over her, staring out at the little hamlet—trying to make sense of where they might be.

“This is the hamlet of Kentisston,” murmured the princess. “Do you not remember the men throwing you upon the cart and bringing you here?”

“Vaguely,” said Tania. She had so many new memories—and it was sometimes tricky to sift through them. But she did remember the horrors of the jolting trip to the pest house.

Kentisston? That name meant something to her. She’d seen it somewhere. Yes! The last time she’d been in Mortal London during the hunt for Queen Titania she’d taken a few minutes to try and find out whether Camden had existed five hundred years ago.

She’d learned that in that time Camden had been no more than a few scattered houses lying in the valley of the River Fleet, to the northwest of the teeming medieval city of London. But a little way to the north—no more than a mile along a dirt track—a hamlet had lain in the Manor of Hampstead. The hamlet of Kentisston.

Kentish Town in the modern world. No more than one stop away on the tube.

She crouched in front of the princess. “Can you walk?”

“Mayhap with your aid,” said the sickly girl breathlessly.

“I think our best hope is to go to Camden. It’s not too far—south of here.” She frowned. South? Which way was south? Oh yes, now she remembered—they had come into Kentisston from the south. There was only that one roadway. Find that and their path would be clear ahead of them.

The princess used Tania’s offered arm to climb to her feet. “You hope to make contact with the children there?” she said. “Yes, ’tis a plan not without merit. Give me your shoulder, my friend.”

Tania supported the princess as they made their way along the eaves of the woodland, skirting the buildings, avoiding any contact with people.

The road south was rutted and muddy. They kept to the edges, where hoof and wheel had not churned the ground to a sticky mire.

They moved slowly, pausing often to allow the princess to catch her breath. At these times she would sit under the trees, her head down, her chest heaving, while Tania stood close by, watching the road and dreading the sound of a horse or a wagon. The princess was too obviously sick; Tania had bad feelings about how a plague victim might be treated if found at the roadside. She could be killed to prevent the illness spreading.

Tania’s thoughts strayed to Edric and to the girls they had already gathered. Edric must be frantic. Would the girls understand what had happened? Would they be able to help?

The starless night stretched on and on as step by slow step the princess leaned more heavily on Tania’s shoulder.

Rooftops appeared from the darkness.

Camden?

Please let it be!

Tania let the princess slip down into the grass at the roadside. Her body ached from the weight, but she pushed away all thoughts of fatigue and discomfort.

Stepping into the middle of the road, her eyes toward the rooftops, she worked to clear her mind of all thoughts but one.

Marjorie? Gracie? Are you there? Flora? Can you hear me? Can you feel me? Georgina! Ann? I’m here! I’m right here!

There was nothing. The night lay over her spirit like a dead body. This agonizing journey had been a waste of time—a waste of effort.

She tried again, concentrating until her head throbbed.

“Edric?” she called. “I need you to find me!”

Silence as still as the grave.

But then . . . a twittering among the trees as of tiny voices calling from afar.

She stared around, trying to home in on the direction from which the voices were coming. But they were all around her now—a whole band of female voices all speaking over one another.

“One at a time!” she cried, her hands over her ears. “I can’t understand you!”

One voice rose above the others. Georgina’s voice. “Go to the light! We are there!”

A moment later Tania saw a flicker of movement in the trees.

It was a bright ball of blue light, about the size of her clenched fist, and it was moving steadily toward her.

It hovered a few yards away. Full of new hope, Tania ran to the princess and drew her to her feet.

“We have to follow the light,” Tania said.

“There are sweet voices in my mind,” murmured the princess.

“Yes. In mine, too.” Tania half carried the princess toward the ball. It moved away, guiding them deeper into the trees.

The shining sapphire ball halted in a clearing.

The voices were an urgent chorus now. Come, Tania! Come to us! We can see you now! Oh, come to us! Quickly!

She stepped toward the light. A deeper blue blossomed at its center, and a hand reached out from nowhere. Around the wrist was a thin leather band strung through a black jewel.

Edric. The jewel was black amber to protect him from the curse of metal.

Clinging tightly to the princess, Tania took hold of his hand.