“Better they think Tristan’s dead,” he said. “And if he was, you wouldn’t have the focus for magic.”
Stopping felt like abandoning all those out there, but I knew he was right. We’d done what we could for them, and now we needed to prepare for the attack. I let the song trail off, turning to the center of the tower so I wouldn’t have to witness the reemergence of their madness. Then I took a deep breath. “We need to go down to the wall and see what we can do to prepare.”
* * *
Marc had raced ahead to warn Fred and his men of what was coming. Sabine and I followed on horseback, her clinging to my waist as we raced through the empty streets. Windows and doors were boarded shut, but there was no missing the fearful eyes peering through the cracks or the tension singing through all of Trianon. They knew what was coming.
On the wall, it was even worse. The half-bloods were arrayed at equal intervals, holding up their piece of the patchwork barrier, but their faces were drawn, hands resting against the stone for balance, a few even on their knees as if the effort of standing was beyond them. The expressions of the human soldiers were even worse. Some sat staring blankly at nothing; others wept openly; more still were muttering prayers for divine protection which were barely audible over the cries of the horde below.
I glanced through an arrow slit, and immediately wished I had not. “Let us in, let us in,” they screamed when they caught sight of my face, a mass of them surging forward with renewed effort. Clawing, grasping, pushing, and shoving – not a one of them seemed without injury, and the ground at the base of the wall was drenched with blood and bodies. Had that hour of respite done them any good, or had I only prolonged their anguish?
Turning away, I hurried to where Marc stood. Fred and Joss kneeling at his feet, in my brother’s arms a still, silver-haired form. “No,” I shrieked, sprinting toward them. “Gran!”
But even as I fell to my knees, I knew it was too late.
“We were out there helping the children.” I looked up and saw Lady Marie standing next to Marc. I hadn’t recognized her in the plain homespun she wore, her hair pulled back in a tight braid. “She was healing those who needed it, and I was giving a sleeping draught to them so they wouldn’t rejoin the mob when your spell broke and…” Her voice cracked. “She had just finished healing a little girl, and she collapsed. There was nothing I could do.”
A sob tore out of my chest, and I staggered over to an arrow slit and looked out. Sure enough, beyond the horde lay a long row of small forms, their faces still with the peace of sleep. “Bring them in,” I choked out, refusing to see them trampled or injured when the battle began. Refusing for my gran’s last act to be a waste.
No one moved.
“Bring them in,” I screamed.
Marc nodded, and I watched as tender ropes of magic wrapped around the children, lifting them over the madness made of their parents and relatives, and deposited them gently on the ground inside the dubious safety of the wall. He turned to Sabine, but she was already moving. “I’ll get them somewhere safe,” she said.
“I have more of the potion,” Marie said, touching my shoulder. “If you’ll let me bring more of the children in, I can give it to them and treat their injuries.”
She was asking my permission, I realized. Like I was the ruler instead of her. “Do it.”
Nodding once, she turned and called, “Zoé!”
The half-blood girl who had once been my maid appeared, and the two hurried around the bend in the wall, their heads together as they conferred.
I gently kissed my gran’s forehead, pulled her cloak over her face, and then I said, “How do you think this is going to go?”
“They know I’m in here,” Marc replied, staring out over the hills and fields as though he could see our enemy coming. “They know hundreds of half-bloods, many of whom possess a fair amount of power, are in here.” His jaw flexed. “Angoulême built this army for a reason – I believe they’ll disguise themselves and join the horde, break down sections of the wall and get inside the city hidden within the flow of humans. After that…” He shook his head.
“But you’d be able to pick them out of a crowd, wouldn’t you?” Fred asked. “Feel their power, or however that works?”
“Yes,” Marc said. “But they’ll be hemmed in by civilians on all sides. Attacking them without harming dozens of innocents would be next to impossible. And even if that was a sacrifice we were willing to make, we don’t have the power to fight them all.”
“Can we get word to Trollus?” I asked, wishing there was a way for me to contact Martin. “The trolls there helped those on the water – maybe they’d be willing to help here.”