As always, that little voice in the back of his mind told him to keep going. He owed it to Rhiannon. She had sacrificed her own life to help him get away. He had to keep going. Her death had to count for something.

And what about Ella? His little sister needed him. He had to find her. Help her. Look after her.

It was like the two girls were at his side, urging him on, one foot after the other. Rhiannon on the right, Ella on the left.

Without warning, the Kid stopped. Sam tensed.

What was it? What had he seen? More grown-ups? Would they have to fight this time? Sam gripped his butterfly pin. Maybe this night would never end.

“Look,” said the Kid, his voice a croak. And he pointed.

Sam squinted into the murky gloom.

“What is it?” he said. “What am I looking for?”

“There,” said the Kid. “Up ahead. Flames.”

Sam saw them now—a row of what looked like flaming torches along the top of a wall. And he realized, with a little jolt of hope, that he recognized the building. He smiled. He had been here on a school trip.

It was the Tower of London. The castle by the Thames, originally built by the Normans after the Battle of Hastings. How reassuring it was to see something familiar.

And someone must have lit those torches along the outer wall.

“There are people there,” he whispered.

“Adult people?”

“I don’t know,” said Sam. “They don’t usually light fires, do they? But nothing’s normal around here.”

“We should go careful,” said the Kid, but almost as he said it, a voice called out from the darkness behind them.

“Stand still. Don’t move.”

A boy’s voice. Not an adult.

“We’re kids,” Sam cried. “Only kids.”

“I can see that,” said the voice. “Where have you come from?”

“Waitrose,” said Sam.

“Waitrose?” There was the hint of a suppressed laugh in the voice.

Sam slowly turned around.

“In Holloway.”

“Where’s that?”

“North London. Past Camden Town.”

“You’ve come all the way from there?”

“Yes—I’m trying to get to Buckingham Palace.”

“Well, you’re more than a little lost.”

“I know. Please, we’re very tired and hungry. We’ve been running from grown-ups all day.”

“Is it just the two of you?”

“Yes.”

Four figures appeared out of the darkness, and Sam felt like he’d somehow slipped back in time hundreds of years.

The figures, all boys, were dressed in medieval outfits. Tunics and boots with pieces of armor, swords, shields, and helmets. One carried a crossbow.

“Will you help us?” said the Kid. “We can’t go on. These are our last legs.”