He was itching to be off.

Ella was in tears. She pushed her way through the big kids to Arran.

“I want to stay,” she said.

“What? You can’t, Ella.” Arran got down on his haunches so that he was at her level.

“I have to.”

“Why? What’s the matter, darling?”

“It’s Sam,” Ella sobbed. “What if he comes back and I’m not here?”

Arran put his arms around the little girl and gave her a hug.

“Oh, Ella,” he said. “He won’t be coming back, I’m afraid. He’s gone forever. You have to accept that.”

“No!” said Ella angrily. “He’s not dead. He’ll come back to me. He’s my brother, and I just know it.”

“Ella, if I thought for one moment that Sam was coming back, I’d wait here for him. We’d all wait. You know that. But he’s gone. Like all the other kids we’ve lost. We have to think about ourselves now. Think about the future. Sam would want you to be happy, wouldn’t he?”

“Yes.”

“He’d want you to be safe?”

“Yes.”

“So, for his sake we have to go. All right?”

Ella sniffed and nodded. “You’ll look after me, won’t you?” she said.

“’Course I will. Tonight you’ll be safe in the palace, like a princess.”

Arran stood up, then closed his eyes as a fresh knot of sickness worked its way through his guts. He had wanted to get away hours ago. They had planned to leave early. But getting the kids organized had been a nightmare. He felt like a dad getting his kids ready to go on vacation: dealing with squabbles and complaints and questions, nagging at them to get packed, shouting at them when they forgot things. And then there had been the holdup with Callum.

Now it looked like they were at last ready to get moving.

They were going to follow the main road down to Camden, cut through Regent’s Park to the Marylebone Road, and then cross over to Portland Place. Portland Place would take them to Oxford Circus, from where they would head down Regent’s Street to Piccadilly Circus and cut through to St. James’s Park. From there it was a straight run along the Mall to the palace. Walking fast they could do it in two hours. But the little kids would slow them down, and if they came across any grown-ups, which they were bound to do, that would slow them down further. They should still make it before the end of the day, though. So there was no panic. It had taken Jester and his friends much longer to get up here, as they had made the mistake of taking back roads and side streets, assuming they would be safer. They had wasted a great deal of time dodging grown-ups, running, hiding, and fighting.

Arran hoped that the sheer force of their numbers today would deter any grown-ups from attacking. And if they did attack, well then—they were ready for them.

They were an army.