“I don’t know how,” my friend said, his eyes welling up. “The water is full of bodies.”

I felt sick, but the song kept flowing.

“Victoria and Vincent will be out there as well; look to them for help,” Marc said.

“I’ll try,” Chris said, then he inexplicably snatched Souris up and stuffed him in his coat before leaping onto the dragon’s back.

Lights flickered in a pattern on the wall. “Everyone’s inside,” Marc said, then his hands fell on my shoulders. “Stop singing.”

I stiffened, risking my focus to turn and look at him.

“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.”