twenty

Sylva swooped over the ballroom. She was tiny and she was young, but she had one great advantage: She was the only one in the whole assembly who could fly. The Narwhal’s Tusk was what the trolls wanted, and the fact that the Chief Troll had it in his warty hands meant that Queen Mab’s power was sorely depleted.

“I’m coming!” cried Sylva.

The fairies were doing their best to save the ball. It was most important to shield the animals in the petting zoo, so they gathered in a circle around the frightened pets and tried to calm their fears. The cupcake tower had of course been demolished by the greedy trolls, and the presents were all stolen. The ball was spoiled. But that didn’t matter. What mattered was to save Queen Mab’s magic.

The one place the trolls were not looking was up. Suddenly Sylva heard a gasp.

“Is that . . . Sylva?”

“What is she doing here?”

“She’s not old enough!”

“She’s in danger!”

Clara, Rosy, and Goldie had spotted their sister.

“She has my wings!”

“Hush,” said Clara. “She has our wings so she can save us all.”

“Go, Sylva, go,” said Rosy under her breath.

The Chief Troll was turning to address the crowd. He had the Narwhal’s Tusk grasped tightly in his damp hand. He laughed a very mean laugh.

“Magic gone. Trolls take!”

“Not so fast!” cried Sylva.

She swooped down from her perch on the crystal chandelier. She hovered for an instant over the Chief Troll’s head. Then she made a grab for the Narwhal’s Tusk.

“Give that to me!”

“Huh?” said the chief. His reflexes were slow, as he was a troll, but he sensed enough danger to clutch the tusk to his chest. “Magic mine!”

“That’s not yours—that’s Queen Mab’s!” And fiercely she grabbed onto the tusk. Would she wrest it free?

Aha! For once it came in handy that trolls were such sweaty creatures, because the Narwhal’s Tusk was easy to slip out of the Chief Troll’s fist.

“Wha?” said the Chief Troll.

“I’ve got it!” she cried.

But she didn’t need to say a word. The moment the tusk was back in fairy hands, Queen Mab’s magic began to surge back. The candles relit themselves. The mirrors gleamed once more.

“Quick, Sylva! To Queen Mab!”

Clara’s wise words were exactly what Sylva needed to hear to clear her mind. She darted to Queen Mab and put the tusk safely back in her hands.

“I’ll speak with you later, my child,” said Queen Mab quickly. Then she turned her attention to the task at hand.

“Trolls, begone!” she cried, and the room filled up with the sound of her voice. “Fairies, restore!” And with that, the fairies’ wings transformed into their diamond glory, and as Rosy told her later, their wings surged with power.

As if they had planned it, the fairies moved all together to rout the trolls from Queen Mab’s palace. The Shepherd sisters herded the hairy creatures out the south door. The Flowers pushed them through the soft soil of the rose beds down to the tunnels where they belonged. And the Bell sisters crowded around Sylva.

“Oh, Sylva! How did you know about the trolls?”

“How brave you are!”

“Is someone looking after Squeak?”

“You’re at the Fairy Ball and you’re not even eight years old!”

Sylva was panting and out of breath from her daring rescue. She was just about to speak when she heard Queen Mab’s commanding voice as the clock tower of the fairy palace began to toll the hour.

“Sylva Bell. Come before the fairy throne at once.”