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His wings and shoulders sagged a fraction. I’d correctly guessed that that was the question he hadn't dared to ask, then.

‘I see.’ His voice had gone flat and deep again.

‘She did say your magic was still unbound by the time of Korok’s death, though,’ I quickly added. A small comfort, but it was all I had to offer – that, and the knowledge that he was not the only one whose heart sank two inches every single time my mother’s name was uttered. ‘So at least we know that.’

He muttered something like a thanks, and I knew in that instant that he wouldn’t care much about being a coward – hell, that he’dwelcomethe scorn and the self-loathing of never stepping in to stop the Mother all those years – if it brought back the woman he’d loved and lost twenty years ago.

I wasn’t sure what more to say, the way I never quite knew what to tell my father as soon as either of us started feeling something. We walked the rest of the way in silence, Lyn a tactful ten strides ahead of us, to where a roaring campfire was burning and the others were busy distributing plates and cutlery to a messy circle of diners.

‘Is fire even allowed in nymph forests?’ I muttered.

‘As long as you use dead wood,’ Agenor said immediately, seeming equally glad for a less inflammatory topic to revive our conversation. ‘But yes, cutting off fresh branches would land you in their prisons, which …’

I shivered. ‘Yes. No.’

He gave me a grim smile of understanding, hand coming up a few inches as if he was about to squeeze my shoulder. Alyra huffed, ruffling her feathers, and his arm dropped again.

There was little room for feelings around the fire, where Tared and Beyla were exchanging rapid remarks on the future defence of Tolya and Naxi was monologuing to Creon about the convenience of overburdened nervous systems. I lifted Alyra off my shoulder, allowed her to flutter off, and dropped down next to Creon, which earned me a habitual side-glance from Tared and Agenor. Ignoring them, I accepted the plate Naxi offered me and said, ‘Any new ideas on the bindings?’

Several, Creon signed with a shrug.All of them nonsensical. Haven’t asked Agenor yet.His lips trembled into a smile that could have melted stone.He seemed a tad distracted by something when Beyla faded him in.

‘Must have been the pretty nymph scenery,’ I said earnestly.

Creon chuckled. Naxi’s grin at me suggested no one had told her about the prize I’d taken from the fae thief yet.

We summarised our discoveries for Agenor while we ate grilled vegetables drenched in smoky date sauce and baked handfuls of dough into crispy rolls over the fire. My father had recovered his unwavering composure; he didn’t bat an eye at the sentient nature of Zera’s forest, only allowed himself a slight frown at the mention of living dragons, and accepted the news of Iorgas’s death with a raised eyebrow and a nod. But he shot up straighter at our theory on the Mother and her pens, and went so far as to mutter a curse when we finally arrived at the question for which we’d dragged him away from the besieged Golden Court.

Where were the bindings?

‘We’re talking about immense quantities of objects, I presume,’ he said slowly, eyes darting around the circle as if he was waiting for more information. They lingered on Creon, who shrugged and signed,Tell him he knows the numbers better than I do.

I passed on the message. Agenor groaned, rubbed his temple, and said, ‘All magical peoples put together, we would be speaking about hundreds of thousands of items. Unless Achlys and Melinoë bound all of you to a grain of sand …’

‘Considering that she can reverse individual bindings,’ Lyn said, ‘it stands to reason the objects must at least be sizeable enough to be separable.’

‘Yes. Let’s assume dice-sized at the minimum. And I assume there would need to be some sort of organisation.’ Agenor stared at the forest for a moment in sharp concentration. ‘I can’t think of any location at the Crimson Court that would lend itself to that sort of collection. Which was your conclusion, too, I’m guessing?’

‘What about her throne?’ I suggested, the idea already past my lips before I could think it through.

‘They already had that thing long before the Last Battle,’ Agenor said, his brows drawing together. ‘And I doubt it would offer enough space to store that many bindings. Even if they used every individual bone … Not enough of them by far, I’d say. Interesting idea, though.’

Now that I considered the matter a moment longer, I was inclined to agree with him. My hunch had hardly been based on any evidence, but rather on the persistent annoyance of not knowing why in hell she was so protective of the damn thing. There had to besomereason, even if Zera had said …

I pushed the matter aside. Another question, another day.

‘How about the Borython complex?’ Lyn was saying, fidgeting with her curls. ‘It’s about as well-defended as I’d expect for a binding storage area.’

‘I’ve been there often,’ Agenor murmured as he shook his head. ‘I know the place well, and I’ve never noticed anything that might fit what we’re looking for. There’s the Khepri caves, of course, and Achlys and Melinoë have always been rather secretive of their reasons for keeping us out of there …’

‘It’s not the caves,’ Beyla said, her eerie voice hardly audible over the crackling of the fire. ‘They’re mostly empty, save for a couple of old blood altars I suppose she inherited from Korok.’

Agenor blinked at her. ‘How in hell did you get into that place?’

‘With a sharp sword,’ she said a little smugly.

Even Agenor allowed himself a chuckle, although it sounded somewhat bewildered. ‘Well. Not the caves, then. I can’t really think of any other closely guarded locations – there are a few places where no one ever goes anymore, of course, but that’s usually for far more innocent reasons.’

‘Any examples?’ Lyn said.