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‘What about Tolya, though?’ Naxi said, her voice small. ‘Who says she won’t attack again if we leave now?’

‘If they attack again, it won’t be within the week’, Agenor immediately said, rubbing those gold-glowing fingers over his temple. ‘They’ll need a moment to decide what they’re going to do with an unbound godsworn mage on our side. That said, once they’ve determined their plan …’ A small, bitter pause. ‘I wouldn’t expect them to stall for much longer.’

Faces turned hard and grim in that deafening silence.

Stall.Ships around the Golden Court, threatening but not attacking. Envoys on the islands, spreading rumours but nothing worse – yet. Now that the full extent of my new magic had been revealed, however … The Mother would realise that every day of delay gave us the chance to gather more strength.

No more time to prepare. No more time to look for bindings or allies. The next attack would be a genuine one.

‘All the more reason to go as soon as possible’, I said, breaking the ominous silence.Move, my limbs were hissing at me,move, move, move.‘Helenka wants to have us gone tomorrow anyway. Might as well leave straight for the Cobalt Court.’

There was a hint of relief in the murmured confirmations and agreements, just enough to tell me I was not the only one teetering on the brink of reckless movement. Agenor alone drew his brows together, glanced at the azure bargain mark lodged into Creon’s wrist, and slowly said, ‘How did you even convince her to let you in for a single minute?’

Creon merely shrugged as he bent over to tear off a bite of bread, the very picture of uncaring, unmannered boredom.

The atmosphere shifted like a gust of cold wind as Agenor’s doubt morphed into annoyance. ‘You didn’t threaten her, I hope?’

With an unimpressed raised eyebrow, Creon stuck half of the bread into his mouth and held the rest out to Alyra, watching her as she excitedly picked it from between his fingers. The high-strung silence lasted two, three seconds before Lyn quietly said, ‘Did you tell her the truth? About Zoya’s death?’

Agenor frowned. ‘What truth?’

Without so much as a glance at him – or at Lyn, or even at me – Creon rose to his feet, brushed the dried leaves off his shirt, and sauntered off.

He was gone so swiftly I didn’t have time to object. Even Alyra’s alarmed squeal didn’t stop him as he vanished between the trees, the shadows of dusk wrapping around his dark wings unnaturally fast. Lost for words, I stared at the spot where he’d disappeared and felt for a moment as if I was back at the Crimson Court, back at the pavilion, where he would shrug and walk off whenever my questions dug just a little too deep.

Demon powers. Dangerous ground to tread.

‘For fuck’s sake,’ Tared muttered, audibly rolling his eyes.

I dragged my eyes from the dusky forest, managing only with the greatest of efforts not to jump up and run after him. What in hell had sparked this flight? Should the story have remained a secret from this company in particular, for whatever reason?

‘Forgive me,’ Agenor said stiffly, clearly of the opinion that someone rather owedhimforgiveness, ‘but I don’t see what—’

‘It’s about his demon magic,’ Lyn interrupted in hushed tones, throwing me an apologetic look. ‘He used his powers to soothe Zoya’s pain when he killed her, you see. Took it for himself instead. I suppose if Helenka—’

‘What?’ Agenor blinked at her with a sharp, incredulous laugh. ‘Good gods. Lyn, that’s a lovely story, but he cut Zoya topieces.’

‘Bold of you to assume we aren’t perfectly aware,’ Tared said coldly, and I recalled my father had admitted the whole mission had been executed under his command.

‘Thank you, Thorgedson,’ Agenor bit out. ‘That’s not what I’m … Look, Creon would effectively have killed himself if he’d taken her pain the way you’re suggesting. Do you really thinkhewould make that sort of a sacrifice? What madman would …’

And there it was – the reason Creon had walked. My confusion melted into razor-sharp clarity, a sensation so bitter it made me wince. He must have known this was coming. The scorn, the anger, the disbelief. The nettling remarks. The brand new stabs at a vulnerable wound he hadn't chosen to bare here or now or to these people.

Something snapped inside me, the reckless fury drowning out the rest of my father’s words. ‘A madman with ten times the integrity you always assumed, perhaps?’

Agenor stared at me.

‘He’s been doing it for all of them,’ I added sharply, shoving my plate aside to get to my feet. Damn my father’s good opinions, then. ‘Not just Zoya – everyone the Mother made him kill. It was the only way he could mitigate—’

‘Em.’ His tone was too firm – the tone of a male who has no choice but to be firm, because the alternative is to slip into flailing hysterics. ‘He’s killed thousands upon thousands of people since the Last Battle.’

‘So?’

He didn’t move. The fire crackled and spat sparks into the darkening sky; a cool night breeze blew through the clearing, drawing goosebumps over my bare arms.

‘He did not take all of that pain,’ Agenor finally said, audibly struggling to convince himself and me at once. ‘You must have misunderstood. He might have done it for a few people, perhaps, but—’

I scoffed. ‘Glad to see it’s still your first instinct to assume the rest of the world must have gotten it all wrong.’