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She finished pouring the wine without answering, her wizened face expressionless.

‘Do you …’ Now, suddenly close to the impossible goal I’d fought for, the question felt lethally dangerous on my lips. ‘Do you know how to break them?’

The silence was a frail, delicate thing, and somehow the thud of the kettle as Zera lowered it to the floor couldn’t break it. Her lips visibly hesitated a last moment before she quietly said, ‘Yes.’

My heart launched into my throat. ‘Youknow?’

‘I’m a goddess, Emelin.’ A joyless smile briefly curled her lips. ‘What use would I be if I didn’t know things?’

‘Can you teach me?’ I blurted out, vaguely registering that my fingers had clenched painfully tight around a handful of wool. ‘Or tell me how to—’

‘No.’

She spoke the word softly, gently. But it was anononetheless, and there was no doubt in that single treacherous syllable.

I stiffened in the pillows, breath catching for an everlasting moment. ‘No?’

‘I wish you’d come to me with any other question, Emelin.’ She averted her eyes – weary, worn eyes, even below the kindness. ‘I would be so very glad to be of use to you. But I cannot help you break the bindings.’

‘Why … why not?’ I felt like I was slipping, gaping at her – like this little cottage was built on quicksand, and every word either of us spoke was another inch deeper into the mire of hopeless defeat. ‘I mean, if you can’t … but since you said you know …’

Zera hesitated for the briefest moment, then said, ‘It requires magic you don’t have.’

‘Divine magic,’ I mumbled.

She nodded.

‘That … that means she’s godsworn, too, doesn’t it? The Mother?’

‘Yes.’ A flash of bitterness swept over her features. ‘In all the wrong ways, I’m afraid.’

I pulled up my knees, unsure how far I could probe. ‘Do you mean … your brother …’

‘Korok,’ Zera said flatly, ‘was an idiot. I loved him, but he was a starry-eyed idiot, and he gave her far more power than he ever should have.’

That, at least, we could agree on.

‘We had an agreement,’ she continued, her voice softer now. ‘We decided to never teach any race the magic of another, and then the blustering fool went forth and gave her blood magic in addition to the colour magic she already had. The same blood magic she used to kill him in the end, to be exact.’

A shiver ran up my spine at the memory of that stark black crater just outside Lyckfort. ‘So it’s blood magic? The bindings?’

‘Oh, no.’ She did not look glad to continue. ‘Just the ritual that killed Korok. The bindings are a form of … let us say, advanced colour magic.’

I blinked. ‘Like I have?’

‘Not exactly.’

‘But … but almost?’ A dazed laugh escaped me. ‘Close enough that you could teach me how to break them?’

She merely sighed and handed me my mug of spiced wine, then took her place opposite me again. Her eyes remained aimed at the floor, her white-grey hair a long and slightly muddy veil around her face.

No answer. Nothing but that defeated, meaningful sigh.

‘Youcould,’ I concluded breathlessly.

‘I’m not sure,’ she said quietly, still not looking up. ‘I truly don’t know, Emelin. I lost much of my power. I may still be able to draw out those abilities in you if I try to swear you to me, but it’s equally possible that even that is far beyond my capacities now.’

‘But couldn’t you … try?’