Zane had an odd look, but he pegged a page with his finger and dragged it to himself. When he lifted it to read, his brows pulled together. His gaze darted to the other pages on the table.

“You see, all the evidence is right here.” I rapped my knuckle against the notes. “Mikal would have known that the Triad was made up of a drum, a wreath, and a star, but he wouldn’t have known that the drum was painted red without the clues, or that the—”

“Helen…” Zane pursed his lips and extended his page to me. “We can’t read this.”

My brain halted. I grabbed the page from his hand. “What do you mean? Don’t the Rime Folk know how to read cursive?” I scanned the handwriting, but when I glanced up at the others, everyone had the same look.

“I mean, you’ve clearly taken a good measure of notes, Trite,” Zane made a face at the paper-heaps, “but what are we to do with this?”

I blinked at the filled margins, the arrows connecting the research, at my writing between the lines of other writing. “I mean, I know I didn’t cross all the ‘t’s or dot all the ‘i’s but…” Spilled coffee had washed the ink away in spots. “I mean, I was a little tired when I wrote it,” I admitted, lowering the page. I swallowed. “Well, I’ll just have to read it to you then.” I tried to calculate the time it would take based on the number of pages and my reading speed.

“Why don’t you just tell us where you guess these signs to be hidden, Carrier? Maybe that would help,” Porethius offered. “Surely if a Volume woke up to speak, it was for a purpose.”

I stared at the pages for moment. And I let the one in my hand fall back to the pile with the others. If I’d been able to come to Winter months ago when I needed to, I could have told them all this in person.

“The wreath is in the care of the Evergreen dynasty,” I rasped. I took an awkward gander at Edward Haid. “The wreath was Elowin’s original crown of pine needles. I think Nightflesh twisted it into a garland and placed it upon the head of the Queen of the Pines. It’s been hiding inside her crown for almost twenty years.”

Cane’s gaze flew to Edward who’d gone as still as a statue, but I went on. “The second sign was the drum. In the story of Day and Night, the Volumes say a drum was used to soothe Elowin himself on the day he was born into Winter. Its beat mimicked the True King’s heartbeat, thus giving its rhythm power. But I think Nightflesh painted it red, covered it in jewels, and passed it off to the Crimson family through one of his vessels, pretending it was a gift.”

Cane paled. He looked at Porethius. “Kingsblood,” he rasped. “I know that drum. My mother used to bring out a magic drum for the seasonal Red Holiday,” he said.