Something pained graces the Oracle’s features. Regret, perhaps. “I didn’t understand at the time. He helped that boy escape when he never once tried to save me from this prison. My father couldn’t read the map, and he believed all his work to be in vain. He set that fire as a diversion while the boy fled.” She glances at me briefly, hurt in her eyes. “But I can’t help you, Delta, not the way he did for that boy. The map is too important now. I must protect it in order to protect Bedrock’s people. At least I must try.”

The curtain parts, and Reed enters. His mouth is thin, his expression unreadable. “The General would like to see you.”

Dread coils in my stomach. He wants an answer I still don’t have.

“Be strong, Delta of Dead River,” the Oracle says. “Even knowing what comes next will not lessen the pain.”

Reed brings me to the nursery, where light shines through the room’s three windows.

Babies sleep in cradles, toddlers play with wooden blocks on the floor, and young children scurry between them, chasing and laughing and being children. The space feels separate from the rest of Bedrock, a room filled with hope and innocence and purity. Several caregivers drift around, handing out snacks of cornbread and honey. Another stoops over a cradle to comfort a crying babe.

Bay must be here. My heart beats faster just knowing it. I can speak to her in person, not rely on the Oracle to deliver a message.

Even still, I don’t look for her among the children. I can’t seem to look anywhere but at the General once I spot him. He stands before the room’s central window, his posture rigid and his eyes unfeeling. Two men flank him. Like Reed, they both wear ram-skull masks. Advisers. Two more of his Four.

“Delta of Dead River,” the General says, motioning for me to join him. Reed has to nudge between my shoulder blades to get my feet moving. Once I’m at the window, the General’s two guards step back, giving us space. “It’s beautiful, yes? The only room with a better view is my own, a floor above us.”

The General’s falcon screeches outside the window. Shadows move on the sill when she flaps her wings, but I can’t bring myself to look anywhere but at him, afraid of what I might find outside.

“Go on. Look.” He pinches my chin and angles my head. I can see all of Bedrock, but my eyes find her immediately, as if they don’t know where else to settle. She’s been forced to her knees atop the dam, arms bound behind her back. Several Loyalists surround her, but only one holds a blade to my mother’s throat. It glints in the afternoon sun.