Hedy’s hysteria transformed to a face of wild wonder. Kees nodded in contemplation. “We still haven’t solved the issue of the Trials. I can’t go through them again. Besides, how would we get barrels of water back without detection?”

“I have resources.” Sven gave me a pointed look. Meaning me . . . and my wish.

He let the implications linger, then pointed at Bastiaan with a half-burned twig. “What’s your Talent? Could it help us?”

Bastiaan’s eyes turned sharp. “My Talent has been silenced.” He tugged the glove off his right hand to reveal a deep-purple ring marked into his thumb like ink.

It seemed a big moment for Bastiaan, but no one gave much reaction. I had never seen a Talent Mark before, but I could wager a guess it wasn’t supposed to look rotten like that. My wishes used to glow the brightest silver when bottled.

“The king has a Bane,” Bastiaan said grimly. “Two, actually.”

I gasped, but I was the only one. Bastiaan, at least, seemed to consider Banes dangerous. Why didn’t Sven?

“Mattias’s very touch destroys a Talent.” Bastiaan sounded defeated. “And he has a Talented on his council—Baron Hartmut—who can identify someone’s Talent. That’s why Mattias held a census shortly after his father’s death. He now knows who has a Talent and what that Talent is.”

Kees paled. Sven shrugged. “I didn’t attend the census call.” No surprise. “You said he has two Banes?” A combination of fear and awe painted his face. “How did he manage that?”

“The woman with him said it was because the Nightwell recognized his sovereignty.”

Hedy cocked her head. “Mattias has a woman on his council?”

“She brought him water from the Nightwell. Which means she knows how to get there . . . so now the king does too.”

“What does his second Bane do?” Kees choked.

Bastiaan faced Hedy when he answered. “It controls anyone else who has a Bane—makes them loyal to him.”

For once the warrior woman went silent. Cowed. My suspicions were confirmed: Hedy must have a Bane.

“Winter’s breath . . .” Kees gulped.

Winter’s breath, indeed. That much control in one man—one man with a paranoid loathing for Talented and an unquenchable thirst for power. It would be the end of Fairhoven.

“I believe his Bane is limited to vocal commands, though.” Bastiaan’s words did nothing to ease Hedy’s tense posture. “You’d have to be in his presence. It’s a theory, but I believe I’m right.”

“How can such a power exist?” Sven thundered. “This is tyranny!” For once, his smooth words fled him. He grabbed Hedy by the shoulders. “You’ll be okay. We’ll defeat him. You will not be his!”

“The Well has the power to undo your Bane,” Bastiaan offered. Hedy glowered at him.

“Get the camp ready,” Sven growled to Kees. “We’re leaving by sunset tomorrow.”