His protectiveness over Hedy spoke volumes. Strangely, it relieved me. It further proved that his affection for me was false. Shallow.

But the part that stood out to me most was Bastiaan’s last statement. If the Well of Talents could undo a Bane, surely it could undo a curse. I just needed to get to it. Now that I finally knew who had a map . . .

All that remained was for me to steal it.

Chapter 21
Myrthe

I should abandon Bastiaan. If I wanted to strengthen my heart against the invasion of emotions, I should flee this temptation of empathy toward him, toward Runt. Sven had a map. I didn’t have to ask for Bastiaan’s help—I didn’t have to keep him away from rescuing Runt.

I’d been handed a flake of hope, and it felt intoxicating—like the fall of winter’s first snow. I wanted to share it before it melted. I had to share it . . . because I alone could help Runt.

I found Bastiaan with the horses, picking pebbles from their hooves with a bent metal tool. “Looks like it’s my turn.”

He glanced up, then held the hoof pick aloft. “I just finished. But don’t fret. Let them graze another day and you’ll have plenty to clean. Sterk here seems to attract every pebble to be found.” He patted his stallion’s rump. “If I’d known you liked doing it, I’d have saved it for you. Spare my back an ache.”

Even now, with all help refused him, Bastiaan turned my increasingly chilly heart warm. How did he maintain joy when he’d lost something so dear to him? Anyone could see the pain turning the agonized lines of his face into scars. He looked desperate. Helpless, even. Where had his confidence gone? He truly must have exhausted every avenue of thought.

I stepped into the glade and leaned against a tree. “That’s not quite what I meant.” I didn’t want to admit I had no idea a horse’s hooves needed cleaning, let alone how to clean them.

“Oh?” Bastiaan pocketed the hoof pick and turned Sterk loose to graze on the tough stems of autumn’s weeds.

“I’m sorry you lost your Talent. That was cruel of the king.”

Bastiaan’s hand fisted. “Even more reason he must be stopped. Filling up the Well of Talents and robbing people of their Talents . . .”

I couldn’t help fearing for my cousin. Did Anouk know about any of this? Did she support it? “Bastiaan . . . there’s something you don’t know about me.”

“I’d guess there are many things I don’t know about you.” He twitched a smile to show he was joking, but his body stilled the same way it had when we encountered Sven’s archers. Tense. Waiting. Maybe even hopeful?

Deep breath. “Queen Anouk is my cousin.” Cousin. Sister. Dearest friend.