She laughed softly. She liked this boy. “You remind me of my youngest son. He was killed. Brutally. He was probably your age—eleven years old. I’m here because I want to avenge his death.”

“That’s not really an answer.”

“You don’t talk like a boy of eleven—”

“That’s because I’m ten.”

“You’re smart.” And eloquent. What had the man Bastiaan taught this child?

“You still haven’t answered me.”

This time Coralythe threw back her head and laughed—a foreign sound in such a dismal place. It strained her shoulder muscles, but she couldn’t stop herself. If she shared her story with this boy, he would see the depth. He would read between the lines because of his intelligence.

It would be refreshing to talk to someone who could see her.

“I came to the schloss several months ago to present myself to the new king. I have powers—kind of like a Talent. I offered them to King Mattias. In doing so I found we shared a common goal.”

“You sound like Bastiaan. He says Talents are for serving the king and the people.”

And that was why Bastiaan was being hunted and Coralythe still had a chance to be at the king’s right hand. “Mattias was paranoid and had me thrown in here. For a month. I was tormented and tested but didn’t bend. I knew he’d see my value eventually, and he did. He released me and allowed me to join his private council.”

“Why are you back in the dungeon then?”

“The others on his council don’t trust me, not even after he showed them something that would change their lives—change this kingdom. So he sent me back here either to test my loyalty or to appease the stiff-necked men on his council.”

Runt snorted. “That’s not very nice after you promised to serve him.”

“He has his reasons.” Even if she didn’t like them. He’d promised her a great role in the destruction of the Talents. She had to trust he’d follow through.

“What . . . sort of powers do you have?” Something deeper than curiosity instigated Runt’s question. He’d stilled as though nervous she wouldn’t answer.

Her laugh was brittle. “Nothing you’d want.”

He shook his head, seeming confused. “But Talents are to help people. They’re good.”

“As I said, it’s not quite a Talent. Have you heard of the Nightwell?” The name burned her tongue as it did when she first spoke of it to King Mattias. She wasn’t yet used to speaking openly about it.

Runt shook his head.