“It’s why you always questioned the canal rats at markt.” So many small things clicked into place. Anouk had turned to me as her very last hope.

If only Oma hadn’t used a wish to silence Anouk from asking for my help. If only I had stashed a few wishes of my own. If only I’d given Anouk a wish without her asking! I’d given Sven a wish and not Anouk. I was utterly disgusted with myself.

If I’d never gotten myself cursed, I could help Anouk. Help Runt. Help Bastiaan. Find Mutti. My determination solidified more firmly than ever. “I’m going to the Well of Talents . . . to break the curse.”

“That will work?”

I picked pieces of ice from between the dead blades of grass. “Each Wishtress has written her story in that book. Of the ones I’ve managed to read, they all end up traveling to the Well at one point or another. I think I’m supposed to go there.”

But there was nothing about breaking curses in those pages. I hoped I could be the one to write that entry.

“How will you get there?”

“Bastiaan said he’ll take me . . . after Runt is safe.”

“Well . . . this brings us back to the original reason for your letter.” Anouk fingered the hem of her dress splayed around her as though she was still unused to the finery. “I’m afraid I can do little about your friend Runt. He’s the one connection Mattias has to his father’s murderer.”

“But we don’t know that Bastiaan murdered King Vämbat. He could very well be innocent!” In all honesty I’d completely forgotten Bastiaan was suspected of murder. How could someone so kind have done something so heinous? Then again, he’d taken an order from King Mattias to hunt me down and turn me in.

Anouk opened her mouth, closed it, then released a sympathetic sigh. “Oh, Myrthe. Do you have feelings for this man? Bastiaan?”

“Feelings?” I let out a hysterical laugh. “I can’t allow myself to have feelings about anything.” That statement felt like a lie I was trying to convince myself of.

Anouk saw right through it, but her face showed pity. “He’s likely a murderer.”

So am I. “We don’t know that.”

“I’ll ask Mattias to be kind to the boy, but how can I ask him to abandon the quest of bringing his father’s killer to justice?”

“Isn’t Mattias himself a murderer?” I challenged.

Her mouth quirked up. “Call me foolish, but I don’t believe he is. He told me what happened to his brothers—and their deaths were not at his hand. There was no audience when he told me. No reason for him to lie.”

“I hope for your own happiness that he told you the truth.”