“The scout is dead.” I planted myself at Sven’s side, cutting him off midword. I had a difficult time keeping disdain out of my voice. But why be polite when kindness made me soft and anger made me hard? Hard meant alive. “You should have been there, Sven.”

He turned away from Hedy and faced me. “Been where?”

“With Bastiaan . . . heading off that scout and protecting these people.”

He hardly blinked. “Why was I needed? You went with him.”

Hedy pursed her lips and moved to help Kees tie the canvas together, but I could see the strain in her muscles as she tried to listen in.

“I’m not the leader of this rebellion,” I hissed.

“But you”—he spotted Hedy and lowered his voice—“you are unstoppable.” A compliment delivered on a cold stone platter. He wasn’t proud of me. He was annoyed that I’d gone after Bastiaan. Did he think I used a wish to kill the scout?

The assumptions he made about my Talent told me exactly how he thought Talents should be used . . . and what he might do if I gave him another wish. Somehow I knew that even if I could grant his request, he wouldn’t stop with one.

“So where’s your hero?” he asked.

“I have no hero.” Not Bastiaan, not Sven. “But if you’re talking about Bastiaan, he took Runt back to Fairhoven city for a healer. The boy was shot and may die.”

“Why didn’t you save the kid?” A challenge. Again.

I needed to ease up. I could argue with Sven after I had a copy of his map. I swallowed my retort and laid a hand gently on his arm. “Wishes are not that simple. And I never told Bastiaan I’m the Wishtress.” The sweetness in my voice twisted my stomach like arsenic and honey. It wasn’t a lie—Bastiaan had figured it out on his own. But my words had the necessary effect.

Sven relaxed. “You have no idea how happy that makes me.” His thick whisper sent hot breath against my cheek. I promptly put more distance between us.

A few yards away, Hedy eyed us, her neck flushed. People had gone from stuffing their packs to milling around, waiting for Sven. “We’re leaving to go to the Well.”

“I know.” And I was counting on him consulting his map.

“It’s going to be a rough journey on foot.”

I frowned. “Don’t you have a horse?”

“I’m not thinking about myself.”