I strode forward and unfolded the parchment. It was larger than I expected and far more detailed. For a moment I was tempted to lose myself in its flowing curves of mountain ranges and the spiderweb map of canals I’d only ever studied with the path of my skates. I scanned until I saw the Well of Talents.

North. Tucked away in a lone mountain peak. The canals stretched almost the entire way there. I wouldn’t need to walk—I could skate.

I folded up the map and shoved it into my own shirt, followed by the Wishtress journal.

“Hey, you can’t take that.”

I walked to the tent door, giving him a wide berth. “You said it’s all locked away in your head. You were a royal cartographer for a time. By your own words and actions, you don’t need the map anymore.”

“You’re abandoning us?” He was doing it again. If Anouk hadn’t pointed out my weakness for helping others beyond my own safety, maybe I wouldn’t have noticed. But Sven had seen it and used it against me.

“I’m saving everyone the only way I know how.” I didn’t elaborate—that was all the explanation he deserved. If all went well, I’d get to the Well before any sort of war or skirmish broke out between Sven’s followers and Mattias’s militairen. I’d break the curse. I’d live and I’d fix everything.

“Does my love for you mean nothing?”

“You and I have very different definitions of love, Sven.” While I couldn’t claim to know if I’d ever truly loved him, I’d at least tried. Maybe he tried, too, but nothing between us ever reached heart level. Now that I was cursed, I couldn’t allow myself to go heart level with anyone or anything. I was safer that way.

I walked through the tent flaps but made it barely two steps before fingers grabbed my upper arm with a grip of fire. “You’re not leaving,” Sven growled in my ear, more wolf than man.

I tried to tug away from him, but his grip tightened. “That hurts!” I exclaimed, not bothering to keep my voice low. A few people sat up from their beds of warmed stones.

“Get in the tent, Wishtress.” I’d never seen him like this. Gritted teeth and anger so black a moonless night would have cowered from him.

“No.” I tried to sound strong, but my refusal came as a mere breath.

People rose from their beds now, drawing closer. Curious. Hungry.

Sven tried to steer me back to the tent, but I dug my heels in. It sent a shard of pain up my left leg, which crumpled. Sven was going to force me. And he’d win. He had an entire loyal following who would help him, if only to keep the wishes in their possession.

Wishes.