He finished supper, then refilled his pack for travel: a hatchet with a leather sheath strapped over the blade, his skates should he need activity to get his muscles warm, and rabbit fur gloves. He also packed a drawstring bag of heetmoss, a little plant he’d discovered during his travels the last time he was in the Stillness. When crushed, the moss emitted heat that lasted a bell toll yet didn’t quite burn the skin. Useless for starting fires but handy when fingers and toes started to succumb to frostbite.

Runt hardly looked at him. Even though Bastiaan was doing this for him, it didn’t feel right. “Runt, if you don’t want me to go, I’ll stay.”

It went against his every instinct to allow King Mattias to waltz to the Well and stopper it. Especially when Bastiaan suspected a much larger game was at play.

“I liked it better when you had a snap,” Runt grouched. “You’d pause time and then a second later you’d reappear within a few feet from where you left, even if you’d been gone thirty-two years.”

“A sour attitude isn’t going to help you heal any faster,” Mother said with a light swat on the boy’s shoulder.

“Neither is a chipper one,” Runt grumbled.

Mother handed Bastiaan the sack of food. “Best get going before any schloss militairen get here to arrest you.”

“If they’d known I was here, they’d have arrived alread—”

A knock on the door lodged Bastiaan’s final word in his throat. He glanced at the window. Night had fallen. They were expecting no one. Yet militairen didn’t knock.

Mother stood firm by Runt’s side, leaving Bastiaan to answer. If it was militairen, they would have Bastiaan whether he answered the door or hid on the top level. He set his pack beneath the spiral staircase as deep in the shadow as he could, then opened the door.

Snowflakes speckled the midnight hair of a figure who stepped into the light from the door.

Weather and woods, what was she doing here?

Bastiaan stepped aside with a sweep of his arm. “Queen Anouk . . . please, come in.”

Chapter 34
Bastiaan

Queen Anouk entered and Windmill Cottage swelled with pride. A female attendant entered after her. Bastiaan peered into the darkness. Two horses huddled against the wind.

“There’s no one else.” Queen Anouk stepped around him.

Runt perked up. “Hey, Queenie!”

She smiled. “Hello, Runt.”

Well, weren’t those two chummy. Trust Runt to be so casual after nothing more than a brief conversation with the queen in the schloss mere days ago.

“I’ll stable your horses from the snow,” Bastiaan choked out, then stumbled into the storm. No militairen? Not even one for her protection? How did she get here? Why did she come? What did she want?