“I don’t trust you, Bastiaan Duur.” Queen Anouk crossed her arms. “My cousin, Myrthe, tried to help you. But you were commanded by the king to hunt her down and deliver her to the schloss.”

Anouk did know more than she let on. The old worm of self-disgust knotted in his gut. “I don’t plan to deliver her to the schloss. Ever.”

Queen Anouk’s eyes narrowed. Perhaps it was unwise to tell this to the king’s wife. “A change of heart?” She sounded skeptical. Maybe even mocking.

“I call it more of an awakening.” He pictured Myrthe’s face—always switching between kind and indifferent. But even her cool indifference was not cruel. It seemed more of a defense mechanism. With her being the Wishtress, he didn’t blame her. “I’ll bring no harm to your cousin.”

“I’m glad to hear it, though I’m unconvinced—something time might change.” She folded her hands in front of her and seemed to summon her courage. “Would you be willing to take me to the Well of Talents?”

Of all the things he expected her to say, that wasn’t one of them. “I’m common.” In other words, I have no right to the Well. Was she trying to trap him with his words?

“You are Talented.”

“I was Talented.” His revelation didn’t shake her. She knew about King Mattias’s Bane.

“My point is you know the way. Myrthe trusts you. I need to get there. Soon.”

Myrthe trusted him? He shook his head clear to take in the weight of her request. Everyone wanted to get to the Well. The race now had another contestant.

She held up a sagging bag that clinked from the motion. “I can offer payment.”

Bastiaan didn’t need munten. “Why now? Why didn’t you go when you first became queen?”

“A visit to the Well was not offered to me, particularly during the uprising of those in protest.” Another ripple effect from Sven’s revolt.

“Wouldn’t King Mattias miss you at the schloss if you disappeared for a week?”

“He, too, is traveling.” Which explained why he hadn’t sent militairen after Bastiaan yet. It also meant he had a head start to the Well . . . with an army.

There was no time to waste. “Your husband is going to the Well to stopper it up. To collect the water for himself, hold it at the schloss, and use or sell it at his will.”

She didn’t seem surprised. Bastiaan’s respect for her grew. She knew how to keep knowledge private and to maintain calm when exposed.

“Why not wait for him to come home and ask for a sip of your own?” he asked. Either her quest was urgent, or she didn’t trust Mattias to give her Well water when he returned.

“You’re not giving me your answer.”