Sven clamped a hand over my mouth, but my echo still bounced between the rocks. His eyes flicked toward the gathered people. He turned back to me, and I hardly recognized him beneath his twisted snarl.

“You disgust me.” He released me and wiped his hands on his coat, ridding himself of the very act of touching me.

I snorted. “What a mood change you’ve had since declaring your love a few nights ago.”

“I never loved you, Myrthe. Not even at the beginning. Anouk was far superior to you—even without a Talent. I’d hoped that pursuing you would make her jealous. You’ve only ever been a means to an end.”

Though I’d suspected this, it didn’t make it hurt any less to hear it from his lips—lips that kissed me many a time after declaring sweet promises.

I wanted him gone. Or more: silenced. Instead of crumbling from his words, I wanted to hurt him back. “At least I know what I am—my flaws and weaknesses. Your followers lap up your words like a dish of honey but don’t realize you’re all manure beneath the surface.”

Something akin to regret crossed over his expression. He stepped right up to me and looked into my face. For a moment I thought maybe he would apologize. “You got yourself cursed. My followers have to destroy the Trials on their own.”

“Don’t you mean you have to destroy them? Or are you too much of a coward? Like last time.” He would make them do his dirty work and then take the glory.

“You think you’ll survive them?” He laughed—a dead, angry sound. “Well, someone’s got to go first. It might as well be you. Prove yourself useful for once.”

He shoved me backward into the first Trial.

Chapter 40
Bastiaan

The scout who stopped Bastiaan was the same one he’d encountered in the forest with Myrthe. The same one whose arrowhead he’d severed from its shaft with his disc. Luuk.

“Are you really going to try to stop me?” Bastiaan growled.

Luuk stepped aside. “It’s not like you can put us in a worse situation than we’re already in.”

What did that mean? Did they learn what King Mattias was doing?

Bastiaan scanned the camp, passing over the unfamiliar eyes or dark heads. When his gaze moved over Sven twice, he realized Myrthe was nowhere in sight.

Sven stood before the people giving another one of his speeches. That man and his words . . . and his face. People followed him for it. Bastiaan was still waiting to see the actions line up. The Trials would likely bring them out, and his future-telling Talent would only take him so far.

At least Sven had made it through the Trials once before. That gave him an edge they desperately needed.

And it was more than Bastiaan had ever done.