Bastiaan stepped in front of me so the arrow now had him in its sights.

“That’s not how this is, Myrthe!” Sven’s fury burst out, a contrast to the calm he’d shown moments before. “Your final wish could save all these people! My people who are now being marched back to the king to be tortured and killed. Or worse, controlled. You, of all people, should know how wretched that feels. Except you did it willingly. They won’t have a choice.”

I flinched.

“A wish from you could bring Talents to all of Winterune. It could dethrone Mattias! It could put a stop to all this evil.”

“That’s a long way of saying yes, you want her to die,” Bastiaan ground out.

“If threatening her life won’t bring forth the tear, maybe threatening his will,” Hedy whispered to Sven.

I tried to push past Bastiaan, but my skates found little purchase. “Stop this.” I could handle a threat against myself. But not him. Not because I didn’t believe Bastiaan could defend himself. But because I had little doubt Hedy would follow through on the threat.

“If you so much as twitch, Bastiaan, I’ll release this arrow and I guarantee it’ll hit one of you.”

“Sven, this is absurd! Do you even hear yourself? See yourself?” How had I ever kissed this boy? Or thought I loved him, even for a brief time?

He wasn’t the same person. That’s how. Perhaps this darkness had been tucked deep inside him all along and the lust for power had brought it to the surface.

“I’ve become someone who’s willing to put the lives and well-being of others above taking the easy road.”

“Oh, so letting me live is the easy road?” I asked, surprised to hear my voice come out so calm. He would shoot me—rather, he would allow Hedy to shoot me. Or Bastiaan. All to claim my last wish.

Bastiaan took my hand in his, dropping his gloves to the ground. My own hand trembled. His didn’t. His steadiness calmed me.

“If you kill Myrthe now, you’ll have to use her wish to get you through the next three Trials. But if you wait for us to defeat the other Trials, you can use it to save your people.”

Sven seemed to consider this. Hedy had far less patience. “Well?” she hissed, sounding like she wanted to shoot. Wanted to see Bastiaan fall to the ground with an arrow in his temple or me collapse in tears and die by my own curse. Who was this woman?

If I continued to harden my heart, would I become like Hedy?

I’d rather die.

“Does she even know how to cry anymore?” Sven muttered. “She’s become a monster.” Then a wicked gleam flickered in his eye and he addressed Bastiaan. “Do you know why Myrthe is cursed?”