“Today’s sun will melt it.” I tried to sound casual. Unworried. My hands shook.

“I’m not so sure,” Anouk said. “I couldn’t even get a block of peat from the fire woman this morning. She was swarmed by people trying to thaw out their boats or get water for washing. People are saying it’s a Talented retaliating against Prince Mattias.”

“What does the Murder Prince have to do with frozen canals?”

“Don’t call him that,” Anouk said. She was always seeing the best in people. She refused to believe the rumors about Prince Mattias killing his brothers and now likely his own father. Even though it was so obvious he was a backstabber. Now he was to be our king. “This act is likely a Talented spitting in Prince Mattias’s face for calling for a census of all Talented.”

I gripped her arm. “Anouk, it was me.” I had to confess because I didn’t know what to do. “Does Oma suspect me? Did she say anything? Has anyone brought up the Wishtress?”

She blinked. “You?”

“I used a wish.” The confession came out with a groan.

“I thought Oma forbade—”

“She did. Does. But I wanted to tell Sven before he left on the pilgrimage. And I’m finally of age and she hasn’t taught me anything. It was foolish, I know!” Stupid, stupid, stupid. And then I gave a raw wish to Sven. Hopefully he’d be wiser with his wish words than I was. “What do I do?”

“You told Sven?” Anouk’s sapphire eyes sparkled. “You were a rebel yesterday!”

I dragged a hand down my face. I didn’t want to get into the Sven details. I still felt sick about telling him, and that wasn’t how someone should feel about the person she supposedly loved. “Anouk . . . What do I do?”

“Undo it.” She shrugged. “Wish it melted again.”

It sounded so simple coming from her mouth, but every day was unpredictable. Yesterday I easily formed tears for Sven. Today . . . I sighed. “I’m a dry husk today.”

“Then do it tomorrow.” She pulled my hand from my face. “You have to do this, Myrthe. The canals can’t stay frozen. Think of the canal rats.”

Canal rats, or crats, were the abandoned, discarded orphans of the canals. Anouk and I often snuck them food parcels after Markt Day. Or during. Or before. Or whenever we could. But something in Anouk’s word choice pulled me up short. Canals.

“I thought I froze the section near our gable house . . .” But I hadn’t specified where the ice should stop. Or how long it should last. Or anything.

“There’s rumor that even the Handel Sea is frozen as it’s connected to the canals. Can you imagine the ships stuck out at sea? Trapped in the ice? You must undo this, Myrthe!”