But were we the same? He meant to murder. Mine was unintentional. What man could snuff the life from another and go on living with himself?

“Why?” Why did you kill him? Why did you bring him into the Stillness? Why did you tell me? I let him choose which way to take the question.

But I wanted all the answers.

“I thought if I could get him alone I could convince him to open the Well of Talents to the commonfolk. To get rid of the Trials and make the Well accessible to all. I thought we’d be in the Stillness a week. Maybe a month. But he refused to give in.”

“Why wouldn’t he lie and say yes so you would start time again?”

“That wasn’t his way.” This statement hinted at affection for the king. A relationship. Something beyond the cold ownership of his assassination. “We had a lot of discussions. Endless discussions where we refused to agree on anything. He seemed amused by my determination—almost like it was a game to him. We entered a stalemate. He wouldn’t change his mind and I wouldn’t restart time. Each of us waiting for the other to cave. So to pass the time he started teaching me.”

“About his reasons?”

“About everything. The kingdom, politics, neighboring kingdoms, fighting techniques. I didn’t know why he would do that. It made me more skilled. More powerful and knowledgeable. I think he was trying to gain loyalty—befriend me to the point that I would give in. Everything I learned—disc throwing and archery, the layout of the schloss—was from him. He even taught me about relationships and leading the people. I started to see a goodness in him I didn’t know existed before. Maybe it was new to him too.”

It was like hearing an aged man tell his life story . . . except it was coming from Bastiaan’s lips. His youth was a mask over a wrinkled soul.

“We entered a rhythm and an impasse for so long that it became an afterthought. We traveled the world, Myrthe. He wanted to see other kingdoms—to learn about them. We visited the Well of Talents countless times, researched it together, and studied the Nightwell. I think he enjoyed being able to do all these things that being the king of Winterune didn’t allow him to do.”

Winter’s breath. Bastiaan had lived half a lifetime with one other person. No wonder he “needed practice” with conversation when we’d first met.