Cold fear gripped my core. Did Hedy finish the job after I’d gone unconscious? So much blood . . . Bastiaan didn’t have long. My pulse pounded in my throat and memories replayed. The arrow going through his body. His plea for me to save my wish.

He’d sounded so . . . helpless.

Bastiaan, who could do anything. Escape the king, defeat bowmen, learn everything about Talents, save his mother, raise a canal rat . . . He couldn’t stop Hedy’s arrow.

I’d allowed him into my heart—the first voice to speak to my soul since my curse. I wanted to be with him—needed to be with him. As long as he’d have me. Even if he wouldn’t, I had to give him life.

Because that was love. Beyond infatuation. It was action. It was an action of the heart, of the mind. Of forgiveness and grace and seeing one another. He’d given that to me, and I was determined to live long enough to give it back to him.

Kees emerged from the trees leading two horses. “They were still there. Mattias’s men left ’em.”

“Small favors.” Hedy popped her neck and took the reins of one of the horses.

I caught Kees’s gaze, desperate for an answer. Is Bastiaan alive? Did you leave him alive? He dropped his eyes to the ground. Ashamed?

If they left him breathing, he’d hold on as long as he could. Courage was Bastiaan’s way.

“We’re almost to the kleinschloss,” Sven said. “Mattias received our message of parley. He’ll see us, but he’ll likely be surrounded by militairen. Our new goal is to get Hedy close enough to him.”

Kleinschloss. Mattias was in a small palace? I’d pictured him out in the forest with his soldiers—like Sven and his crew. How foolish of me to think he’d been on an equal playing field.

When had the kleinschloss been built? And for what reason? Had it been built for the king to visit the Nightwell or the Well of Talents? Or maybe both. I would ask Bastiaan—

My thoughts screeched to a painful halt. I couldn’t ask him. Might never ask him.

No. I will. I would ask him once I healed him. Except I’d be dead. Winter’s breath.

“I’ve seen the future,” Sven continued. “None of us will be killed.”

Hedy pounded her chest with her fist. She ate his words like honey off a comb. For the first time I really appreciated—with disgust—Sven’s level of manipulation and control.

“We have something the king wants,” Sven said. Hedy gave a dark, low laugh. “If he wants the Wishtress, he’ll have to give our people back.”