As swiftly as the thought entered my mind, an understanding of my Bane surfaced. I could control only one person at a time. Coralythe was already gone, so my gaze landed on the militairen. There were half a dozen of them.

If I turned their leader against them, perhaps I could escape.

Wait. How had this so easily become a consideration? Using my Bane was not an option.

Then again, neither was using my Talent. Because of my curse. Not until I had my voice back. Then I could save Bastiaan.

My eyes slid to Hedy. I knew what I needed to do.

“Hurry up,” a militair said. I made sure to splash him as I clambered over the edge.

This game Mattias and Sven were playing would be the death of Bastiaan. I could use my Bane. Just once.

Bastiaan wouldn’t approve. But he’d never had a Bane. He didn’t realize the doors it opened. Or the way it would free me in this moment. Would he really argue if I used it to save him?

We entered the kleinschloss and my eyes relaxed against the wave of light, no longer straining for clarity. The militairen thrust me into a high-ceilinged meeting room of sorts.

In the corner sat a woman with her head bowed. Stringy hair concealed her face. Chains were roughly nailed into the stone wall, keeping her wrists elevated. More shackles constrained her ankles, but she didn’t look like one to put up such a fight. Militairen stood on each side of her. She peered up at the noise of our entrance. Dark hair fell to the side, revealing tanned skin. A new mark on her cheek seemed like a bruise.

Anouk.

I would have shouted had my voice worked. What was my cousin doing here? How?

Anouk nodded briefly toward the king. Mattias stood in discussion with several men over a table of unfurled parchments weighted down with stones. Mattias did this to her? There was only one reason he’d display his own wife in such a shameful and violent way: He wanted everyone to know that no one was above his wrath . . . or his control.

Mattias continued his conversation, making it clear that Sven was little more than a gnat in his agenda.

This was my chance while the king was distracted.

Sven glowered and stepped up to my side, then gripped my arm as though he still had control over this situation. Hedy cowered in Sven’s shadow. She’d lost her fire. Lost her strength—all to the scythe of fear. She feared the king’s control over her—feared what he’d use her to do.

What she wasn’t prepared for was my control.