My Bane swelled at my calling. It tasted of forbidden relief. I wanted to use it but also didn’t want it near me. But I could handle the discomfort. For Bastiaan. This was a small price to pay. If he disapproved of my choice, well . . . at least he’d be alive to disapprove.

The Bane nodded its agreement, interacting with my mind far more than my Talent ever had. So I gave it its first command. Give me control over Hedy’s body.

Hedy’s head snapped my direction. Eyes wide. She knew. She felt something.

Good.

I salted my smile with malice. Then with a few pointed thoughts, I puppeteered Hedy’s body ever so slowly in my direction. Foot over foot. Scoot by scoot. The control came naturally, like I’d had this Bane my entire life.

I felt Hedy’s futile resistance, which made the control all the sweeter.

If I’d had this Bane a few hours ago at the Well, I could have stopped her from shooting Bastiaan. Stopped her from cutting off his finger.

Hedy whimpered. Her fingers stretched backward away from her palms. Cracking and straining. Her pinkie finger snapped. Hedy cried out and I startled, releasing her.

Hedy cradled her hand to her chest. Regret clawed at my throat. This was wrong.

But Hedy deserved it. She had no right to functioning appendages when all she did was use them to cause pain. I had to finish what I’d started. I resumed control and Hedy slid to my side, jaw clenched.

Please work.

Hedy lifted her right hand—the one with the Bane mist—and touched that same finger to my mouth.

My voice returned with a punch to the throat.

Free. I was free. Free to speak. Free to cry a wish and use it for Bastiaan. I let Hedy go, and she darted back to Sven, tucking her hand with the broken pinkie into the other hand. Now . . . to cry—

“Very good.” King Mattias clapped. Slow but proud.

I surfaced from the intoxication of my power to a silent room, eyes on me. Purple smoke tendrils floated around me and sank back into my skin. My Bane had been visible that whole time? Did his ability to control Banes show him that?

“At last we meet.”

Sven must have thought the king was talking to him, because he thrust me forward despite being a captive himself. “The Wishtress for my people.”

He pressed something cold and metal against my eye. Where had he gotten a weapon? I flinched away and got a brief glimpse of the tool before he pressed it against my eye once more.

“A spoon.” King Mattias sounded amused. “How quaint.”

A door to the right opened and Coralythe strode in, accompanied by a militair.