“I’m warning you, Mattias . . . my people. Where are they?”

“Make me a wish.” Mattias tried again, unmoved by Sven’s threat.

“I can’t.” What form of can’t did he not understand?

Mattias rounded on Coralythe. “How can she refuse me?”

Her mouth trembled as she struggled for words. But her voice remained steady and collected. “It’s likely because she’s the Wishtress. Her power is unmatched among the Talented. She does not work under the same . . . rules.”

It was that sort of mindset that put me under Oma’s thumb. The idea that I was greater than the rest, the only difference being that I was born with a Talent whereas others made the pilgrimage.

“You told me this would work,” Mattias growled.

“I . . . I thought it would.”

So Mattias’s plan had been to capture the Wishtress, force me into a Bane, and then command a wish whenever he wanted. He turned back to me. “Why won’t you serve your king?”

“If I give you a wish . . . I’ll die.”

He ground his teeth. “Elaborate.”

Coralythe sucked in a sharp breath and pursed her lips against the pressure. Her wide eyes found mine and we held each other’s gaze. A spider thread of temptation urged me to tell King Mattias about my curse. About what Coralythe had done.

But I finally saw the difference between us.

She had lost her sons, and she fought the grief by cursing me, joining the king, and bringing Banes to Fairhoven. I lost Mutti and I had a choice in how I grieved. Whether I sought revenge or a different path.

Revenge sounded nice.

But it wasn’t lasting. Coralythe appeared no happier than when I first met her. Revenge was bitter and only birthed more revenge. I was tired of hurting myself. Mutti and Bastiaan had showed me another way.

“It’s the Bane. My Talent is gone now.” My voice broke. Gone. It sounded so final. I refused to believe it was so. “I can’t use both, just the one.”

“Mattias . . .” Sven growled. He dug the spoon into my eye and I screamed. My vision went black, and my Bane flashed in my mind. I used it to wrench Sven’s arm away from my face so hard the spoon went flying from his hand.

Mattias watched me for several long seconds, perhaps to incense Sven more. He must have concluded he’d collect a wish from me a different way, because he finally rolled his eyes over to Sven. “Desperation doesn’t look good on you, Sven.”

He had the upper hand and everyone knew it. Sven was a fool to have walked right into Mattias’s hearth. The flames of danger grew.