“Bastiaan!” A small form skipped through the confusion toward Bastiaan and me. Covered in blood but face shining. “I have a Talent!”

Runt’s voice was the lone sound over the courtyard. Still-stunned militairen watched him move unhindered and delighted to Bastiaan’s side. He gasped for breath but spewed words faster than he could inhale them.

“This big cloud showed up in the middle of the battle and knocked everybody down, and I heard a voice in my head and it was the Well of Talents talking to me! To me! And it gave me a Talent and all I had to do was choose it instead of my Bane!”

All he had to do. I loved how easy he made it sound. In truth it was a simple concept. For Runt it had taken very little to abandon control of the Bane. I prayed the choice was the same for many, many others.

“Look what I can do! The Well explained the whole thing!” He drew a line in the mud between Bastiaan and him. “Throw something at me.”

Bastiaan tossed a pebble Runt’s way. It struck an invisible wall, directly where the line rested, as though it were a closed door of glass. Runt cackled. Bastiaan stared at the air in awe. He reached out a hand and his fingers crumpled against the invisible barrier.

“Now try!” Runt rubbed his foot over the line. Bastiaan’s hand passed through the air. The barrier was gone. “I can protect people! I can make invisible shields! Just by drawing lines! I can use dirt or blood!” Runt danced a jig. “If what the Well told me is true, the shield can stay up for hours!”

“Amazing,” Bastiaan breathed.

Runt turned somber. “I’m sorry I tried to kill you.”

I snapped my gaze to Runt. “You what?”

“The militairen found me and Anouk and took us to the king. All he had to do was tell me what to do and I couldn’t help but do it! It was almost like I wanted to do it, but I didn’t like it.” He shook his head, his eyes shining. “I’m . . . sorry.”

“I never should have left you and Anouk in the first place,” Bastiaan said. “No. More than that. I should have taken you to the Well of Talents years ago.”

A few militairen rose from the ground, the shine of their new Talent Marks fading. Their trance of shock ebbing away. Some turned to face Bastiaan and me. Were they still loyal to King Mattias, or had they decided to give the Well sovereignty over their wills?

“We should go,” Bastiaan muttered.