I stumbled aside. Bastiaan reached our side moments later, but Runt was already pouring the viscous liquid onto the shackles encircling Anouk’s wrists.

“What is th—?” Bastiaan asked.

The chain disintegrated and the remaining links clanged to the floor. Runt poured the rest on the shackles at her ankles. “It’s Luuk’s spit!”

“Runt!” I exclaimed as the final shackle turned to dust. “You could have . . . That could have disintegrated Anouk!”

“I was pretty careful.” He threw the leaf into a corner.

“But how did you carry it in a leaf without the leaf turning to dust?”

“Luuk held the leaf. If he spits on something he’s touching, it won’t fall apart.”

I didn’t ask how he convinced Luuk to give him his deadly Bane saliva, especially with Luuk still serving his Bane over his Talent.

Bastiaan helped Anouk to a standing position. “Time to go.”

“Look out!” Runt dropped to the ground and swept his muddied hand over the marble, forming a line in front of us. Arrows directed at our heads pinged off the invisible shield.

King Mattias marched into the room with a line of militairen armed with fresh bows and arrows. A smear of blood painted one half of his face. A small cluster of militairen held a fuming Sven.

Runt nicked his finger on a rough piece of chain and used the blood to make a shield from wall to wall, curving around us and securing us in a cocoon of safety.

But also in a trap. There was no door out.

Mattias walked through the room, touching Talented as he passed. Their Talents went silent under the destruction of his Bane, as Bastiaan’s once had. As their powers quieted, militairen sent arrows into their chests.

“No!” I screamed.

Talented dropped, their blood painting the marble floor. Some ran. Few made it out alive.

Those with Banes abandoned the now-won battle and turned toward their king, awaiting his new orders. But he gave none.

It seemed they could be compelled to obey him only if he voiced his commands to their face.

A new man stepped forward. He faced the Baned.

“I am Baron Hartmut, the acting spokesperson for the king until he regains his voice.”

King Mattias’s eye twitched at Hartmut’s words. His power to control them was gone. Even though Hartmut was the king’s voice, he had no sway over those with Banes.

Hedy’s attack on the king held fast, even though she’d died. “Why didn’t her Bane wear off?” I asked Bastiaan quietly.

“It affected him physically. It’s the same as if she cut him or stabbed him—her death wouldn’t undo that.”