Coralythe took a deep breath, then obeyed. With each inhale she seemed to gather strength and composure.

I stepped deeper into the tent, nerves gripped in my fists. Where was I supposed to stand? Was Oma going to instruct me? Was I supposed to ask Coralythe questions?

“What is it you want?” Oma asked.

“I heard . . . wishes,” Coralythe breathed.

“Where did you hear that?” I asked. Oma shot me a silencing glare. I clamped my lips shut, but the question was already asked. Had Sven told this woman?

“A wealthy man. This morning. He didn’t say anything outright, but I made some assumptions.”

Oma muttered a curse. “I should have used a stronger bind on that one.”

Bind? What was a bind? I forced a deep breath. Don’t worry. You’ll learn. Oma would teach me—she promised. This was the first step.

I was in the tent. During a transaction. For the first time.

Oma remained before the ragged woman, arms folded and a stare hard as iron. Waiting.

This was all the opening Coralythe needed. “I beg of you, have mercy. My boys.” Her voice broke. “My two sons were”—she wrapped a piece of her shredded sleeve around her knuckles, tightening and loosening and tightening again—“murdered,” she managed, though it seemed to cost her every ounce of energy. Then she screamed an unearthly shriek. “Killed with no cause! Mere boys!”

I flinched. Oma didn’t even twitch. “Wishes cannot bring back the dead.”

Coralythe’s head swayed from side to side and she closed her eyes. “I know this. I wish only to find their murderer. To ask . . . why. Why they killed my boys.”

“For revenge?” Oma lifted an eyebrow. How she maintained such stoicism when faced with raw emotion, I couldn’t guess.

“Of course I wish revenge upon them! If they would murder my children—neither one older than twelve springs—what other children might they target? This killer was a Talented.” Coralythe slammed a palm on the table. “It could be the same person who murdered the king!”

“If that’s the case,” Oma said, “it’s not up to you to deliver justice.”

“Is it up to you to deny me?” Coralythe must’ve realized she wouldn’t win this standoff against Oma. “I want to find the one who murdered my children.”

Oma gave a single curt nod. “I empathize with you. But wishes are no small fee.”

Trembling, Coralythe withdrew a leather bag from within her torn gown. The clink of coins was the lone sound in the tent as she placed it on the table. “It’s not much . . .”

“It’s not enough.”

“Oma,” I whispered, but Oma cut me off with the swipe of a hand.

“I . . . I also have this.” Coralythe placed a tangled necklace beside the bag. “The chain is gold . . .” But Oma was already shaking her head. Coralythe’s trembling increased. “Please. Have mercy.”