Bastiaan squeezed his shoulder. “It’s okay, Runt. These things require procedure and discussion.” In a lower voice he muttered, “I need to look out for Myrthe. You, my cunning little crat, need to gather information.”

Runt brightened with the charge. To him, this could be approached as another adventure. Yes, Bastiaan wanted information, but more than that, he wanted Runt to enter what would undoubtedly be a new life with a forward mindset of learning. Not of resistance.

It all seemed so easy as militairen led Runt out, free of chains. No roughhousing. Bastiaan didn’t expect them to be loyal, but that wouldn’t take long.

Anouk moved to follow Runt, but a militair stepped in her way. She had a few words with him, but he gestured to the council and shook his head. With pursed lips Anouk remained in the throne room.

The council wouldn’t let anyone get into Runt’s head. That’s why they’d accepted him as the heir so swiftly: He was young. He was moldable. Their missing peg. They would have to find a king eventually—the laws of Winterune demanded it. They’d not be allowed to run the country on their own, no matter how much they desired it.

They accepted Anouk’s history, rejoiced at Mattias’s poor decisions in the past that resulted in an illegitimate heir . . . made legitimate by his hasty marriage.

The council planned to carve Runt into their puppet.

As much as Bastiaan wanted to hope Runt was stronger than that, he knew the power of time and strong voices. Eventually, the council would mold him into the king they wanted—the king they could finally control.

“Now for your testimony, Bastiaan Duur.” Hartmut waved to Anouk and nodded to Verena. Both descended the platform to stand at Bastiaan’s side.

“I’m sorry,” Anouk whispered.

“I have nothing to hide,” he said.

She lifted her hand until it was mere inches from his skin. Verena stepped forward and, to Bastiaan’s surprise, placed a hand on Anouk instead of on Bastiaan. Then Anouk touched him. He felt no change, but the tension that shocked her body made him reach out to steady her. It took mere seconds.

She released him, gasping for breath.

“What did you see?” Hartmut demanded.

“I need a moment.” Had she just seen his entire life story? All 107 years of it? Or had she selected bits and pieces that involved King Vämbat?

A chorus of pulse beats passed before she finally straightened.

“Well?” Hartmut asked.

“He’s innocent.” She sounded surprised. Bastiaan frowned and looked to Verena, who merely nodded to the council. Anouk was telling the truth?

“It is not your job to draw conclusions or make judgments. It is your job to tell us what happened.”