She searched for the Talent Mark and cringed when she found it dotting his fingertips. Curse Bastiaan Duur! No matter. Over time she could get Runt to choose his Bane again. But she needed to be careful—especially in this moment. If Runt found out she was working for the council, he’d never let her train him as the next king. His cooperation was everything. It was the only way the council would let her stay on. Stay alive.

“Don’t give your Talent power. Talents are selfish. Don’t let it draw you in—your Bane is something you can control and use when needed.” Stop. She needed to stop before her irritation got the best of her. “The Well of Talents never should have been released. It has brought confusion to the people.”

“Well, I like my Talent—and the voice of the Well—a lot more.” He frowned. “Didn’t you get a Talent when the mist hit?” He peered around her. “Where’s your Talent Mark? What was it? Did you try it out?”

She stiffened. “I don’t want it. I’ve properly silenced it. Something you need to work at as well.”

A soft knock sounded on the chamber door. Who was daring to interrupt? This was her time with Runt, and she hadn’t even begun to discuss his future.

The knock repeated, this time with a voice. “Runt?” Soft. Gentle.

“That’s Anouk!” He rushed to the door.

“Don’t—” Coralythe reached for him with no real intention of physically restraining him.

He fitted his makeshift key into the lock and swung the door open. “Queenie!”

Anouk appeared pleasantly startled. “It was unlocked?”

“By me!” He swept an arm. “Come join the party.”

Anouk stepped inside and he locked the door after her, not missing a detail. “Thank you for letting me in—” Anouk saw Coralythe and her eyes hardened. “What are you doing here, Coralythe?”

“I’m here to train the heir to the throne.”

“You have no right to that role.”

“Actually, I do. If not for me, the council was going to slit his throat in that dungeon cell.”

Anouk paled, gripping Runt’s arm as though she could protect him more than Coralythe could. What did Anouk have? Some weak Talent that read people’s histories. Coralythe could actually do things—stop people. Kill threats. Protect Runt.

“What do you mean?” Anouk demanded.

“The council never wanted an heir. They’d rather have the throne. But I made sure to point out that Runt is young. He needs training.” She would go on, but she didn’t want Runt to catch her implications.

Unfortunately, Anouk didn’t seem to have the same desire to protect Runt from unpleasant knowledge. “You mean they want to control him. What did you do? Tell them you’d raise him up in their ways? To be an obedient puppet?”