“This is not about mercy. It is about the cost of a wish.”

I felt sick. The wish cost Oma nothing. It was a tear from my emotions. This was all a facade—an act to make wishes seem rarer than they were. And where did that munten even go? We didn’t need it, not at the cost of this woman’s sanity over the brutal murder of her two sons.

“Myrthe will see you out.” Oma gestured toward the tent flap, but Coralythe gripped the sides of her chair to cement herself in place. Tears left trails down the mud on her face.

“Wait. Please.” Her eyes, wide and unsure, darted between the two of us before eyeing the doorway. “I can offer one last thing.”

Oma lifted an eyebrow.

“A . . . a curse on your enemies.”

Oma let out a cry. “You have a Bane?”

I went cold inside. Banes were gained from the Nightwell—the antithesis of the Well of Talents. Banes were rumored to only ever cause harm. But how would she get a Bane? All the maps to the two Wells had been destroyed over a decade ago.

Apparently Coralythe had found it. And her Bane let her curse someone. Was that why she wanted the wish? To curse her sons’ murderer?

“I’ve not used my power in years.” Coralythe tried to backtrack. “Not since before my sons were born. If you don’t want a curse, I can give you—any of you—a Bane instead. A power of your own!”

A twofold power? How was that possible?

“A curse and a Bane are the same thing in my mind,” Oma said.

“But they’re not. One will harm you, but the other can benefit you. I’m offering you a gift!”

“You entered the waters of the Nightwell.” Oma boarded up her heart and sympathy like shutters slammed closed against a snowstorm. “That’s an abomination—a danger to our lands.”

“I don’t use my Bane, I say! I was birthed in the Nightwell waters. I never searched them out. My mother forced the Bane upon me as a babe. It was not my choice!”

My heart lurched in empathy. Like my Wishtress Talent, she had been born with it. It had been no choice of mine either. What if I had been like Coralythe and born with a Bane instead of a Talent? How much more would I suffer shame and confusion?

“You offer a curse as payment for a wish—as though the exchange is equal.”

I could bear it no more. I stepped forward. “Keep your curse and keep your jewelry. Your coins are enough.”

Oma moved into my line of sight. “Stop this nonsense.”

“I have a vote in this matter just as you. She’s a mother whose heart has been torn by cruel fate. If we can’t give a wish to her, who are the wishes for?”