“I told them what they needed to hear in order to keep Runt alive. I will teach him everything I know. I will care for him like a son.”

Anouk fumbled for the edge of the dresser and gripped its corner until her knuckles turned white. So. Weak. Then she turned to Runt and her voice came out impressively calm. “Do you know what Coralythe has done?”

Chills swept over Coralythe’s arms. “Stop.”

“She’s the one who released the Nightwell,” Runt said. “I know.”

“And she’s been on King Mattias’s team since the beginning of his reign,” Anouk finished.

“Get out.” Coralythe advanced on Anouk, but Runt stepped between them and drew a line of blood on the carpet. Coralythe hit an unseen barrier. Her hand flew to her forehead.

Runt held his ragged key aloft—the tool with which he must have pricked his finger. “Leave her alone.”

“I’m not going to harm her, Runt. She shouldn’t even be in here. This is supposed to be a time for me to answer your questions, for us to talk about your future. Get to know each other.”

“She belongs here.” He pressed against Anouk’s side. “She’s my mother.”

Anouk bit her lip and hesitantly put an arm around Runt’s shoulders. He wasn’t cowering behind her. He was at her side as if he were a grown man protecting his family. Could his loyalty be claimed so quickly? With a single announcement of his heritage?

“She’s a child! She doesn’t know how to be a mother!” Why would he suddenly be so loyal to Anouk after what he and Coralythe went through together in the dungeon? “The council won’t let Anouk stay. Not with you. Maybe not even in the schloss. If you want to be king—if you want to help the people you love—then you’ll let me come alongside you until you’re of ruling age.”

Runt glanced between Anouk and Coralythe. Was he trying to decide who to choose? She couldn’t make him pick one or the other—she didn’t have enough leverage for that.

“I’ll ask the council to allow Anouk to stay in the schloss. They trust me. But she has no power right now, Runt. I do. You and I can work together to help her. Help you. Help everyone.”

“Help Bastiaan? Help Myrthe?”

“Of course.” He didn’t need to know she was the one who cursed Myrthe in the first place.

“Bastiaan’s been sentenced to death,” Anouk said softly. “The council voted. It’s happening at sunrise.”

“What?” Runt squawked. He snapped his gaze to Coralythe. “Can you stop that? Stop them?”

“I can try.” She wouldn’t. Bastiaan was the biggest wrench in all her plans—he had Runt’s deepest loyalty. Once he was dead Runt would be broken. And she’d step in as the caulk.