“Alas, no, but I have faith that someone who joins me—who follows me to the Well—will receive a Talent that can.” Sven searched the crowd as though he’d be able to spot the lucky one by sight alone.

Someone bumped Bastiaan from behind. His hand went to his pockets to check for his coin purse and weaponry. Still there. It’d be easy to empty someone’s pockets in a crowd like this. He was jostled a second time and noticed the source.

Schloss militairen wove through the crowd, swords at their belts. Purposeful but not forceful. Bastiaan could warn Sven. Instead, he waited to see what the man would do.

“Why allow Prince Mattias to lead us when he doesn’t even value us?” Sven said.

The militairen reached the inner circle. Sven spotted them and pointed a defiant finger. “You have no authority over me! By the laws of Winterune and our capital, Fairhoven, Prince Mattias has no authority over the people or their pilgrimages until he is crowned king.”

The militairen held up their palms in a calming gesture, seemingly amused by Sven’s vehemence. “We come as escorts. The prince desires an audience with you.”

Sven stilled atop his crate. “This . . . is a request then?”

“Indeed,” the taller of the two militairen affirmed.

“Then you can tell the Murder Prince thank you but no. I will not see him.” Many in the crowd gasped. Some cheered. “He’s not yet my king. He’s not my friend. And until he agrees to allow commoners access to the Well of Talents, he is my enemy!”

The militairen’s faces turned to stone. Diplomatic, Sven was not. But he was effective. He’d delivered the same message to Prince Mattias that Bastiaan had hoped to, except Sven’s defiant words would likely result in Mattias’s anger. Whereas Bastiaan hoped to discuss the matter with logic and respect.

The Well had always been a topic of sensitivity to both the king and his subjects. No one fully understood the magic its waters held or who that magic belonged to. All maps displaying its location had been burned during a madman’s slaughter of Fairhoven’s cartographers. Bastiaan had spent many years searching for and studying the Well extensively. One thing had always been clear—Talents were meant to serve others. To serve the king in order to help him serve the people.

Many kings before Vämbat had viewed the Well as one of their tools—to use against or for the people. The commonfolk started resisting. And now they were finally at the crux of what was about to become an all-out war. After the freezing of Canal Vier, what did they have to lose?