But telling her of the curse would include telling her of the death of Coralythe’s sons. I deserved to be imprisoned. Tried. Executed. Could I expect Anouk—as a new queen—to keep a secret like that? Additionally, to tell of the curse would be to reveal Coralythe as having a Bane. Mattias the Murder King would send for her, question her . . . maybe even imprison her.

I couldn’t do that to Coralythe because I didn’t blame her. I deserved the curse.

“Myrthe!”

We’d hardly passed through a doorway into a glass-domed room of potted dirt and wilting plants when Anouk rushed to my side. The militair stopped immediately, bowed, and backed from the room. He closed the door behind him, where I assumed he’d be standing guard . . . and possibly listening in.

Anouk wore an intricately layered silver floor-length gown and her dark hair hung in loose curls around her face. I almost didn’t recognize her, but a burst of relief sent me into her arms. The embrace was normal, familiar, and as comforting as ever.

We broke apart after a long moment. Then Anouk led me to a stone bench near the back of the room, so close to the glass it was as though we were outside except without the cold or the breeze. This space might have been a beautiful topiary once, but I assumed the dry dirt and wilted seedlings were results of the water shortage. My foolish wish.

I didn’t look at them again.

A fire crackled in a stone fireplace that rose alone in the middle of a multipaned glass wall. That was where the summerlike heat came from. A small luncheon awaited us on porcelain and silver dishes beside the bench with more items of cutlery than I’d ever seen.

“It was the only place I could think of where we wouldn’t be overheard,” Anouk said.

“It’s very pretty.” My voice sounded hollow. Why? Because this setting was so different from any place Anouk and I had ever occupied before—not merely the location, but the situation. Where did I start? What did I say?

“I tried to contact you so many times after they set fire to Oma’s gable house.” Anouk took both my hands in hers. “But there was no way to find you. Oma left no word, which was safest for you. But . . . I feared for you. Myrthe, are you well?”

“As well as could be hoped.”

“You shouldn’t have come here. It’s so dangerous. I would have met you somewhere—anywhere. You’re wanted.”

“I saw.” Anouk’s own husband had issued the order. I hardly understood her decisions since I was cursed. It felt like I faced a stranger. I needed to understand. “Oma told me of your marriage to the Murder King.”