“Why?” Clearly not because she was swept off her skates by the prince’s courtship. Did she want this life?

Anouk pulled a loose thread and a portion of lace fell from her cuff. She startled as she realized what she’d done. “I hoped being queen would provide me with certain resources that would allow me to . . . well, to do things that my regular life didn’t.”

Her vagueness piqued my curiosity. Anouk had never been evasive with me before. We didn’t keep secrets from each other . . . until now, apparently. We were both hiding things.

“Oma used a wish on me.” Her hands fell limp in her lap. “Years ago.”

I stared, aghast. “Oma did what?”

“She took me in after my father’s death.” Anouk’s voice turned cold. “Without explanation, she pulled a wish from her locked trunk and said, ‘Anouk Valling shall never ask Myrthe for a wish.’ Then she splashed it on my face.”

No contract. Oma used a raw wish just as she’d commanded me again and again never to do. She was no better than Coralythe.

“I’ve spent years thinking about those words—the wish she used almost like a curse. And I finally saw a way out. I am no longer Anouk Valling. I am now Anouk Vorst.”

Dread pooled in my stomach. I sensed what was coming and a hollow panic dammed up my words. All this time—all the years of our friendship—I thought Anouk hadn’t asked me for a wish because she didn’t want to be like Oma. Because she loved me more than my Talent.

Instead, she’d been biding her time.

“Myrthe, I wouldn’t ask unless it was my last possible option.” Anouk’s voice descended into a vulnerable whisper.

I felt sick. Betrayed by my closest heart-friend.

“Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“You need a wish.” She wanted a wish so badly she’d allowed herself to marry a murderer so she could finally ask me.

Anouk expelled a long, shaky breath. “Just one. For me and me alone. Not for Mattias.”

I stared at the carpet. The idea of giving any sort of response felt as difficult as creating snow on a midsummer’s day. This was why she was so happy to see me. Why she’d tried to find Oma after our gable house burned to the ground.

“It doesn’t have to be immediate.” Wariness turned Anouk’s voice wobbly. “Take what time you nee—”

“How generous of you.” My words were winter. Frozen canals and frosted skate blades.

Shocked silence was the only reply. Anouk never expected refusal. As well she shouldn’t, because for years I would have handed her a wish—ten wishes, even—without thought.

But now she’d shown her true colors.

“I’d pay, of course.” Something in Anouk’s tone hardened. “Handsomely.”