So he lied. “Immediate transportation to a location of my choosing or, more importantly, the king’s choosing.”

“Aren’t I a lucky king?” The sarcasm hung before Bastiaan like a pendulum of poison. King Mattias gestured to Hartmut, who brushed his hair away from his temple to reveal a constellation of silver dots. “The baron has a rare and magnificent Talent of being able to discern another’s Talent through mere touch.”

Bastiaan’s mouth turned as dry as heat-scorched earth. He’d shaken Hartmut’s hand, but he’d had his glove on. Yet his Talent Mark had burned.

Hartmut knew exactly what Bastiaan’s Talent was.

And he’d told King Mattias.

“Those who are truthful and swear fealty to me will be monitored and given commands to test their loyalty. But the deceivers must be dealt with, yes? We cannot reward twisted hearts with more power.” It was as though Mattias spoke to Bastiaan alone.

“Let me introduce Lady Coralythe.” The woman at his left stepped forward. Bastiaan moved to return to his spot among the council members, but Mattias gripped his shoulder. “Stay.” Then to the room he continued, “Lady Coralythe brought me this gift of Nightwell water. It has proved very worthwhile.”

He pulled back his sleeve. Deep purple vapor rose from his skin like a sleepy mist. “Purple . . . like royalty. The Nightwell acknowledged my status as king and it gifted me two Banes. Coralythe, tell them what the first Bane is.”

She inhaled through her thin nostrils and seemed to swell with strength. “It binds all those with Banes to King Mattias—both their loyalty and their lives.”

This time, no questions came forth. Bastiaan couldn’t manage even a swallow.

“Go on,” the king commanded.

Her lips pursed for the briefest moment. “I have a Bane. The king can command me and I cannot”—she cleared her throat—“I will not disobey him. Should I betray him . . . I would perish.”

She tried to word this delivery as something powerful. Something to be admired about King Mattias. But even Bastiaan caught the tremulous note of fear in her voice. Almost as one, the council members backed away from the Bane water.

Mattias laughed. “Are you so afraid to obey your king? You all claim to be loyal to me. What difference does my Bane make to you if you’re already so obedient?”

A trap of tongue. To resist a Bane would be to declare disloyalty. To get one would be to hand over one’s free will to the Murder King. Did Mattias’s Bane have limitations? It sounded like he needed to speak commands to a person directly in order to compel them to obey.

This woman—Coralythe—had brought King Mattias the Nightwell, and now she was bound to him. The rest of the council was about to experience the same fate.