Bastiaan eyed the pool. Its waters shivered under his gaze. What would happen if he submerged himself? What would happen to his Talent? He had suspicions. Theories. In truth he didn’t want to find out.

“My second Bane is a bit more . . . unique.” Mattias seemed to grow in power the longer he talked.

“As I floated beneath the surface of the Nightwell water, I asked it for a second Bane. It granted my request, and instead of telling you about it, I thought I’d offer a display. It’s what we do to those who misuse their Talent. To the man who claims to have a Talent of transportation but is actually able to stop time for everyone but himself.” He gripped Bastiaan’s wrist.

Weather and woods, Bastiaan was found out. He couldn’t fix this. If he snapped while King Mattias was touching him, the king would enter the Stillness too. Not ideal, but Bastiaan would do it if necessary.

King Mattias lifted Bastiaan’s marked hand for all to see. “When such deception happens, I will take action against the liar. This man here has a Talent to control time. According to Hartmut, Bastiaan does not age when he stops time, but anyone who joins him in his stopped world does age. When my father showed up in his bed, burned nearly to death, he was old. Weathered. Decrepit.”

Bastiaan’s ears rang. He’d thought he’d been so careful, but King Mattias was too shrewd.

“I have reason to suspect Bastiaan Duur used his Talent to murder my father, King Vämbat.” He turned to Bastiaan. “Do you deny it?”

Nothing else to do. Bastiaan sucked in a deep breath and snapped his fingers, summoning the Stillness.

Noise remained. Nothing changed. Mattias’s fingers tightened around his wrist. Bastiaan double-checked that his glove was off, and that was when he saw the Nightwell vapors from King Mattias’s Bane. They’d wrapped around his hand and the silver string around Bastiaan’s finger flickered like a candle in the breeze.

He felt suddenly empty. “What . . . what have you done?”

Mattias released him. “You tried to deceive me, Bastiaan Duur. So I’ve taken away your Talent.”

Chapter 18
Bastiaan

No. No one could take away a Talent. It was a gift from the Well. It was his.

King Mattias jerked his head at the militairen. “Dungeon.”

Hands rough as a windstorm. Armor clanking like thunder. Bastiaan was swept from the room before he could push a single protest through his numb lips.

He was a fool. He should have been able to read Mattias better, but spending thirty-two years away from people had taken its toll. He’d returned to the moving world more unaware than when he’d left it.