Give him a wish. Give him ten wishes. Become his wish business. “I can’t yet.” I cringed. Yet. I’d started speaking as though I planned to give him a wish. That wasn’t the message I wanted to send at all, but I couldn’t find any other way to deter him.

If I told him I couldn’t create a wish, he’d be angry and then he’d never tell me the location of the Well.

“You did it so easily by the canal that day.”

The day I wished I could undo. “Some days it’s easier.”

“Why don’t you get some rest?” He took the sticks from my hands. “Let me take care of you.”

The past two nights he’d given me a sleeping pallet and plenty of food and asked if I’d thought about his request. He’d been kind. Sweet. Caring. All the things I used to long for.

All for a wish.

In return I’d asked him—twice more—about directions to the Well. The last time I brought it up, he seemed suspicious so I stopped. And I’d spent the past several hours honing my blackmail.

It would include lying. I didn’t like that, but what other choice did I have?

Every scenario started with, If you don’t tell me how to get to the Well, I’ll use a wish to . . .

To what? He had no family to threaten. I wasn’t sure what he cared about other than his own status.

. . . to make you ugly.

. . . to make you forget your own story, like I did to Mutti.

. . . to force you into servitude under the king.

The more I crafted my threat, the more I realized I didn’t know Sven. I didn’t know what he cared about, not deep enough to ensure my threat would result in him caving. Then there was the fact I couldn’t follow through on any of my threats in the first place.

Not only that, but I didn’t want to lie. It would all come down to the wording.

I’d hoped I would have gotten his cooperation by now and been long gone. But I was still here. Still letting Sven think I was staying for him. I tucked the secret of my curse away. At the very least I was safer and more protected here than in Fairhoven with my likeness posted on trees and boards in the markt.

“I don’t need rest.” I sat back on my heels, watching Sven toss the handful of sticks into one of the piles without even sorting them.

“Myrthe, I want you in my inner circle.” His whisper met my ear like a tender kiss. I resisted the urge to lean away.

Heart: Why now? Why not when I was willing to be yours?

Mouth: “I’d like that.”

How cruel that to keep my heart beating I had to silence it.