“Maybe once. Or twice.”

“Hanne!”

Hanne shrugged. “The first time I went over the wall, I just wanted to see if I could get to the roof of the embassy sector.”

“And the second time?”

Hanne winced guiltily. “I may have wanted to go see the marketplace by myself. And the third time—”

“You said twice!”

“There were whales in the bay. Was I supposed to not go see them?”

Nina laughed, though imagining Hanne making madcap escapes from the Ice Court left her feeling uneasy. If Hanne accepted a proposal at the end of Heartwood, she might be trapped here forever. But for now, Nina had to focus on Magnus Opjer.

The trek across the ice moat was harrowing, and despite her heavy boots, Nina’s feet were frozen by the time they arrived on the thin rind of shore at the drüskelle sector. It took a few tries to get the grappling hook in place, but bare moments later, Hanne was shinnying up the rope like she was part squirrel.

“Really,” Nina grumbled beneath her breath. “She could at least try to make it look hard for my sake.”

Once Hanne was on the roof, she braced the rope as Nina climbed, arm over arm, grateful for the knots and loops they’d tied into the rope. From there, they had to span the gap that led to the actual building that housed the dining hall and Brum’s office. Nina tried not to think about how far she was off the ground and went over the plan in her head. On her back, she carried clothing they’d pilfered from Brum’s own closet. It wasn’t ideal, but the man spent most of his time in uniform, and they needed something to replace Opjer’s rags. Once she freed Opjer, she would take him back across the ice moat and into the gardens. Then she’d send him over the bridge with the rest of the departing partygoers and deliver him into the waiting arms of the Hringsa. Before he left, Hanne would tailor Opjer’s face. His resemblance to Nikolai was too damning, and Nina didn’t want a weapon like that to fall into the wrong person’s hands.

At last, Nina reached the other side of the gap and flopped onto the roof of the drüskelle sector. Hanne made sure the rope was secured around one of the chimneys, then looped it around Nina’s waist.

“Ready?” she asked.

Nina clutched the rope. “To be lowered like a sack of flour into the heart of witchhunter power?”

“This was your idea. We can still turn around.”

“Do not second-guess the sack of flour. The sack of flour is wise beyond her years.”

Hanne rolled her eyes and braced her feet against the edge of the roof, and Nina stepped out into nothing. Hanne released a grunt, but the rope stayed steady. Slowly, she lowered Nina down.