As Henrick turned away to begin pacing and lecturing—one of his favorite activities—Safi stopped listening. It had been so long since she had felt anything, and this heat in her chest, this jittering in her heel, felt good. This was who she was, even with the noose to imprison her. She was recklessness and initiation, she was foolhardy plans with no escape routes. And gods, what she was about to do could explode so badly.

Which was exactly what made it so perfect.

When Henrick reached the next turning point in his pacing, when his toad-like form swiveled around to face her, Safi lunged. It was not an attack meant for damage. It had no finesse like she’d executed in the hall, and the Emperor could easily defend against it—for he was far more agile than he portrayed.

But Safi wanted to see if he would react not with force, but with power. Not with physicality, but with instinct.

And he did.

As Safi slammed into him and he rocked back toward his shelves, his right hand flew toward his belt, toward a golden chain wrapped around it. Safi had noticed that chain before; she’d thought it decorative. It must instead be a main chain to control all others, and more alarming—more incredible—were the two uncut rubies tucked beneath it, wrapped in thread—

Stop.

The command lightninged into Safi’s skull. So powerful, she could not resist. The word lived in her bones, lived in her soul. It froze her with shadows that could not be disobeyed.

And Safi didn’t want to disobey. She’d seen all she needed to see.

So she stopped, dropping to her knees before Henrick, and instantly, the pain—and the command—receded. The shadows cleared. Safi’s bones and soul were her own again.

“Do not,” Henrick snarled, “make me repeat that.” He grabbed her hair and snapped her head upward. His eyes burned with fury; her eyes burned with unwelcome tears. “I will put you in your quarters if I have to. Do you understand, my Empress?”

When she didn’t answer, he yanked at the chain upon his belt once again … and startled cries erupted in the hallway outside.

“Stop,” she croaked. Her heart still thumped too fast from his command. Her muscles still felt like ice had shattered within. She wished such agony on no one.

“I will stop”—Henrick pulled her hair tighter—“when you say you understand. Do you?”

She nodded.

“Say it.”

“I understand.”

He released her. She crumpled to the floor, scalp sore. Body broken. Her mind, though …

She lifted her gaze, a sneer settling over her lips. I hate you, I hate you, I hate you. “You are poison,” she whispered. “Twisted and hateful and poison.”