“Did all events unfold according to my plans? No. I did not foresee the internal war at the Carawen Monastery. I did not anticipate Henrick’s decision to imprison your uncle, I did not expect Henrick to noose you, and I certainly did not think you would be so foolish as to attempt noosing him. But when I say that everything I do is for you and Iseult, I am not lying. You know that I am not.”

With stiff, angry movements, he hooked a finger beneath Safi’s collar and withdrew her Truth-lens. The brass casing scraped across her chest.

“This tells you I speak the truth, does it not?”

“It tells me you do not lie.” Safi’s words were as quiet as his had been—and just as razor-sharp. Fourteen years she had known Leopold, yet this was the first time she’d ever truly seen him. He was lethal, he was cold, and he was accustomed to having his way.

“I do not lie.” He released the necklace, though his hand continued to hover near her throat. “And I do not lie when I say that I will transport you to the Solfatarra. Safely, even if it means I must give up my own life along the way.”

Safi held his eyes for several long moments. She did not breathe; nor did he. The quartz and threads across her collarbone still did not hiss lie to her—and she was, as he must know, out of options. She needed to leave the palace, she needed to reach the Solfatarra, and it would be infinitely safer, infinitely easier if she had Leopold at her side.

“I have trusted you this far,” she said at last. “And I will continue trusting you to the end.”

He finally lowered his hand. “Good.” His lips bounced with a barely perceptible smile. “We will leave tomorrow night, then. Be ready and say nothing to the Hell-Bards.” He didn’t wait for Safi to acknowledge this command before he turned away from her and resumed his forward stride.

It wasn’t until hours later, however, when Safi was in her own room once more and nestling into bed, that she realized Leopold had never actually answered her question. He had given her a list of reasons to trust him, but he’d never actually said why he had let Iseult go.

Oh, he was clever.

He had tricked her magic very handily indeed, and she had swallowed every word like a good child taking her medicine.

She would have to be careful once they were on the road. Very safe, very alone.

Iseult and Owl traveled for hours, following the weasel wherever she led. A steady pace, occasionally slowed so Owl could catch her breath or Iseult could check the Hell-Bard map. But they always quickly resumed as silver Threads came near.