Though the man did not step aside, his eyes bugged sufficiently and neither he nor his fellow interfered when Safi marched for the door. Golden light shimmered ahead. Hell-Bard wards—which Caden had warned her about when they had figured out this new plan. The wards would keep out all unwanted intruders and, more importantly, keep in any unwanted sounds.

They would not, however, block Hell-Bards, and as Safi pushed the doors wide, a mist of power rustled over her. Comforting, calming, warm. She had not learned how to make these wards since, as Lev had said earlier, she had avoided the usual route of noosing and training. She suspected, though, as the magic slid over her skin, that it was linked to the Loom. To the colors and Threads she’d seen there. To the way Hell-Bards could draw on the life-force of one another to heal from mortal wounds.

Safi glanced back as the doors shut behind her and winked at the attendants. Then the hall was hidden; she was alone in the Emperor’s study. As always happened during a heist, Safi’s heartbeat sharpened in her chest. Her vision funneled down to only what she needed, only what mattered. She had been raised for moments like this one.

After crossing to a chair before Henrick’s desk, Safi peeled off the chain. Cold instantly scudded through her. Fingernails made of shadow. But like the night before, it was easy to ignore. Especially when the colors of the room suddenly brightened.

Ah yes, this was the version of herself she loved most. The one built for action. The one who initiated, the one who moved. All that was missing was Iseult.

I’m coming for you.

She tucked the noose out of sight in the chair’s cushion, then cut across the room to the Emperor’s dressing room. Each step brought new noises into her ears, and by the time she gripped the knob and gently turned it, she could almost discern individual sounds.

Sounds she had hoped she would never have to hear, that made everything inside her curdle and cringe. Henrick, it would seem, was … enthusiastic.

The door opened silently. The noises beyond the dressing room increased, and Safi’s wince deepened. This was, without a doubt, the most perfect opportunity to swap the golden chain and Threadstones—Caden had guided her well. But it was also disgusting, and she wondered if it was possible to cauterize one’s brain.

Darkness shrouded Henrick’s dressing room, but light from the study revealed shelves and cabinets and a suit hanging on a life-size wooden frame. Safi hurried toward it, hoping it was his suit from that day. That his belt would be draped around it …

It was not, and a quick scan around the room revealed no belt, no chain, no Threadstones. Safi was going to have to enter the bedchamber.