“Change,” Leopold commanded, so Safi did—with her back to him and his back to her. The garments were well made, but simple enough to avoid drawing attention on the road. The dark browns and darker grays would blend easily into shadows, forests, or fields.

Once the packs were upon their backs, heavy but not unstable, Leopold asked, “How do you feel?”

“Like last night,” Safi answered honestly. “I feel that half of me is gone, but as long as I have this”—she patted her Truth-lens—“the cold and the pain are easy to ignore.”

A nod. “I will trust you to tell me if it worsens.” He twisted toward the wall, knocked three times, and the outside world rushed in.

Safi smiled. A small, private thing. The Loom might pull at her, the Emperor might discover what she’d done, and this whole plan might be thoroughly stupid, but she was moving. She was initiating. She was free.

Besides, as she’d always told Iseult, Stupid as it might seem, stupid is also something they never see coming.

Leopold tromped into the water and Safi followed. The door disappeared, stones returned, and Safi spotted something she hadn’t seen the night before: a rook and an owl carved at eye level.

Thank you, Safi thought to those lovers long dead. She owed them so much. Then she splashed after Leopold, through the reeds and into the night.

Safi and Leopold walked for hours. Through Praga and out the same gate they’d approached the night before, then through city after suburb after village. Cold ramped higher in Safi’s bones the farther they traveled. A tightening, a thinning, as if her skeleton might snap if she wasn’t gentle.

But she ignored it. Just as she ignored the faint lines forming across her hands. Leopold never noticed, and he made no comment when she pulled on gloves. The night was frigid; she had an excuse.

It was at a crossroads outside a farming village that three figures on horseback trotted Safi’s and Leopold’s way. There were no other people on the road, and no lamps burned here. These were laborers’ homes; at night, they slept. And in winter, only silence and snow reigned.

Leopold’s breath snagged audibly when it was clear the horses approached. He grabbed Safi’s arm, ready to tow her into a run. But she yanked him back.

“They’re here to help.”

His eyes widened. Then understanding settled, hard and furious, across his face. “What have you done?”

Before she could answer, Lev’s voice trilled, “We thought you might prefer to ride. It’s faster than walking, you know.” Her horse slowed beside Safi, and she dismounted.

Caden and Zander, meanwhile, drew up their horses to Leopold. After dropping to the winter-hardened road, they both popped matching bows. “Your Imperial Highness,” Caden said. Then to Safi, “Your Imperial Majesty.” He wore well-padded plain clothes, as did Lev and Zander.