But Leopold had clearly honed his skills in the last eight years, and Safi had certainly honed her own. Were this not purely for show and if she had not hated Leopold with every droplet of her being, she might have enjoyed the kiss. He was an undeniably beautiful man, and she was a woman with needs.
She broke the embrace. “I will come to your quarters,” she whispered. Her hands were still around his neck; his lips were swollen and red. “You will have one chance to explain to me why I should trust you, and if you fail that chance, I will hand over the Truth-lens to Henrick and turn you in for a traitor.”
Leopold smiled—a brilliant smile that settled deep within his eyes. “I have no doubt you will, Safiya.” His hands fell from her hair. “But I promise it will not come to that.” He swooped down to retrieve her hat, dusting off the snow and placing it tenderly atop her head. “Let us finish our walk.” He offered his arm once more. “And let us hope that kiss was convincing enough for even the most suspicious of my uncle’s spies.”
* * *
It was not Safi’s usual Hell-Bards who escorted her from the Winter Garden and into the palace. Instead the Emperor’s dedicated eight awaited her, led by Captain Caden fitz Grieg.
“The Emperor has asked that you join him in court,” Caden said with a stiff bow. With his split helm covering most of his face, Safi could not read his expression—but she could hear a familiar warmth marking his voice.
She had scarcely seen Caden or Zander since her noosing. Caden had been promoted upon his return to Praga and Henrick kept him close. Zander meanwhile had been assigned outside the palace. He had failed to keep Iseult from claiming Owl when she’d fled, and Safi could only assume some punishment had befallen him for that lapse.
“Captain,” Safi said with a smile. “It has been a while.” She stepped into a long-legged stride, moving in a way that forced Caden to walk beside her instead of flanking.
She was Empress now, and he could hardly reject her conversation. So while the other Hell-Bards moved accordingly to fill in his empty space, he fell into step beside her. He even went so far as to remove his helm. His brown hair was matted to his head, his freckled face pink with cold.
“Have you heard any news of Iseult?” Safi’s stomach yawned at that question, but she had to ask it. Every time she saw him, she had to ask.
“No,” he said on a sigh. “No Hell-Bards have caught up to her yet.”
“Thank the gods,” Safi breathed, and her shoulders wilted, her neck relaxed.
Caden, who watched her sideways through hooded eyes, only tensed all the more. “Lev tells me you keep testing the noose.”
“So Lev spies on me too.”
“It isn’t spying,” he countered, a bit too sharply. A bit too loud. He cleared his throat. “She … cares for you. We all do, Your Imperial Majesty. Becoming a Hell-Bard doesn’t only sever magic. It severs our lives, our minds, our souls. You aren’t alone, Safi.”
Safi. It was nice to hear her name again, though it was also a reminder of just how alone she truly was. “I am surrounded by no one I can trust, Caden. Except Lev. And I have no idea where in all the Witchlands my Threadsister might be.” She chewed her lip. Her words sounded whiny. Pathetic. Yet she couldn’t seem to stop them. “I’m forced to do whatever the Emperor desires because if I don’t, he hurts you. All of you.”
Caden’s frown deepened. For several moments, he said nothing, as if he was thinking through every sentence, every word, every pause. Ahead, massive doors into the old palace were whispering wide, opened by waiting servants. The Hell-Bards did not break formation as they marched purposefully through, Safi and Caden still tucked within their ranks.
At a broad staircase, however, the Hell-Bards finally slowed to a stop—forcing Safi and Caden to stop as well. Then they separated into lines along the entryway’s walls while a new set of Hell-Bards descended the steps, Lev at the fore.
Caden turned to Safi, his posture stiff and military as he popped a bow. “Your Imperial Majesty, remember what I told you.” With a stiff flick of his hand, he motioned to his neck, to where his noose rested beneath layers of armor and padding. “You are not the only dead woman here, and we protect our own.” Then he lifted his voice—just loud enough for the nearby Hell-Bards to hear. “Toward death with wide eyes,” he said, quoting their motto.
As one, they replied, “All clear, all clear.”
Gooseflesh crawled down Safi’s skin. Her throat swelled. For though she had heard the Hell-Bard motto before, she’d never had it directed at her. She had never had it include her.
She was one of them now. A Hell-Bard. All clear, all clear.
Safi turned away from Caden then and allowed Lev and the others to clack into formation around her. It was time, once more, to enter the palace and take up her mantle at the Emperor’s side.
TWELVE
When Vivia awoke, it was to find the sun rising and the world silent. No drumbeats, no winds, no cannons firing. Just a ship’s familiar creaking, wood and ropes and sail all moving in tandem.
Swallowing, she eased upright. She was in her bed, fully clothed, and—
“Finally.” Vaness’s voice slid across her, and on a stool beside the cot sat the Empress, arms folded. Face and clothes still bloodied. “You have been out a long time. Does this usually happen?”
“No.” Vivia frowned and finished rising. She ached, but in an old way. Ancient as the water that had briefly consumed her. It would pass in a few hours. “I’m not sure I’ve ever tapped into that sort of power before.”
Vaness sniffed.
And Vivia had to fight the urge to point out all the blood caked across her imperial chin. Never had she seen the Empress so filthy. Never had she imagined it possible. And most amazing of all, Vaness didn’t seem to care.
The Empress stood, a slight wobble to her carriage—she was no sailor—and approached the bed. She stopped only when her thighs hit the edge. Then she glowered down, fury in every piece of her, and though Vivia couldn’t see the iron bracelets, she had no doubt they skated and spun.
“Never,” Vaness said softly, “do that again.”
“Do what?”
“Command me without warning. Command me without consent.”
Vivia sighed and leaned back against the cabin wall. She had no headrest because the wood was better used elsewhere; she had no elegant covers either. Cotton suited her just fine.
She ran a hand through her hair, still slightly damp. “You are on my ship, Your Imperial Majesty. I am captain here, which means my word is law. You know that. We’ve been over that, and you claimed you understood.”
“That was before you ordered me to run the cannons. Never”—she wagged a finger at Vivia—“do that again.”
Vivia didn’t answer. A flicker of anger spread up her spine. “We would have died if you hadn’t stopped those cannons. We almost did die, even with your magic.”
“And I should have let that iron go all the way through.” She kept her finger stretched long in Vivia’s face. “I should have let it crash to the ocean and watched as we all sank and your Hagfishes claimed us—”