Page 102 of Witchshadow

“You must stay here,” Iseult told the child. “No matter what you hear, you must stay until I come back for you. Do you understand?”

“What if you don’t come back?” Owl’s face winked down from above, eyes huge as her namesake’s. So much trust in that stare. So much trust in those Threads.

Iseult wondered if she’d ever looked at Gretchya that way.

“Iwillcome back,” Iseult promised, a fierceness in her voice that sent cyan surprise showering up Owl’s Threads. It surprised Iseult too. But she meant what she’d said: “I’ll come back for you. But you must stay safe, all right? And hidden. The weasel will watch out for you.”

Owl tucked back against the trunk, nodding, Still, no fear tainted her Threads and even her usual distaste for Esme, now curling onto her tinylap, was nowhere to be seen. It was only a matter of time, though, before fear and hate took hold. The Painstone wouldn’t last forever.

Iseult would simply have to return before that happened.

She gave Owl’s hand a single squeeze before releasing her. “I’ll be back soon.” Then she latched on to Aeduan’s sleeve and pulled him into a sprint out of the spruce’s branches. Her last glimpse of Owl was of hazel eyes unfaltering and of a child’s Threads, reaching and green.

When at last Henrick appeared in the study, he wore no masks—and almost no clothes. A dressing robe covered his body, sapphire blue and actually flattering.

He drew up short at the sight of Safi. His eyes bulged, his lips curled back, and if he’d been wearing his belt, she had no doubt he would have grabbed for the chain.

“Who let you in?”

“I let myself in.” The Threadstones and chain felt like beacons in her pocket. She itched to touch them. Instead, she cracked her knuckles on the chair’s padded arm. “As your empress, I do not see why I cannot enter your quarters—though don’t worry, I have no interest in entering your bedchamber. Particularly when it’s, um…occupied.”

There was danger in goading Henrick. Safi knew that. But she also knew thatnotgoading him came with other risks—namely, his own suspicions. The Safi-who-had-not-just-stolen-from-him would have been flippant, so the Safi-who-had-just-stolen-from-him had to be flippant as well.

Her calculation was successful. Henrick stomped toward her and glowered down. “Why are you here?”

“I want to know something.”

“And?” His snaggletooth jutted outward. His posture sank inward. He was, before Safi’s eyes, reassembling his usual mask.

“It is about my uncle,” Safi said.

“I will not tell you where he is.”

“And I didn’t think you would.” She sat taller in her chair. “But I have one question for you. If you’ll answer it, then I promise I will never ask you about Uncle Eron again.”

“Indeed,” he replied, and there was still no change. Only his usual scowl and foul demeanor. It didn’t have quite the same effect, though, in a sapphire-blue dressing gown with his hair mussed and cheeks still red from lovemaking.

“Is that a yes?”

“Ask the question and we shall see.”

“Why did you arrest him?” Safi enunciated each word carefully. Crisply. Authoritatively. “Why did you decide Uncle Eron was a traitor?”

Henrick did not answer. Instead, he hooded his eyes with calculated disinterest. Safi didn’t look away, she didn’t relax. She simply stared back and waited.The Empress card to take the Emperor. The Sun to quash all the Kings.

Her patience—and her gamble—paid off. Eventually Henrick inhaled, hairy chest widening, and said, “When I ordered your uncle to kill your parents, he refused. When I ordered him to kill you, he removed his own noose.”

It was not what Safi had expected. She’d assumed Henrick had discovered Eron’s plan for peace. Or at least realized Eron had helped her escape Veñaza City after the engagement announcement. She’d even speculated that Henrick had jailed Eron simply for bait to lure Safi home.

But her uncle disobeying an order to kill her, an order to kill her parents… A feather could have knocked her over, she was so stunned. And so hollow too. As if someone had just scraped out all her memories but then failed to fill in the empty space again.

“Did… did you kill my parents then?” she asked.

Henrick shook his head. He was done answering questions, he was done with this conversation, and Safi knew it was time to fold.

“Thank you, my Emperor. As promised, I shall never ask about my uncle again.” She bowed her head once, wearing a bitter smile. Henrick truly was the villain she’d always believed him to be. Degrees of everything or not, his monstrous side was the one that mattered. The one that left hell-fires and destruction wherever his armies spread.

She would ruin him.