She would get that back, though. Somehow. Just as she would find Iseult and she would find her uncle.

Safi had asked Leopold the night before if he knew where Eron was. His denial had been an honest one. Yet, despite talking for hours and despite never catching Leopold in any lies, Safi had returned to her bedroom with the nagging sense that there was more to what he’d said. That he’d somehow hidden lies from her by wrapping them in pretty truths.

She had no one else to help her, though. The Hell-Bards were as bound to Henrick as she was. So for now, to Leopold she must turn.

“Heretic.”

Caden’s voice filtered through Safi’s breaths, and when she hauled up her thousand-pound head, she found him slouching nearby. Comfortably. Patiently, even. In one hand he held a practice sword; in the other, a real one.

“Fight me.” He offered Safi the true blade, its steel glinting in the cellar’s cold light.

And Safi couldn’t help it: she smiled. “I believe the title you meant to say was Your Imperial Majesty.” She took the sword, pleased to find it well balanced in her hand.

“No,” Caden countered with a slight smile. “I said exactly what I intended.” He charged.

Safi twirled sideways. His attack swung wide, but he quickly altered course, curving in for a follow-up. His wooden sword hit Safi’s steel. Chop, parry, thrust, riposte. Safi’s muscles sang with each movement. Her blood thrilled. All the sweat from running that had cooled across her skin was now hot and slick again.

“I need to know,” she said between grunts, between attacks, “how to get … into Hell-Bard Keep.” Nothing in Safi’s movements was graceful, but sometimes a person just needed to pummel things. She was also a month out of practice.

“Is that why you came to train?” Caden’s lips quirked as he easily outmaneuvered each of her swings. “And here I thought you missed me.”

She laughed and swung again. “I missed beating you up.”

“And I’ve missed being beat up, Safi.”

“It’s Your Imperial Majesty now.” She ducked a swipe, catching it with her blade.

“Not down here,” he countered. “Down here, you’re one of us. We’re all heretics, all Hell-Bards.” To prove this point, he swooped his practice blade against her next attack, flipping the wooden blade of his sword around her wrist and yanking.

Safi dropped her sword. Steel clanged to the ground. If his blade had been real, her hand would have fallen too. But his blade wasn’t real, and she wasn’t done with this fight. With all her strength, she pushed into Caden. His elbows crumpled in, the wooden sword pressed flat against him, and with her free hand, Safi grabbed his chin.