Page 50 of Witchshadow

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 wasYour 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 topummelthings. 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’sYour Imperial Majestynow.” 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 bladewasn’treal, 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.

She moved forward, ready to brace behind him just as she had done to Henrick’s attendant only two days before. Except Caden was trained, so when her hip cocked against his, he slung an arm around her shoulders…

And brought her down too.

She landed on her stomach. Caden landed on his back, and for several seconds, neither of them spoke. Neither of them moved. Safi just stared into the sand and tried to get her lungs and skull working again. Her wrist hurt. Her weak ankle too.

“If,” she panted out eventually, “I’m a Hell-Bard now, then why won’t you tell me how to get into the Keep?” She swiveled her head and found Caden watching her. Sweat glistened on his red face; the scar on his chin stood out white and long.

And not for the first time, Safi was struck by how thrice-damned handsome he was.No wonder he tricked you so easily in Veñaza City.He had been the Chiseled Cheater then. Now, he was Caden fitz Grieg—and now, Safi knew she could trust him through hell-fires and back.

“Why do you need to get into the Keep?” His chest moved in time to his shallow breaths. “Trust me when I say the Keep is not a place you want to go. It’s not a place I or any other Hell-Bard wants to go. It is…” He hesitated, as if searching for the right word. “Bad.”

“Bad,” she repeated. That descriptor could mean so many things.

“If you’re hoping to find a way out of this curse, you won’t find it there, Safi. All of us”—he spun a tired hand—“have hoped for that same thing. And we’ve only ever found disappointment.”

But I’m not like you,she wanted to volley back.You don’t have a Truth-lens, Caden, and you aren’t half the Cahr Awen.Safi wasn’t that person anymore, though—the one who always had to retort. Who always needed the last, fiery word. These Hell-Bards had tried and failed to earn freedom; she would not disrespect their trials by claiming her own chances were any better.

Instead, she said: “I have to try, Caden. I have to see the heart of it all with my own eyes. And perhaps… perhaps there will be some clue there about my uncle.”

Caden’s expression softened at those words. “I see.” With a grunt, he pushed to his feet and offered Safi a hand.

She took it. But once he had her upright, he didn’t release her. Instead he tugged her close. “There is a way to get you there, Safi. A quick way that even Henrick cannot deny. But you aren’t going to like it.” His face was mere inches from hers, their fingers still intertwined.

“Anything,” she breathed, leaning in more closely. “Caden, I’ll doanything.”

His eyes held hers for two heartbeats before he nodded. “Good enough. Just remember you said that when you’re cursing my name in two seconds.

“What do you mean?” she began, but Caden was already pulling back, already drawing a knife from his belt.

He stabbed her in the thigh.

NINETEEN

This was what Iseult knew about her terrain: she was in the Ohrins in a shepherding complex with countless miles of forest surrounding her. And this was what Iseult knew about her opponent: Corlant could enter the Hell-Bard Loom. He could take magic from others and use it. And for some reason, he had hunted Iseult across the entire continent.