The castle feels colder with Puck gone. Havelock attributes this to personal feelings of isolation and reduced physical proximity to someone who has, after all, a pulse - which could account for his trouble sleeping, but probably not for the fact that he feels the same standing by the raging fire.

He also accepts that he may be trying to distract himself with self-analysis.

It would be better if he focused on his training really, he thinks, ducking a sideways slash of Lady Margolotta's rapier. But what kind of politician can't carry more than one line of thought at once?

There comes an irritated snort from his opponent. "Boy, do you think shirts are disposable?"

Hmm, she had indeed nicked him. It isn't worth the thought, as it would have been before. Instinct is the key to fighting like this. It could also be his downfall, if he forgets to think. It's just one more thing to learn - the difference between a wound he can shrug off, and one that could incapacitate him long enough to be killed.

Possibly.

He's a little fuzzy on that score.

He will ask about it this morning, when Margolotta stops pushing him physically, and will talk to him like a fond and friendly relative again.

(He hates being patronised so, but can't help but find it amusing, even without Puck to mimic her after she has retired. The memory is enough to balance his new tendency towards darker fury when he gets frustrated with his lack of progress.)

He is improving every day, he can grudgingly tell. Margolotta will not tell him when she thinks he will be ready, but he thinks he will know.

It's enough.