Graceling (Graceling Realm #1)(10)
Author: Kristin Cashore

He leaned back against the great slab of stone that served as a table for the equipment of the archers. His arms were crossed. She was becoming accustomed to this look, this lazy look, as if he could nod off to sleep at any moment, but it didn’t fool her. She thought if she were to spring at him, he’d react quickly enough.

“Then, you need to be able to grapple with your opponent, to have an advantage,” she said.

He nodded. “I may be quicker to dodge arrows than someone Ungraced. But in my own attack, my skil is only as good as my aim.”

“Hmm.” Katsa believed him. The Graces were odd like that; they didn’t touch any two people in quite the same way.

“Can you throw a knife as well as you shoot an arrow?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“You’re unbeatable, Lady Katsa.” She heard the laughter in his voice again. She considered him for a moment and then turned away and walked down the course to the targets. She stopped at one, the one she’d “kil ed,” and yanked the arrows from its thighs, its chest, its head.

He sought his grandfather, and Katsa had what he sought. But he didn’t feel safe to her, this one. He didn’t feel quite trustworthy.

She walked from target to target, pul ing out arrows. He watched her, she felt it, and the knowledge of his eyes on her back drove her to the back of the range, where she put the torches out, one by one. As she extinguished the last flame, darkness enveloped her, and she knew she was invisible.

She turned to him then, thinking to examine him in the light of the equipment room without his knowing. But he slouched, arms crossed, and stared straight at her. He couldn’t see her, it wasn’t possible – but his gaze was so direct that she couldn’t hold it, even knowing he didn’t know she stared.

She walked across the range and stepped into the light, and his eyes seemed to change focus. He smiled at her, ever so slightly. The torch caught the gold of one eye and the silver of the other. They were like the eyes of a cat, or a night creature of some kind.

“Does your Grace give you night vision?” she asked.

He laughed. “Hardly. Why do you ask?”

She didn’t answer. They looked at each other for a moment. The flush began to rise into her neck again, and with it, a surging irritation. She’d grown far too used to people avoiding her eyes. He would not rattle her so, simply by looking at her. She wouldn’t all ow it.

“I’m going to return to my rooms now,” she said.

He straightened. “Lady, I have questions for you.”

Wel , and she knew they must have this conversation eventual y, and she preferred to have it in the dark, where his eyes wouldn’t unnerve her.

Katsa pulled the quiver over her head, and laid it on the slab of stone. She placed the bow beside it.

“Go on,” she said.

He leaned back against the stone. “What did you steal from King Murgon, Lady,” he said, “four nights past?”

“Nothing that King Murgon had not himself stolen.”

“Ah. Stolen from you?”

“Yes, from me, or from a friend.”

“Real y?” He crossed his arms again, and in the torchlight he raised an eyebrow. “I wonder if this friend would be surprised to hear himself so cal ed?”

“Why should he be surprised? Why should he think himself an enemy?”

“Ah,” he said, “but it’s just that. I thought the Middluns had neither friends nor enemies. I thought King Randa never got involved.”

“I suppose you’re wrong.”

“No. I’m not wrong.” He stared at her, and she was glad for the darkness that kept his strange eyes dim. “Do you know why I’m here, Lady?”

“I was told you’re the son of the Lienid king,” she said. “I was told you seek your grandfather, who’s disappeared.

Why you’ve come to Randa’s court, I couldn’t say. I doubt Randa is your kidnapper.”

He considered her for a moment, and a smile flickered across his face. Katsa knew she wasn’t fooling him. It didn’t matter. He may know what he knew, but she had no intention of confirming it.

“King Murgon was quite certain I was involved in the robbery,” he said. “He seemed quite sure I knew what object had been stolen.”

“And that’s natural,” Katsa said. “The guards had seen a fighter, and you’re no other than a fighter.”

“No. Murgon didn’t believe I was involved because I was Graced. He believed I was involved because I’m Lienid.

Can you explain that?”

And of course she would give him no answer to that question, this smirking Lienid. She noticed that the neck of his shirt was now fastened. “I see you close your shirt for state dinners,” she heard herself saying, though she didn’t know where such a senseless comment came from.

His mouth twitched, and his words, when he spoke, did not conceal his laughter. “I didn’t know you were so interested in my shirt, Lady.”

Her face was hot, and his laughter was infuriating. This was absurdity, and she would put up with it no longer. “I’m going to my rooms now,” she said, and she turned to leave. In a flash, he stood and blocked her path.

“You have my grandfather,” he said.

Katsa tried to step around him. “I’m going to my rooms.” He blocked her path again, and this time he raised his arm in warning.

Wel , at least they were relating now in a way she could understand. Katsa cocked her head upward and looked into his eyes. “I’m going to my rooms,” she said, “an if I must knock you over to do so, I will .”

“I won’t all ow you to go,” he said, “until you tell me where my grandfather is.”

She moved again to pass him, and he moved to block her, and it was almost with relief that she struck out at his face. It was just a feint, and when he ducked she jammed at his stomach with her knee, but he twisted so that the blow didn’t fal true, and came back with a fist to her stomach.

She took the blow, just to see how well he hit, and then wished she hadn’t. This wasn’t one of the king’s soldiers, whose blows hardly touched her, even with ten of them on her at once. This one could knock the wind out of her. This one could fight, and so a fight was what she would give him.

She jumped and kicked at his chest. He crashed to the ground and she threw herself on top of him, struck him in the face once, twice, three times, and kneed him in the side before he was able to throw her off. She was on him again like a wildcat, but as she tried to trap his arms he flipped her onto her back and pinned her with the weight of his body. She curled her legs up and heaved him away, and then they were on their feet again, crouching, circling, striking at each other with hands and feet. She kicked at his stomach and barreled into his chest, and they were on the ground again.

Katsa didn’t know how long they’d been grappling when she realized he was laughing. She understood his joy, understood it completely. She’d never had such a fight, she’d never had such an opponent. She was faster than he was offensively – much faster – but he was stronger, and it was as if he had a premonition of her every turn and strike; she’d never known a fighter so quick to defend himself. She was cal ing up moves she hadn’t tried since she was a child, blows she’d only ever imagined having the opportunity to use. They were playing. It was a game. When he pinned her arms behind her back, grabbed her hair, and pushed her face into the dirt, she found that she was laughing as well .

“Surrender,” he said.

“Never.” She kicked her feet up at him and squirmed her arms out of his grasp. She elbowed him in the face, and when he jumped to avoid the blow, she flew at him and flattened him to the ground. She pinned his arms as he had just done, and pushed his face into the dirt. She dug one knee into the small of his back.

“You surrender,” she said, “for you’re beaten.”

“I’m not beaten, and you know it. You’l have to break my arms and legs to beat me.”

“And I will ,” she said, “if you don’t surrender.” But there was a smile in her voice, and he laughed.

“Katsa,” he said, “Lady Katsa. I’ll surrender, on one condition.”

“And the condition?”

“Please,” he said. “Please, tell me what’s happened to my grandfather.”

There was something mixed in with the laughter in his voice, something that caught at Katsa’s throat. She didn’t have a grandfather. But perhaps this grandfather meant to the Lienid prince what Oll – or Helda or Raffin – meant to her.

“Katsa,” he said into the dirt. “I beg you to trust me, as I’ve trusted you.”

She held him down for just a moment, and then she let his arms go. She slid from his back and sat in the dirt beside him. She rested her chin in her palm, considering him.

“Why do you trust me,” she said, “when I left you lying on the floor of Murgon’s courtyard?”

He rolled over and sat up, groaning. He massaged his shoulder. “Because I woke up. You could’ve killed me, but you didn’t.” He touched his cheekbone and winced. “Your face is bleeding.” He stretched out his hand to her jaw, but she waved it aside and stood.

“It doesn’t matter,” she said. “Come with me, Prince Greening.”

He heaved himself to his feet. “It’s Po.”

“Po?”

“My name. It’s Po.”

Katsa watched him for a moment as he swung his arms and tested out his shoulder joints. He pressed his side and groaned. His eye was swel ing, and blackening, she thought, though it was hard to tell in the darkness. His sleeve was torn,and he was covered with dirt, absolutely smeared from head to foot. She knew she looked the same – worse, really, with her messy hair and bare feet – but it only made her smile.

“Come with me, Po,” she said. “I’ll take you to your grandfather.”

CHAPTER NINE

When they walked into the light of Raffin’s workrooms, his blue head was bent over a bubbling flask. He added leaves to the flask from a potted plant at his elbow. He watched the leaves dissolve and muttered something at the result.

Katsa cleared her throat. Raffin looked up at them and blinked.

“I take it you’ve been getting to know each other,” he said. “It must’ve been a friendly fight, if you come to me together.”

“Are you alone?” Katsa asked.

“Yes, except for Bann, of course.”

“I’ve told the prince about his grandfather.”