Graceling (Graceling Realm #1)(7)
Author: Kristin Cashore

That seemed not only foolish but peculiar. “Is she all owing her daughter to eat?”

“The handmaiden brings them meals,” Giddon said. “But they won’t leave the rooms. Apparently the king is being very patient about it.”

“It will pass,” Oll said. “There’s no saying what grief will do to a person. It will pass when her father is found.”

The Council would keep the old man hidden, for his own safety, until they learned the reason for his kidnapping.

But perhaps a message could be sent to the Monsean queen, to ease her strange grief? Katsa determined to consider it.

She would bring it up with Giddon and Oll , when they could talk safely.

“She’s Lienid,” Giddon said. “They’re known to be odd people.”

“It seems very odd to me,” Katsa said. She’d never felt grief, or if she had, she didn’t remember. Her mother, Randa’s sister, had died of a fever before Katsa’s eyes had settled, the same fever that had taken Raffin’s mother, Randa’s queen. Her father, a northern Middluns borderlord, had been killed in a raid across the border. It had been a Westeran raid on a Nanderan vil age. It hadn’t been his responsibility, but he’d taken up the defense of his neighbors, and gotten himself killed in the process. She hadn’t even been of speaking age. She didn’t remember him.

If her uncle died, she didn’t think she would grieve. She glanced at Giddon. She wouldn’t like to lose him, but she didn’t think she would grieve his loss, either. Oll was different. She would grieve for Oll . And her ladyservant, Helda.

And Raffin. Raffin’s loss would hurt more than a finger sliced off, or an arm broken, or a knife in her side.

But she wouldn’t close herself in her rooms. She would go out and find the one who had done it, and then she’d make that person feel pain as no one had ever felt pain before.

Giddon was speaking to her, and she wasn’t listening. She shook herself. “What did you say?”

“I said, lady dreamer, that I believe the sky is clearing. We’l be able to set out at dawn, if you like.”

They would reach court before nightfall. Katsa finished her meal quickly and ran to her room to pack her bags.

CHAPTER SIX

The sun was well on its way across the sky when their horses clattered onto the marble floor of Randa’s inner courtyard. Around them on all sides, the white castle walls rose and stood brightly against the green marble of the floor.

Balconied passageways lined the walls above, so that the people of the court could look down into the courtyard as they moved from one section of the castle to another and admire Randa’s great garden of crawling vines and pink flowering trees. A statue of Randa stood in the center of the garden, a fountain of water flowing from one outstretched hand and a torch in the other. It was an attractive garden, if one did not dwel on the statue, and an attractive courtyard – but not a peaceful or private one, with the entire court roaming the passageways above.

This was not the only such courtyard in the castle, but it was the largest, and it was the entrance point for any important residents or visitors.

The green floor was kept to such a shine that Katsa could see herself and her horse reflected in its surface. The white walls were made of a stone that sparkled, and they rose so high that she had to crane her neck to find the tops of the turrets above. It was very grand, very impressive. As Randa liked it.

The noise of their horses and their shouts brought people to the balconies, to see who had come. A steward came out to greet them. A moment later, Raffin came flying into the courtyard.

“You’ve arrived!”

Katsa grinned up at him. Then she looked closer – stood on her toes, for he was so very tall. She grabbed a handful of his hair.

“Raff, what’ve you done to yourself? Your hair is positively blue.”

“I’ve been trying a new remedy for headache,” he said, “to be massaged into the scalp. Yesterday I thought I felt a headache coming on, so I tried it. Apparently it turns fair hair lplue.”

She smiled. “Did it cure the headache?”

“Wel , if I had a headache, then it did, but I’m not convinced I had one to begin with. Do you have a headache?” he asked, hopeful y. “Your hair’s so dark; it wouldn’t turn nearly as blue.”

“I don’t. I never do. What does the king think of your hair?”

Raffin smirked. “He’s not speaking to me. He says it’s appal ing behavior for the son of the king. Until my hair is normal again I’m not his son.”

Ol and Giddon greeted Raffin and handed their reins to a boy. They followed the king’s steward into the castle, leaving Katsa and Raffin alone in the courtyard, near the garden and the splashing of Randa’s fountain. Katsa lowered her voice and pretended to focus on the straps that tied her saddlebags to her horse. “Any news?”

“He hasn’t woken,” Raffin said. “Not once.”

She was disappointed. She kept her voice low. “Have you heard of a Lienid noble Graced with fighting?”

“You saw him, did you?” Raffin said, and she swung her eyes to his face, surprised. “As you came into the courtyard? He’s been lurking around. Hard to look that one in the eyes, eh? He’s the son of the Lienid king.”

He was here? She hadn’t expected that. She focused on her saddlebags once more. “Ror’s heir?”

“Great hil s, no. He has six older brothers. His name is the sil iest I’ve heard for the seventh heir to a throne. Prince Greening Grandemalion.”

Raffin smiled. “Have you ever heard the like?”

“Why is he here?”

“Ah,” Raffin said. “It’s quite interesting, really. He claims to be searching for his kidnapped grandfather.”

Katsa looked up from her bags, into his laughing blue eyes. “You haven’t – ”

“Of course not. I’ve been waiting for you.”

A boy came for her horse, and Raffin launched into a monologue about the visitors she’d missed while she was gone. Then a steward approached from one of the entrances.

“He’l be for you,” Raffin said, “for I’m not my father’s son at the moment, and he doesn’t send stewards for me.” He laughed, then left her. “I’m glad you’re back,” he cal ed to her, and he disappeared through an archway.

The steward was one of Randa’s dry, sniffy little men. “Lady Katsa,” he said. “Welcome back. The king wishes to know if your business in the east was successful.”

“You may tell him it was successful,” Katsa said.

“Very good, My Lady. The king wishes you to dress for dinner.”

Katsa narrowed her eyes at the steward. “Does the king wish anything else?”

“No, My Lady. Thank you, My Lady.” The man bowed and scampered away from her gaze as quickly as possible.

Katsa lifted her bags onto her shoulder and sighed. When the king wished her to dress for dinner, it meant she was to wear a dress and arrange her hair and wear jewels in her ears and around her neck. It meant the king planned to sit her next to some underlord who wished a wife, though she was probably not the wife he had in mind. She would ease the poor man’s fears quickly, and perhaps she could claim not to feel well enough to sit through the entire meal. She could claim a headache. She wished she could take Raffin’s headache remedy and turn her hair blue. It would give her a respite from Randa’s dinners.

Raffin appeared again, a floor above her, on the balconied passageway that ran past his workrooms. He leaned over the railing and cal ed down to her. “Kat!”

“What is it?”

“You look lost. Have you forgotten the way to your rooms?”

“I’m stal ing.”

“How long will you be? I’d like to show you a couple of my new discoveries.”

“I’ve been told to make myself pretty for dinner.”

He grinned. “Wel , in that case, you’l be ages.”

His face dissolved into laughter, and she tore a button from one of her bags and hurled it at him. He squealed and dropped to the floor, and the button hit the wall right where he’d been standing. When he peeked back over the railing, she stood in the courtyard with her hands on her hips, grinning. “I missed on purpose,” she said.

“Show-off! Come if you’ve time.” He waved, and turned into his rooms.

And that’s when the presence in the corner of Katsa’s eye took shape.

He was standing a floor above her, to her left. He leaned his elbows on the railing, the neck of his shirt open, and watched her. The gold hoops in his ears, and the rings on his fingers. His hair dark. A tiny welt visible on his forehead, just beside his eye.

His eyes. Katsa had never seen such eyes. One was silver, and the other, gold. They glowed in his sun-darkened face, uneven, and strange.

She was surprised that they hadn’t shone in the darkness of their first meeting. They didn’t seem human. She couldn’t stop looking at them.

A steward of the court came to him then and spoke to him. He straightened, turned to the man, and said something in response. When the steward walked away, the Lienid’s eyes flashed back to Katsa’s. He leaned his elbows on the railing again.

Katsa knew she was standing in the courtyard’s center, staring at this Lienid. She knew she should move, but she found that she couldn’t.

Then he raised his eyebrows a hair, and his mouth shifted into the hint of a smirk. He nodded at her, just barely, and it released her from her spel .

Cocky, she thought. Cocky and arrogant, this one, and that was all there was to make of him. Whatever game he was playing, if he expected her to join him he would be disappointed. Greening Grandemalion, indeed.

She tore her eyes away from his, hitched her bags higher, and pushed herself forward into the castle, all the while conscious of the strange eyes burning into her back.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Helda had come to work in Randa’s nurseries around the same time Katsa began to dole out Randa’s punishments. It was hard to know why she’d been less frightened of Katsa than others were. Perhaps it was because she had borne a Graceling child of her own. Not a fighter, only a swimmer, a skil that was of no use to the king. So the boy had been sent home, and Helda had seen how the neighbors avoided and ridiculed him simply because he could move through the water like a fish. Or because he had one eye black, and the other blue. Perhaps this was why when the servants had warned Helda to avoid the king’s niece, Helda had reserved her opinion.

Of course, Katsa had been too old for the nurseries when Helda arrived, and the children of the court had kept Helda busy. But she’d come to Katsa’s training sessions, when she could. She’d sat and watched the child beat the stuffing out of a dummy, grain bursting from cracks and tears in the sack and slapping onto the floor like spurting blood. She’d never stayed long, because she always needed to return to the nursery, but stil Katsa had noticed her, as she noticed anyone who didn’t try to avoid her. Had noticed and noted her, but hadn’t troubled herself with curiosity.