Katsa thought of the boy who was named heir, and the king and queen who died shortly thereafter. The advisers who supposedly jumped into the river together. And a whole kingdom of mourners who never thought to question the boy who had no family, no past, no Monsean blood flowing through his veins—but who had become king. “But his kindness,” Katsa said urgently. “The animals. That man spoke of the animals he restores to health.”

“And that’s the other thing,” Po said. “That man truly believed in Leck’s philanthropy. But am I the only person who finds it a bit odd that there should be so many slashed-up dogs and squirrels in Monsea that need rescuing? Are the trees and the rocks made of broken glass?”

“But he’s a kind man if he cares for them.”

Po peered at Katsa strangely. “You’re defending him, too, in the face of logic that tells you not to, just like my parents and just like those merchants. He’s got hundreds of animals with bizarre cuts that don’t heal, Katsa, and children in his employ dying of mysterious illnesses, and you’re not the slightest bit suspicious.”

He was right. Katsa saw it; and the truth in all its gruesomeness trickled into her mind. She began to have a conception of a power that spread like a bad feeling, like a sickness itself, seizing all minds that it touched.

Could there be a Grace more dangerous than one that replaced sight with a fog of falseness?

Katsa shuddered. For she would be in the presence of this king soon enough. She wasn’t certain what defense even she could raise against a man who could fool her into believing his innocent reputation.

Her eyes traced Po’s silhouette, dark against the black door. His white shirt was the only part of him truly visible, a luminous gray in the darkness. She wished, suddenly, that she could see him better. He stood and pulled her to her feet. He pulled her to the window and looked down into her face. The moonlight caught a glimmer in his silver eye, and a gleam in the gold of his ear. She didn’t know why she had felt so anxious or why the lines of his nose and his mouth, or the concern in his eyes, should comfort her.

“What is it?” he asked. “What’s bothering you?”

“If Leck has this Grace, as you suspect . . .” she began.

“Yes?”

“. . . how will I protect myself from him?”

He considered her seriously. “Well. And that’s easy,” he said. “My Grace will protect me from him. And I’ll protect you. You’ll be safe with me, Katsa.”

IN HER BED, thoughts swirled like a windstorm in her mind; but she ordered herself to sleep. In an instant, the storm quieted. She slept under a blanket of calm.

Chapter Nineteen

THERE WERE two ways to get to Leck City from the inn or from any point in Sunder. One was to travel south to one of the Sunderan ports and sail southeast to Monport, the westernmost port city of the Monsean peninsula, where a road led north to Leck City, across flat land just east of Monsea’s highest peaks. This route was traveled by merchants who carried goods, and most parties containing women, children, or the elderly.