“If it’s food you want, or beds,” he said gruffly, “you’ll find the inn at the head of the road.”

Katsa’s first question was the most risky, and she steeled herself against the answer. “It’s information we seek. Have you heard any news of Monsea?”

“Nothing for months. We hear little of Monsea in this corner of the woods.”

Katsa released her breath. “Hold your light to my face, storekeeper.”

The man grunted. He extended his arm through the crack in the door and held the candle to Katsa’s face. His eyes narrowed, then widened, and his entire manner changed. In an instant he’d opened the door, shuffled them through, and thrown the latch behind them.

“Forgive me, My Lady.” He gestured to a table and began to pull out chairs. “Please, please sit down. Marta!” he called into an adjacent room. “Food,” he said to the confused woman who appeared in the doorway, “and more light. And wake the—”

“No,” Katsa said sharply. “No. Please, wake no one. No one must know we’re here.”

“Of course, My Lady,” the man said. “You must forgive my . . . my . . .”

“You weren’t expecting us,” Katsa said. “We understand.”

“Indeed,” the man said. “We’d heard what happened at King Randa’s court, My Lady, and we knew you’d passed through Sunder with the Lienid prince. But somewhere along the way the rumors lost track of you.”

The woman came bustling back into the room and set a platter of bread and cheese on the table. A girl about Katsa’s age followed with mugs and a pitcher. A boy, a young man taller even than Raffin, brought up the rear, and lit the torches in the walls around the table. Katsa heard a soft sigh and glanced at Bitterblue. The child stared, wide-eyed and mouth watering, at the bread and cheese on the table before her. She caught Katsa’s eye. “Bread,” she whispered, and Katsa couldn’t help smiling.

“Eat, child,” Katsa said.

“By all means, young miss,” the woman said. “Eat as much as you like.”

Katsa waited until everyone was seated, and until Bitterblue was contentedly stuffing her mouth with bread. Then she spoke.

“We need information,” she said. “We need counsel. We need baths and any clothing—preferably boy’s clothing—you might be able to spare. Above all, we need utter secrecy regarding our presence in this town.”

“We’re at your service, My Lady,” the storekeeper said.

“We’ve enough clothing in this house to dress an army,” his wife said. “And any supplies you’ll need in the store. And a horse, I warrant, if you’re wanting one. You can be sure we’ll keep quiet, My Lady. We know what you’ve done with your Council and we’ll do for you whatever we can.”

“We thank you.”

“What information do you seek, My Lady?” the storekeeper asked. “We’ve heard very little from any of the kingdoms.”

Katsa’s eyes rested on Bitterblue, who tore into the bread and cheese like a wild thing. “Slowly, child,” she said, absently. She rubbed her head and considered how much to tell this Sunderan family. Some things they needed to know, and certainly the one thing most likely to combat the influence of whatever deception Leck spread next was the truth.