When the young brother crouched before Katsa again and offered her his handkerchief, she took it and stared stupidly into his face. “Do you think Po’s all right?” he asked. “Will you go back for him now? I’d like to go with you.”

She wiped her face with the handkerchief. “Which one are you?”

The brother smiled. “I’m Skye. I’ve never seen anyone throw a dagger so fast. You’re exactly as I imagined you.”

He rose to his feet again and went to his father. Katsa held her stomach and tried to calm the sourness surging inside her. The fog of Leck’s Grace was slower to leave her than to leave the others, and she was sick with what she’d done. Yes, Leck was dead, and that was a good thing. But it was because she’d used a dagger—a dagger—to stop someone talking. It was as violent as anything she’d ever done for Randa. And she hadn’t even known what she was doing.

SHE MUST go to Po. She must leave them all to piece the truth together by themselves. It didn’t matter, these details they picked apart and discussed and argued over, on and on, as the day turned to night. Bitterblue was saved, and that mattered; Po was alone and hurt, and struggling through a Monsean winter, and that mattered.

“Will you tell them about the ring?” Bitterblue asked her that night as Katsa sat in their bedroom forcing her sluggish mind to take stock of their supply situation.

“No,” she said. “There’s no need. It’ll only worry them. The first thing I’ll do when I reach Po is give it back to him.”

“Will we leave very early?”

Katsa’s eyes snapped to the child who stood before her, her face serious, one hand resting on the knife at her belt. The Queen of Monsea, in trousers and short hair, looking for all the world like a miniature pirate.

“You needn’t come,” Katsa said. “It’ll be a difficult journey. Once we reach Monport we’ll be traveling very fast, and I won’t lessen my pace for your comfort.”

“Of course I’m coming.”

“You’re the Queen of Monsea now. You can commission a great ship and travel in luxury. You can wait until the season turns.”

“And fret, here in Lienid, until you send word that Po’s all right? Of course I’ll come with you.”

Katsa looked into her lap and swallowed a lump in her throat. She didn’t like to admit how it comforted her, to know Bitterblue would be with her for this. “We leave at first light,” she said, “on a boat Ror’s furnished from the village nearby. We go first to collect Captain Faun and resupply her ship. Then she’ll take us to Monport.”

Bitterblue nodded. “Then I’m going to take a bath and go to sleep. Where do you suppose I must go to find someone who’ll bring hot water?”

Katsa smiled, mildly. “Ring the bell, Lady Queen. Po’s servants are a bit overtaxed at the moment, I do believe; but for the ruler of Monsea, someone will come.”