THEY RODE FAST and passed few people. The Port Road was wide, its surface a mixture of dirt and snow tramped down under the hooves of innumerable horses. Banks of snow rose on either side of the road, and fields of snow beyond them. Far to the west, they could just make out the dark line of the forest, and the mountains beyond. The air was icy, but the child on the horse before her was warm enough, and content to be pushed harder than was comfortable. The queen on the horse before her, Katsa thought, correcting herself. And Queen Bitterblue was very changed from the skittish creature she and Po had cajoled from the inside of a hollow log months ago.

Bitterblue would make a good ruler someday. And Raffin a good king; and Ror was strong and capable and would live a long time. That was three of the seven kingdoms in good hands. Three of seven, however inadequate it seemed, would be a vast improvement.

THERE WERE TOWNS along the Port Road, towns with inns. The party stopped occasionally for a hasty meal, or to seek shelter from the bitter late-winter nights. Their guard was the only thing that made this possible, for every soldier in every room they entered jumped up at the sight of them, hand to weapon, and remained in that guise until the explanations of the guard, and some words from Bitterblue, relaxed his vigilance. At one inn, the guard’s explanations came too slowly. A marksman across an empty room fired an arrow that would have hit Skye, had Katsa not jumped on the prince and knocked him to the floor. She was up again before Skye had even registered his fall, her body blocking the queen’s and her own arrow drawn; but the guards had intervened, and by then it was over. Katsa had hauled Skye up. She’d looked into his eyes and understood what had happened.

“He thought you were Po,” she said to Skye. “That archer. He saw the hoops in your ears, the rings, and the dark hair, and he fired before he saw your eyes. You should wait until the guards have spoken, from now on, before entering a room.”

Skye kissed her forehead. “You saved my life.”

Katsa smiled. “You Lienid are very outward in your affection.”

“I’m going to name my firstborn child after you.”

Katsa laughed at that. “For the child’s sake, wait for a girl. Or even better, wait until all your children are older and give my name to whichever is the most troublesome and obstinate.”

Skye burst into laughter and hugged her, and Katsa returned his embrace. And realized that quite without her intending it, her guarded heart had made another friend.

The party was swept upstairs to the briefest of sleeps. The archer was taken away, most likely to be punished soundly for loosing an arrow so close to a small gray-eyed girl who happened to be Bitterblue. And if the people living in the towns and traveling the roads did not yet know the details of Leck’s death, or suspect his treachery, at least it began to be understood in Monsea that Bitterblue was safe, Bitterblue was well, and Bitterblue was queen.