Katsa wanted to apologize to the merchant for uprooting him. She sent Oll to do so at the midday meal. When Oll directed the man’s attention to Katsa’s table, she raised her cup to him. He raised his cup back and nodded his head vigorously, his face white and his eyes wide as plates.

“When you send Oll to speak for you, you do seem so dreadfully superior, Your Ladyship,” Giddon said, smiling around his mouthful of stew.

Katsa didn’t answer. He knew perfectly well why she’d sent Oll. If the man was like most people, it would frighten him to be approached by the lady herself.

The child who served them was painfully shy. She spoke no words, just nodded or shook her head in response to their requests. Unlike most, she seemed unable to keep her eyes away from Katsa’s face. Even when the handsome Lord Giddon addressed her, her eyes slid to Katsa’s.

“The girl thinks I’ll eat her,” Katsa said.

“I think not,” Oll said. “Her father’s a friend to the Council. It’s possible you’re spoken of differently in this household than you are in others, My Lady.”

“She’ll still have heard the stories,” Katsa said.

“Possibly,” Oll said. “But I think she’s fascinated by you.”

Giddon laughed. “You do fascinate, Katsa.” When the girl came around again, he asked her name.

“Lanie,” she whispered, and her eyes flicked to Katsa’s once again.

“Do you see our Lady Katsa, Lanie?” Giddon asked.

The girl nodded.

“Does she frighten you?” Giddon asked.

The girl bit her lip and didn’t answer.

“She wouldn’t hurt you,” Giddon said. “Do you understand that? But if someone else were to hurt you, Lady Katsa would likely hurt that person.”

Katsa put her fork down and looked at Giddon. She hadn’t expected this kindness from him.

“Do you understand?” Giddon asked the girl.

The child nodded. She peeked at Katsa.

“Perhaps you’d like to shake hands,” Giddon said.

The girl paused. Then she leaned and held her hand out to Katsa. Something welled up inside Katsa, something she couldn’t quite name. A sort of sad gladness at this little creature who wanted to touch her. Katsa reached her hand out and took the child’s thin fingers. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lanie.”

Lanie’s eyes grew wide, and then she dropped Katsa’s hand and ran to the kitchen. Oll and Giddon laughed.

Katsa turned to Giddon. “I’m very grateful.”

“You do nothing to dispel your ogreish reputation,” Giddon said. “You know that, Katsa. It’s no wonder you haven’t more friends.”

How like him. It was just like him, to turn a kind gesture into one of his criticisms of her character. He loved nothing more than to point out her flaws. And he knew nothing of her, if he thought she desired friends.

Katsa attacked her meal and ignored their conversation.

THE RAIN didn’t stop. Giddon and Oll were content to sit in the main room and talk with the merchants and the innkeeper, but Katsa thought the inactivity would set her screaming. She went out to the stables, only to frighten a boy, little bigger than Lanie, who stood on a stool in one of the stalls and brushed down a horse. Her horse, she saw, as her eyes adjusted to the dim light.