This was not the only such courtyard in the castle, but it was the largest, and it was the entrance point for any important residents or visitors. The green floor was kept to such a shine that Katsa could see herself and her horse reflected in its surface. The white walls were made of a stone that sparkled, and they rose so high that she had to crane her neck to find the tops of the turrets above. It was very grand, very impressive. As Randa liked it.

The noise of their horses and their shouts brought people to the balconies, to see who had come. A steward came out to greet them. A moment later, Raffin came flying into the courtyard.

“You’ve arrived!”

Katsa grinned up at him. Then she looked closer—stood on her toes, for he was so very tall. She grabbed a handful of his hair.

“Raff, what’ve you done to yourself? Your hair is positively blue.”

“I’ve been trying a new remedy for headache,” he said, “to be massaged into the scalp. Yesterday I thought I felt a headache coming on, so I tried it. Apparently it turns fair hair blue.”

She smiled. “Did it cure the headache?”

“Well, if I had a headache, then it did, but I’m not convinced I had one to begin with. Do you have a headache?” he asked, hopefully. “Your hair’s so dark; it wouldn’t turn nearly as blue.”

“I don’t. I never do. What does the king think of your hair?”

Raffin smirked. “He’s not speaking to me. He says it’s appalling behavior for the son of the king. Until my hair is normal again I’m not his son.”

Oll and Giddon greeted Raffin and handed their reins to a boy. They followed the king’s steward into the castle, leaving Katsa and Raffin alone in the courtyard, near the garden and the splashing of Randa’s fountain. Katsa lowered her voice and pretended to focus on the straps that tied her saddlebags to her horse. “Any news?”

“He hasn’t woken,” Raffin said. “Not once.”

She was disappointed. She kept her voice low. “Have you heard of a Lienid noble Graced with fighting?”

“You saw him, did you?” Raffin said, and she swung her eyes to his face, surprised. “As you came into the courtyard? He’s been lurking around. Hard to look that one in the eyes, eh? He’s the son of the Lienid king.”

He was here? She hadn’t expected that. She focused on her saddlebags once more. “Ror’s heir?”

“Great hills, no. He has six older brothers. His name is the silliest I’ve heard for the seventh heir to a throne. Prince Greening Grandemalion.” Raffin smiled. “Have you ever heard the like?”

“Why is he here?”

“Ah,” Raffin said. “It’s quite interesting, really. He claims to be searching for his kidnapped grandfather.”

Katsa looked up from her bags, into his laughing blue eyes. “You haven’t—”

“Of course not. I’ve been waiting for you.”

A boy came for her horse, and Raffin launched into a monologue about the visitors she’d missed while she was gone. Then a steward approached from one of the entrances.