A steward of the court came to him then and spoke to him. He straightened, turned to the man, and said something in response. When the steward walked away, the Lienid’s eyes flashed back to Katsa’s. He leaned his elbows on the railing again.

Katsa knew she was standing in the courtyard’s center, staring at this Lienid. She knew she should move, but she found that she couldn’t.

Then he raised his eyebrows a hair, and his mouth shifted into the hint of a smirk. He nodded at her, just barely, and it released her from her spell.

Cocky, she thought. Cocky and arrogant, this one, and that was all there was to make of him. Whatever game he was playing, if he expected her to join him he would be disappointed. Greening Grandemalion, indeed.

She tore her eyes away from his, hitched her bags higher, and pushed herself forward into the castle, all the while conscious of the strange eyes burning into her back.

Chapter Seven

HELDA HAD COME to work in Randa’s nurseries around the same time Katsa began to dole out Randa’s punishments. It was hard to know why she’d been less frightened of Katsa than others were. Perhaps it was because she had borne a Graceling child of her own. Not a fighter, only a swimmer, a skill that was of no use to the king. So the boy had been sent home, and Helda had seen how the neighbors avoided and ridiculed him simply because he could move through the water like a fish. Or because he had one eye black, and the other blue. Perhaps this was why when the servants had warned Helda to avoid the king’s niece, Helda had reserved her opinion.

Of course, Katsa had been too old for the nurseries when Helda arrived, and the children of the court had kept Helda busy. But she’d come to Katsa’s training sessions, when she could. She’d sat and watched the child beat the stuffing out of a dummy, grain bursting from cracks and tears in the sack and slapping onto the floor like spurting blood. She’d never stayed long, because she always needed to return to the nursery, but still Katsa had noticed her, as she noticed anyone who didn’t try to avoid her. Had noticed and noted her, but hadn’t troubled herself with curiosity. Katsa had had no reason to interact with a woman servant.

But one day Helda had come when Oll was away and Katsa was alone in the practice rooms. And when the child had paused to set up a new dummy, Helda had spoken.

“In court they say you’re dangerous, My Lady.”

Katsa considered the old woman for a moment, her gray hair and gray eyes, and her soft arms, folded over a soft stomach. The woman held her gaze, as no one other than Raffin, Oll, or the king did. Then Katsa shrugged, hoisted a sack of grain onto her shoulder, and hung it from a hook on a wooden post standing in the center of the practice-room floor.