Helda stood and smoothed her dress. “I’ll come to your rooms on occasion, My Lady.”

Katsa made her face like a rock.

“If you ever wish a break from your uncle’s state dinners, you may always join me in my room.”

Katsa blinked. She hated the dinners, with everyone’s sideways glances, and the people who didn’t want to sit near her, and her uncle’s loud voice. Could she really skip them? Could this woman’s company be better?

“I must return to the nurseries, My Lady,” Helda said. “My name is Helda, and I come from the western Middluns. Your eyes are so very pretty, my dear. Good-bye.”

Helda left before Katsa was able to find her voice. Katsa stared at the door that closed behind her.

“Thank you,” she said, though there was no one to hear, and though she wasn’t sure why her voice seemed to think she was grateful.

KATSA SAT in the bath and tugged at the knots in her tangle of hair. She heard Helda in the other room, rustling through the chests and drawers, unearthing the earrings and necklaces Katsa had thrown among her silk undergarments and her horrid bone chest supports the last time she’d been required to wear them. Katsa heard Helda muttering and grunting, on her knees most likely, looking under the bed for Katsa’s hairbrush or her dinner shoes.

“What dress shall it be tonight, My Lady?” Helda called out.

“You know I don’t care,” Katsa called back.

There was more muttering in response to this. A moment later Helda came to the door carrying a dress bright as the tomatoes Randa imported from Lienid, the tomatoes that clustered on the vine and tasted as rich and sweet as his chef’s chocolate cake. Katsa raised her eyebrows.

“I’m not going to wear a red dress,” she said.

“It’s the color of sunrise,” Helda said.

“It’s the color of blood,” Katsa said.

Sighing, Helda carried the dress from the bathing room. “It would look stunning, My Lady,” she called, “with your dark hair and your eyes.”

Katsa yanked at one of the more stubborn knots in her hair. She spoke to the bubbles gathered on the surface of the water. “If there’s anyone I wish to stun at dinner, I’ll hit him in the face.”

Helda came to the doorway again, this time with her arms full of a soft green silk. “Is this dull enough for you, My Lady?”

“Have I no grays or browns?”

Helda set her face. “I’m determined that you wear a color, My Lady.”

Katsa scowled. “You’re determined that people notice me.” She held a tangle of hair before her eyes and pulled at it, savagely. “I should like to cut it all off,” she said. “It’s not worth the nuisance.”

Helda put the dress aside and came to sit on the edge of the bath. She lathered her fingers up with soap, and took the tangled hair out of Katsa’s hands. She worked the curls apart, bit by bit, gently.