His conversation wasn’t bad; he cared a great deal about his land, his farms, his villages, and Katsa found it easy to ask questions that he was eager to answer. At first he sat on the farthest edge of his chair and looked at her shoulder and her ear and her hair as they talked, but never her face. But he grew calmer as the dinner progressed and Katsa didn’t bite him; his body relaxed, he settled into his chair, and they spoke easily. Katsa thought him unusually good dinner company, this Lord Davit of the northeast. At any rate, he made it easier for her to resist tearing out the hairpins that dug into her scalp.

The Lienid prince was also a distraction, no matter how much she willed him not to be. He sat across the room from her and was always in the corner of her eye, though she tried not to look at him directly. She felt his eyes on her at times. Bold, he was, and entirely unlike the rest of the guests, who carefully pretended she wasn’t there, as they always did. It occurred to her that it wasn’t just the strangeness of his eyes that disconcerted her. It was that he wasn’t afraid to hold hers. She glanced at him once when he wasn’t looking. He raised his eyes to meet her gaze. Davit had asked the same question twice before Katsa heard him and turned from the Lienid’s uneven stare to answer.

She supposed she would have to face those eyes soon. They would have to talk; she would have to decide what to do with him.

She thought that Lord Davit would be less nervous if he knew there was no chance of Randa offering him her suit.

“Lord Davit,” she said, “have you a wife?”

He shook his head. “It’s the only thing my estate lacks, My Lady.”

Katsa kept her eyes on her venison and carrots. “My uncle is very disappointed in me, because I intend never to marry.”

Lord Davit paused, and then spoke. “I doubt your uncle is the only man who finds that disappointing.”

Katsa considered his pointy face, and could not stop herself from smiling. “Lord Davit,” she said, “you’re a perfect gentleman.”

The lord smiled in return. “You think I didn’t mean it, My Lady, but I did.” Then he leaned in and ducked his head. “My Lady,” he whispered, “I wish to speak with the Council.”

The voices of the dinner guests were lively, but she heard him perfectly. She pretended to focus on her dinner. She stirred her soup. “Sit back,” she said. “Act as if we were only talking. Don’t whisper, for it draws attention.”

The lord settled back into his seat. He raised his finger for a serving girl, who brought him more wine. He ate a few bites of his venison and turned to Katsa once more.

“The weather has been very kind to my aging father this summer, My Lady,” he said. “He suffers in the heat, but it’s been cool in the northeast.”