“I’m happy to hear it,” Katsa said. “Is it information, or a request?”

The lord spoke around his mouthful of carrots. “Information.” He sliced another piece of venison. “It becomes more and more difficult to care for him, My Lady.”

“Why is that?”

“The elderly are prone to discomforts. It’s our duty to keep them comfortable,” he said, “and safe.”

Katsa nodded. “True words, indeed.” She kept her face even, but excitement rattled at the edges of her mind. If he had information about the kidnapping of the Lienid grandfather, they would all want to hear it. She reached under the heavy tablecloth and rested her hand on Giddon’s knee. He leaned toward her slightly, without turning away from the lady on his other side.

“You’re a man of great information, Lord Davit,” she said to the lord, or rather, to her plate, so that Giddon could hear. “I hope we’ll have the opportunity to speak with you more during your stay at court.”

“Thank you, My Lady,” Lord Davit said. “I hope so, too.”

Giddon would spread the word. They would meet that night, in her own rooms—because they were secluded and because they were the only rooms not traveled by servants. If she could, she’d find Raffin beforehand. She’d like to visit Grandfather Tealiff. Even if he was still sleeping, it would be good to see with her own eyes how he was faring.

Katsa heard the king speak her name, and her shoulders stiffened. She didn’t look at him, for she didn’t wish to encourage him to draw her into his conversation. She couldn’t make out his words; most likely he was telling some guest the story of something she’d done. His laughter rolled across the tables in the great marble hall. Katsa tried to push back the scowl that rose to her face.

The Lienid prince was watching her. She felt that, too. Heat licked at her neck and crawled along her scalp. “My Lady,” Lord Davit said, “are you quite all right? You look a bit flushed.”

Giddon turned to her then, his face flashing with concern. He reached for her arm. “You aren’t ill?”

She pulled back, away from him. “I’m never ill,” she snarled, and she knew suddenly that she must leave the hall. She must leave the clatter of voices and the sound of her uncle’s laugh, Giddon’s smothering concern, the Lienid’s burning eyes; she must get outside, find Raffin, or be on her own. She must, or she would lose her temper, and something unthinkable would happen.

She stood, and Giddon and Lord Davit stood with her. Across the room the Lienid prince stood. One by one, the rest of the men saw her standing, and rose. The room quieted, and everyone was looking at her.

“What is it, Katsa?” Giddon asked, reaching for her arm again. So that he wouldn’t be shamed before everyone in the hall, she allowed him to take it, though his hand was like a brand that burned into her skin.