“Yes, I’m devastated about the dress.”

Raffin smiled. He took hold of her arms and held her out from him so that he could look her up and down. He laughed.

“What can be so funny,” Katsa said, “to a prince who’s turned his hair blue?”

“You look like you’ve been in a fight,” he said, “for the first time in your life.”

KATSA HAD five rooms. Her sleeping room, decorated with dark draperies and wall hangings that Helda had chosen because Katsa had refused to form an opinion on the matter. Her bathing room, white marble, large and cold, functional. Her dining room, with windows looking onto the courtyard, and a small table where she ate, sometimes with Raffin or Helda, or with Giddon when he wasn’t driving her to distraction. Her sitting room, full of soft chairs and pillows that Helda, again, had chosen. She didn’t use the sitting room.

The fifth room used to be her workroom, but she couldn’t remember the last time she’d embroidered or crocheted, or darned a stocking. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d worn a stocking, truth be told. She’d turned the room into a place for the storage of her weapons: swords, daggers, knives, bows, and staffs lined the walls. She’d fitted the room with a solid, square table, and now the Council meetings were held there.

Katsa bathed for the second time that day and knotted her wet hair behind her head. She fed her dress to the sleeping-room fire and watched its smoky demise with great satisfaction. A boy arrived who was to keep watch during the Council meeting. Katsa went into the weapons room and lit the torches that hung on the walls between her knives and bows.

Raffin and Po were the first to arrive. Po’s hair was damp from his own bath. The skin had blackened around his eye, the gold eye, and made his gaze even more rakish and uneven than it had been before. He slouched against the table with his hands in his pockets. His eyes flashed around the room, taking in Katsa’s collection of weapons. Po was wearing a new shirt, open at the neck and with the sleeves rolled to the elbows. His forearms were as sun darkened as his face. She didn’t know why she should notice. She found herself frowning.

“Sit, Your High Majestic Lord Princes,” she said. She yanked a chair from the table and sat down herself.

“You’re in fine temper,” Raffin said.

“Your hair is blue,” Katsa snapped back.

Oll strode into the room. At the sight of the scratch on Katsa’s face, his mouth dropped open. He turned to Po and saw the black eye. He turned back to Katsa. He began to chuckle. He slapped his hand on the table, and the chuckle turned into a roar. “How I would love to have seen that fight, My Lady. Oh, how I would love to have seen it.”

Po was smiling. “The lady won, which I doubt will surprise you.”