“It’s so amusing,” Randa said, “to see you struggling with an opponent, Katsa.”

“I’m glad it gives you amusement, Lord King.”

“Prince Greening. How do you find our lady killer?”

“She’s the superior fighter by far, Lord King,” Po said. “If she didn’t hold herself back, I’d be in great trouble.”

Randa laughed. “Indeed. I’ve noticed it’s you who comes to dinner with bruises, and not she.”

Pride in his possession. Katsa forced herself to unclench her fists. She forced herself to breathe, to hold her uncle’s gaze even though she wanted to scratch the leer from his face.

“Katsa,” the king said. “Come to me later today. I have a job for you.”

“Yes, Lord King,” she said. “Thank you, Lord King.”

Randa leaned back on his heels and surveyed the room. Then, with his stewards rushing into their places behind him, he exited with a great swish of blue robes, and Katsa stared after him until he and his entourage had vanished; and then she stared at the door the stewards slammed behind him.

Around the room, slowly, lords and soldiers sat down. Katsa was vaguely aware of their movements. Vaguely aware of Po’s eyes on her face, watching her, silently.

“What’s it to be now, Katsa?”

She knew what she wanted. She felt it shooting down her arms and into her fingers, tingling in her legs and feet. “A straight fight,” she said. “Anything fair. Until one of us surrenders.”

Po narrowed his eyes. He considered her tight fists and her hard mouth. “We’ll have that fight, but we’ll have it tomorrow. We’re done for today.”

“No. We fight.”

“Katsa. We’re done.”

She stalked up to him, close, so that no one else could hear. “What’s the matter, Po? Do you fear me?”

“Yes, I fear you, as I should when you’re angry. I won’t fight you when you’re angry. Nor should you fight me when I’m angry. That’s not the purpose of these practices.”

And when he told her she was angry, she realized it was true. And just as quickly, her anger fizzled into despair. Randa would send her on another strong-arm mission. He would send her to hurt some poor petty criminal, some fool who deserved to keep his fingers even if he was dishonorable. He would send her, and she must go, for the power sat with him.

THEY ATE in her dining room. Katsa stared at her plate. He was talking about his brothers, how his brothers would love to see their practices. She must come to Lienid one day and fight with him for his family. They’d be amazed by her skill, and they’d honor her greatly. And he could show her the most beautiful sights in his father’s city.

She wasn’t listening. She was picturing the arms she’d broken for her uncle. The arms, bent the wrong way at the elbow, bone splinters sticking through the skin. He said something about his shoulder, and she shook herself, and looked at him.