He stopped, his brow furrowed. He kicked the floor. “I’ve a feeling Monsea has something to do with it. I don’t know if it’s my Grace, or just instinct. Anyway, I’m going back to Sunder, to see what I can learn of it. Grandfather’s doing better, but for his own sake I want him to stay hidden until I get to the bottom of this.”

That was it, then. He was going to Sunder, to get to the bottom of it. And it was good that he was going, for she didn’t want him in her head.

But neither did she want him to go. And he must know that, since she had thought it. And now, did he know that she knew that he knew, since she had thought that, too?

This was absurd, it was impossible. Being with him was impossible.

But still she didn’t want him to go.

“I hoped you would come with me,” he said, and she stared at him, openmouthed. “We’d make a good team. I don’t even know where I’m going, for sure. But I hoped you would consider coming. If you’re still my friend.”

She couldn’t think what to say. “Doesn’t your Grace tell you if I’m your friend?”

“Do you know, yourself?”

She tried to think, but there was nothing in her mind. She knew only that she was numb and sad and completely without any clarity of feeling.

“I can’t know your feelings,” he said, “if you don’t know them yourself.”

He looked to the door suddenly; and then there was a knock, and a steward burst in without waiting for Katsa’s response. At the sight of his pale, tight face, it all came flooding back to her. Randa. Randa wanted to see her, most likely wanted to kill her. Before this confusion with Po, she had disobeyed Randa.

“The king orders you to come before him at once, My Lady,” the steward said. “Forgive me, My Lady. He says that if you don’t, he’ll send his entire guard to fetch you.”

“Very well,” Katsa said. “Tell him I’ll go to him immediately.”

“Thank you, My Lady.” The steward turned and scampered away.

Katsa scowled after him. “His entire guard. What does he think they could do to me? I should’ve told the steward to send them, just for the amusement of it.” She looked around the room. “I wonder if I should take a knife.”

Po watched her with narrowed eyes. “What have you done? What’s this about?”

“I’ve disobeyed him. He sent me to torture some poor, innocent lord, and I decided I wouldn’t. Do you think I should take a knife?” She walked across to her weapons room.

He followed her. “To do what? What do you think will happen at this meeting?”

“I don’t know, I don’t know. Oh, Po, if he angers me, I fear I’ll want to kill him. And what if he threatens me and gives me no choice?” She threw herself into a chair and dropped her head down on the Council table. How could she go to Randa now, of all times, when there was a whirlwind in her head? She would lose herself at the sound of his voice. She would do something dreadful.