LATER THAT EVENING, as Katsa prepared for bed, two girls came to her room to cut her hair. “Is it too late, My Lady?” asked the elder, who carried scissors and a brush.

“No. The sooner I have it off, the better. Please, come in.”

They were young, younger than the serving girl. The younger, a child of ten or eleven years, carried a broom and a dustpan. They sat Katsa down and moved around her shyly. They spoke little. Breathless around her, not quite frightened but near to it. The older girl untied Katsa’s hair and began to work her fingers through the tangle. “Forgive me if I hurt you, My Lady.”

“It won’t hurt me,” Katsa said. “And you needn’t unravel the knots. I want you to cut it all off, as short as you can. As short as a man’s.”

The eyes of both girls widened. “I’ve cut the hair of many men,” the older girl said.

“You may cut mine just as you’ve cut theirs,” Katsa said. “The shorter you cut it, the happier I’ll be.”

The scissors snipped around Katsa’s ears, and her head grew lighter and lighter. How odd to turn her neck and not feel the pull of hair, the heavy snarl swinging around behind her. The younger girl held the broom and swept the hair clippings away the instant they fell to the floor.

“Is it your sister I saw serving drinks in the eating room?” Katsa asked.

“Yes, My Lady.”

“How old is she?”

“Sixteen, My Lady.”

“And you?”

“I’m fourteen, and my sister eleven, My Lady.”

Katsa watched the younger girl collecting hair with a broom taller than she was.

“Does anyone teach the girls of the inn to protect themselves?” she asked. “Do you carry a knife?”

“Our father protects us, and our brother,” the girl said, simply.

The girls clipped and swept, and Katsa’s hair fell away. She thrilled at the unfamiliar chill of air on her neck. And wondered if other girls in Sunder, and across the seven kingdoms, carried knives; or if they all looked to their fathers and brothers for every protection.

A KNOCK woke her. She sat up. It came from the door that adjoined her room to Po’s. She hadn’t been asleep long, and it was midnight; and enough moonlight spilled through her window so that if it wasn’t Po who knocked, and if it was an enemy, she could see well enough to beat the person senseless. All these thoughts swept through her mind in the instant she sat up.

“Katsa, it’s only I,” his voice called, through the keyhole. “It’s a double lock. You must unlock it from your side.”

She rolled out of bed. And where was the key?

“My key was hanging beside the door,” he called, and she took a moment to glare in his general direction.

“I only guessed you were looking for the key. It wasn’t my Grace, so you needn’t get all huffy about it.”