Graceling (Graceling Realm, #1)

by Kristin Cashore

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

My range for you is . . . broader than most.”

“Uncle,” she said. “Let me explain what will happen the instant one of your men makes a move toward me. Let’s say, for instance, one of your archers lets an arrow fly. You’ve not come to many of my practices, Uncle. You haven’t seen me dodge arrows; but your archers have. If one of your archers releases an arrow, I’ll drop to the floor. The arrow will doubtless hit one of your guards. The sword and the dagger of that guard will be in my hands before anyone in the room has time to realize what’s happened. A fight will break out with the guards; but only seven or eight of them can surround me at once, Uncle, and seven or eight are nothing to me. As I kill the guards I’ll take their daggers and begin throwing them into the hearts of your archers, who of course will have no sighting on me once the brawl with the guards has broken out. I’ll get out of the room alive, Uncle; but most of the rest of you will be dead. Of course, this is only what will happen if I wait for one of your men to make a move. I could move first. I could attack a guard, steal his dagger, and hurl it into your chest this instant.”

“I’m leaving the court,” she said. “Don’t try to stop me. I promise you’ll regret it if you do. Forget about me once I’m gone, for I won’t consent to live like a tracked animal. I’m no longer yours to command.”

“Dear Katsa, I won’t bite.

“What’s seabane?” “I don’t know if you have another name for it in Lienid. It’s a small purple flower. A woman who eats its leaves will not bear a child.”

She would hit him, for his calmness, and his latest ability to count frogs and catfish he couldn’t see.

“Katsa, a man would be a fool to try to keep you in a cage.”

“when you’re feeling better. How to defend yourself, how to maim a man. We can use Po as a model.” The child’s eyes flicked to Katsa’s shyly, and then she looked into her lap. “Wonderful,” Po said. “It’s quite boring really, the way you beat me to death with your hands and feet, Katsa. It’ll be refreshing to have you coming at me with a knife.”

“Are you the better fighter?” “Yes,” Katsa said. “Far better,” Po said. “There’s no comparison.”

“Don’t be ashamed,” Po whispered. “Your sadness is dear to me. Don’t be frightened. I won’t die, Katsa. I won’t die, and we’ll meet again.”

“And now I’ve a ring to return to you. Your castle is a gorgeous place, just as you said.” The pain that broke across his face, the misery, was so acute that she gasped.