Last time, dickery.

Katsa is impatient to get back and find out if Teacliff knows anything. They reach the inn to retrieve their original horses, and she wants to keep going. The weather disagrees with her.

They’d only just made it to the stables when the skies opened and water poured down. Rushing streams formed between the hills around them.
It became an argument.
“We can ride in the rain,” Katsa said. They stood in the stables, the inn ten steps away but invisible through a wall of water.

Her companions disagree. Oll suggests that maybe the storm will let up soon, and Katsa sulkily says it doesn’t look like the kind that does. In my experience sudden torrential downpours are shortlived, but of course that’s dependent on area.

Katsa would have preferred no fuss to have been made over their presence. But of course the inn was unaccustomed to housing royalty, and the entire family threw itself into a dither in an attempt to make the king’s niece, the king’s underlord, and the king’s captain comfortable.

Why is she the king’s niece, anyway?

There’s no need for an explanation for why Katsa’s living with the king, since we were just told that all graceling babies are taken his castle, and due to that, I’d assume that gracelings would be outside the usual social structure. If the king owns them, you can’t have one still be the firstborn son of a lord who’ll have to go back home and run the place. And that would also explain why Katsa’s parents are missing from her life instead having them die of protagonist’s parent syndrome or whatever the actual reason will be.

What does it add to the story that everyone calls her Lady Katsa? What does it matter to her position in society? It seems like it’s just there because the author wants her to have the proper bloodline as another component of specialness. Hell, if “Lady” is so important to the author, just say that all gracelings get absorbed into the aristocracy as part of being raised by the king.

They end up displacing a merchant to give her the best room, and Katsa wants to apologize, but of course even that just terrifies the poor guy.

There’s a timid little serving girl, which I think is the third servant and third girl we’ve heard mention of. Katsa notices that unlike most people the girl can’t stop staring at Katsa’s face.

Clearly, says Katsa, this is because the girl is terrified of me too, as that’s the only reason anyone does anything ever.

“I think not,” Oll said. “Her father’s a friend to the Council. It’s possible you’re spoken of differently in this household than you are in others, My Lady”

So this isn’t even going to be the sort of story where the protagonist is really feared and has to work to overcome that, but one where it turns out lots of people already love her and the people who don’t are just dumb.

When the girl comes back, Giddon decides to explain that Katniss – that’s like the third time I’ve done that, dammit – Katsa is everyone’s savior.

“She wouldn’t hurt you,” Giddon said. “Do you understand that? But if someone else were to hurt you, Lady Katsa would likely hurt that person.”
Katsa put her fork down and looked at Giddon. She hadn’t expected this kindness from him.
“Do you understand?” Giddon asked the girl.
The child nodded. She peeked at Katsa.

This is really not a revelation. Once again, they live in a society where solving problems with sudden and bloody application of force is considered praiseworthy. You could repeat this sentence with any knight.

Something welled up inside Katsa, something she couldn’t quite name. A sort of sad gladness at this little creature who wanted to touch her. Katsa reached her hand out and took the child’s thin fingers.

This really isn’t sounding like the sort of person who hates babies. I’m just saying.

When the girl leaves, Katsa thanks Giddon, and Giddon says she should do more to not seem scary, and Katsa, instead of realizing that hey, being non-scary this time worked and maybe she should try doing that on her own, immediately sinks into a miserable sulk.

How like him. It was just like him, to turn a kind gesture into one of his criticisms of her character. He
loved nothing more than to point out her flaws.

Also holy shit why is that three sentences saying the same damn thing. Why would you ever put “how like him” in front of another sentence starting “it was just like him”? Why would you then repeat that sentence with different words?

After eating she goes into the stables to practice fighting exercises and finds a little boy grooming the horses.

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” Katsa said. “I’m only looking for a space to practice my exercises.”
The boy climbed from his stool and fled.

Okay, so in fairness, trying to be nice doesn’t work well for her.

She goes back in for dinner, which I guess is supper? I don’t think they were eating breakfast before. Anyway, time for news.

First they discuss that there’s been an announcement from King Murgon about a robbery. Yes, book, we know. I’m not sure why you’re so self-congratuatory over having characters discuss stuff where both they and we know what’s really going on. There’s some confused rumors about if it was a boy graceling or a huge man, and the king claims it was some treasure that was stolen.

They finally get around to something halfway new, which is that they wasted time on interrogating someone at the court because he was a graceling fighter. Katsa wants to know about that guy, and they brush her off by saying it’s not important.

“And have you heard any other news?”
“The innkeeper’s sister has a baby of three months,” Oll said. “They had a scare the other morning.
They thought one of its eyes had darkened, but it was only a trick of the light.”

Wow, Oll. Rude.

And also the grieving queen is still grieving.

“She’s closed herself and her daughter into her rooms. She permits no one but her handmaiden to enter, not even King Leck.”

Katsa feels bad. They haven’t told anyone they’ve rescued the prince yet, because they’re trying to figure out who stole him. Not sure why they can’t tell his own country since they’re sure the Lieys aren’t involved. But perhaps a message could be sent to the Monsean queen, to ease her strange grief?

You know what would be brilliant? If it’s all faked. What better way to find out who’s involved than be pretending concern? If she’s actually behind it, her display of grief might lure out whoever’s rescued him to reassure her.

Anyway, time for Katsa’s HOW DO YOU EMOTIONS bit with a side order of TRAGIC BACKSTORY.

She’d never felt grief, or if she had, she didn’t remember. Her mother, Randa’s sister, had died of a fever before Katsa’s eyes had settled, the same fever that had taken Raffin’s mother, Randa’s queen. Her father, a northern Middluns borderlord, had been killed in a raid across the border. It had been a Westeran raid on a Nanderan village. It hadn’t been his responsibility, but he’d taken up the defense of his neighbors, and gotten himself killed in the process. She hadn’t even been of speaking age. She didn’t remember him.

Big deal. You said all graceling kids are taken from their parents as babies normally.

Also why is it that her dad gets an actual backstory while her mom just gets killed by disease?

Plus hey look, the queen’s been removed too. And for some reason Pandaman doesn’t seem to have remarried.

She considers how she’d feel if the people she knows died. She’s fine with Pandaman dying. She decides she wouldn’t grieve over Giddon – well, that’s a bit cold. But she’d grieve for Oll. And her ladyservant, Helda. And Raffin. Raffin’s loss would hurt more than a finger sliced off, or an arm broken, or a knife in her side.

Well, at least we have one woman showing up alive and theoretically important to Katsa, even if it is immediately overshadowed by how very much she loves Ragamuffin.

But she wouldn’t close herself in her rooms. She would go out and find the one who had done it, and
then she’d make that person feel pain as no one had ever felt pain before.

And if they died of a disease?

Come on, Katsa. You can’t go two seconds without thinking about how your grace makes you different than other people, surely you can understand that not everyone is capable of punching their problems to death, or if you can’t, you just said your mom died of a fever so you clearly understand that not all problems can be punched to death in the first place.

And then they see the rain’s letting up and say they’ll be able to leave in the morning. Unless it rains again, I guess.