And what if his anger, when she returned to court without Ellis's daughter, inflamed her own? What would happen at court, if she stood before Randa and felt an anger in her hands and feet she couldn't contain? What would she do?

It didn't matter. When Katsa awoke the next morning in her comfortable bed in Giddon's castle, she knew it didn't matter what Randa might do to her, or what she might do to Randa. If she were forced to injure Lord Ellis today as Randa wished, it would set her into a rage. She sensed the rage building, just at the thought of it. Her rage if she hurt Lord Ellis would be no less catastrophic than her rage if she didn't and Randa retaliated. She would not do it. She wouldn't torture a man who was only trying to protect his children.

She didn't know what would happen because of this. But she knew that today, she would hurt no one. She threw back her blankets and thought only of today.

Giddon and Oll dragged their feet as they prepared their bags and their horses. "Perhaps we'll be able to talk him into an agreement," Giddon said, lamely.

"Humph," was Oll's only response.

Ellis's castle was a few short hours' ride distant. When they arrived, a steward showed them into the great library, where Ellis sat writing at a desk. The walls were lined with books, some so high they could only be reached by ladders made of fine dark wood that leaned against the shelves. Lord Ellis stood as they entered, his eyes bold and his chin high. He was a small man, with a thatch of black hair, and small fingers which he spread across the top of his desk.

"I know why you're here, Giddon," he said.

Giddon cleared his throat uncomfortably. "We wish to talk with you, Ellis, and with your daughters."

"I will not bring my daughters into present company," Ellis said, his eyes flicking to Katsa. He didn't flinch under her gaze, and he went up another notch in her estimation.

Now was the time for her to act. She counted three servants standing rigidly against the walls.

"Lord Ellis," she said, "if you care at all for the safety of your servants, you'll send them from this room."

Giddon glanced at her, surprise apparent on his face, for this was not their usual mode of operation. "Katsa – "

"Don't waste my time, Lord Ellis," Katsa said. "I can remove them myself if you will not."

Lord Ellis waved his men to the door. "Go," he said to them. "Go. Allow no one to enter. See to your duties."

Their duties most likely involved removing the lord's daughters from the grounds immediately, if the daughters were even at home; Lord Ellis struck Katsa as the type to have prepared for this. When the door had closed, she held her hand up to silence Giddon. He shot her a look of puzzled irritation, which she ignored.

"Lord Ellis," she said. "The king wishes us to talk you into sending one of your daughters to Nander. I imagine we're unlikely to succeed."

Ellis's face was hard, and still he held her eyes. "Correct."

Katsa nodded. "Very well. That failing, Randa wishes me to torture you until one of your daughters steps forward and offers herself to the marriage."

Ellis's face didn't change. "I suspected as much."

Giddon's voice was low. "Katsa, what are you doing?"

"The king," Katsa said, and then she felt such a rush of blood to her head that she touched the desk to steady herself. "The king is just in some matters. In this matter, he is not. He wishes to bully you. But the king doesn't do his own bullying – he looks to me for that. And I – " Katsa felt strong suddenly. She pushed away from the desk and stood tall. "I won't do what Randa says. I won't compel you or your daughters to follow his command. My Lord, you may do what you will."

The room was silent. Ellis's eyes were big with astonishment, and he leaned heavily on the desk now, as if danger had strengthened him before and its lack now made him weak. Beside Katsa, Giddon didn't seem to be breathing, and when she glanced at him, his mouth hung slightly ajar. Oll stood a little aside, his face kind and worried.

"Well," Lord Ellis said. "This is quite a surprise, My Lady. I thank you, My Lady. Indeed, I can't thank you enough."

Katsa didn't think a person should thank her for not causing pain. Causing joy was worthy of thanks, and causing pain worthy of disgust. Causing neither was neither, it was nothing, and nothing didn't warrant thanks.

"You don't owe me gratitude," she said. "And I fear this won't put an end to your troubles with Randa."

"Katsa." It was Oll. "Are you certain this is what you want?"

"What will Randa do to you?" Giddon asked.

"Whatever he does," Oll said, "we'll support you."

"No," Katsa said. "You won't support me. I must be on my own in this. Randa must believe that you and Giddon tried to force me to follow his order, but couldn't." She wondered if she should injure them, to make it more convincing.

"But we don't want to perform this task any more than you do," Giddon said. "It's our talk that propelled you to make this choice. We can't stand by and let you – "

Katsa spoke deliberately. "If he knows you disobeyed him, he'll imprison you or kill you. He can't hurt me the way he can hurt you. I don't think his entire guard could capture me. And if they did, at least I don't have a holding that depends on me, as you do, Giddon. I don't have a wife, as you do, Oll."

Giddon's face was dark. He opened his mouth to speak, but Katsa cut through his words. "You two are no use if you're in prison. Raffin needs you. Wherever I may be, I will need you."

Giddon tried to speak. "I won't – "

She would make him see this. She would cut through his obtuseness and make him see this. She slammed her hand on the desk so hard that papers cascaded onto the floor. "I'll kill the king," she said. "I'll kill the king, unless you both agree not to support me. This is my rebellion, and mine alone, and if you don't agree, I swear to you on my Grace I will murder the king."

She didn't know if she would do it. But she knew she seemed wild enough for them to believe she would. She turned to Oll. "Say you agree."

Oll cleared his throat. "It will be as you say, My Lady."

She faced Giddon. "Giddon?"

"I don't like it," he said.

"Giddon – "

"It will be as you say," he said, his eyes on the floor and his face red and gloomy.

Katsa turned to Ellis. "Lord Ellis, if Randa learns that Captain Oll or Lord Giddon agreed to this willingly, I'll know that you spoke. I'll kill you. I'll kill your daughters. Do you understand?"

"I understand, My Lady," Ellis said. "And again, I thank you."

Something caught in her throat at this second thanks, when she'd threatened him so brutally. When you're a monster, she thought, you are thanked and praised for not behaving like a monster. She would like to restrain from cruelty and receive no admiration for it.

"And now in this room, with only ourselves present," she said, "we'll work out the details of what we'll claim happened here today."

They ate dinner in Giddon's dining room, in Giddon's castle, just as they had the night before. Giddon had given her permission to cut his neck with her knife, and Oll had allowed her to bruise his cheekbone. She would have done it without their permission, for she knew Randa would expect evidence of a scuffle. But Oll and Giddon had seen the wisdom of it; or perhaps they'd guessed she would do it whether or not they agreed. They'd stood still, and bravely. She hadn't enjoyed the task, but she'd caused them as little pain as her skill allowed.

There was not much conversation at dinner. Katsa broke bread, chewed, and swallowed. She stared at the fork and knife in her hands. She stared at her silver goblet.

"The Estillan lord," she said. The men's eyes jumped up from their plates. "The lord who took more lumber from Randa than he should have. You remember him?"