Graceling (Graceling Realm #1)(15)

“In court they say you’re dangerous, My Lady.”

Katsa considered the old woman for a moment, her gray hair and gray eyes, and her soft arms, folded over a soft stomach. The woman held her gaze, as no one other than Raffin, Oll, or the king did. Then Katsa shrugged, hoisted a sack of grain onto her shoulder, and hung it from a hook on a wooden post standing in the center of the practice-room floor.

“The first man you killed, My Lady,” Helda said. “That cousin. Did you mean to kill him?”

It was a question no one had ever actually asked her. Again the girl looked into the face of the woman, and again the woman held her eyes. Katsa sensed that this question was inappropriate coming from a servant. But she was so unused to being talked to that she didn’t know the right way to proceed.

“No,” Katsa said. “I only meant to keep him from touching me.”

“Then you are dangerous, My Lady, to people you don’t like. But perhaps you’d be safe as a friend.”

“It’s why I spend my days in this practice room,” Katsa said.

“Mastering your Grace,” Helda said. “Yes, all Gracelings must do so.”

This woman knew something about the Graces, and she wasn’t afraid to say the word. It was time for Katsa to begin her exercises again, but she paused, hoping the woman would say something more.

“My Lady,” HeIda said, “if I may ask you a nosy question?” Katsa waited. She couldn’t think of a question more nosy than the one the woman had already asked.

“Who are your servants, My Lady?” Helda asked.

Katsa wondered if this woman was trying to embarrass her. She drew herself up and looked the woman straight in the face, daring her to laugh or smile. “I don’t keep servants. When a servant is assigned to me, she generally chooses to leave the service of the court.”

Helda didn’t smile or laugh. She merely looked back at Katsa, studied her for a moment. “Have you any female caretakers, My Lady?”

“I have none.”

“Has anyone spoken to you of a woman’s bleedings, My Lady, or of how it is with a man and a woman?”

Katsa didn’t know what she meant, and she had a feeling this old woman could tell. Still, Helda didn’t smile or laugh. She looked Katsa up and down.

“What’s your age, My Lady?”

Katsa raised her chin. “I’m nearly eleven.”

“And they were going to let you learn it on your own,” Helda said, “and probably tear through the castle like a wild thing because you didn’t know what attacked you.”

Katsa raised her chin another notch. “I always know what attacks me.”

“My child,” Helda said, “My Lady, would you allow me to serve you, on occasion? When you need service, and when my presence is not required in the nurseries?”

Katsa thought it must be very bad to work in the nurseries, if this woman wished to serve her instead. “I don’t need servants,” she said, “but I can have you transferred from the nurseries if you’re unhappy there.”

Katsa thought she caught the hint of a smile. “I’m happy in the nurseries,” Helda said. “Forgive me for contradicting such a one as yourself, My Lady, but you do need a servant, a woman servant. Because you have no mother or sisters.”

Katsa had never needed a mother or sisters or anyone else, either. She didn’t know what one did with a contradictory servant; she guessed that Randa would go into a rage, but she was afraid of her own rages. She held her breath, clenched her fists, and stood as still as the wooden post in the center of the room. The woman could say what she wanted. They were only words.

Helda stood and smoothed her dress. “I’ll come to your rooms on occasion, My Lady.”

Katsa made her face like a rock.

“If you ever wish a break from your uncle’s state dinners, you may always join me in my room.”

Katsa blinked. She hated the dinners, with everyone’s sideways glances, and the people who didn’t want to sit near her, and her uncle’s loud voice. Could she really skip them? Could this woman’s company be better?

“I must return to the nurseries, My Lady,” Helda said. “My name is Helda, and I come from the western Middluns.

Your eyes are so very pretty, my dear. Good-bye.”

Helda left before Katsa was able to find her voice. Katsa stared at the door that closed behind her.

“Thank you,” she said, though there was no one to hear, and though she wasn’t sure why her voice seemed to think she was grateful.

———

Katsa sat in the bath and tugged at the knots in her tangle of hair. She heard Helda in the other room, rustling through the chests and drawers, unearthing the earrings and necklaces Katsa had thrown among her silk undergarments and her horrid bone chest supports the last time she’d been required to wear them. Katsa heard Helda muttering and grunting, on her knees most likely, looking under the bed for Katsa’s hairbrush or her dinner shoes.

“What dress shall it be tonight, My Lady?” Helda called out.

“You know I don’t care,” Katsa called back.

There was more muttering in response to this. A moment later Helda came to the door carrying a dress bright as the tomatoes Randa imported from Lienid, the tomatoes that clustered on the vine and tasted as rich and sweet as his chef’s chocolate cake. Katsa raised her eyebrows.