Graceling (Graceling Realm #1)(39)

“Why don’t you let him tell you about it?”

“I don’t crave the company of a mind reader.”

“He’s leaving tomorrow, Kat.”

She stared at him. “What do you mean, he’s leaving?”

“He’s leaving the court,” Raffin said, “for good. He’s going to Sunder, and then Monsea, possibly. He hasn’t worked out the details.”

Her eyes swam with tears. She seemed unable to control this strange water that flowed into her eyes. She stared at her hands, and one tear plopped into her palm.

“I think I’ll send him,” Raffin said, “to tell you about it.”

He climbed from the bed and came to her. He bent down and kissed her forehead. “Dear Katsa,” he said, and then he left the room.

She stared at the checked pattern of her marble floor and wondered how she could feel so desolate that her eyes filled with tears. She couldn’t remember crying, not once in her life. Not until this fool Lienid had come to her court, and lied to her, and then announced that he was leaving.

———

He hovered just inside the doorway; he seemed unsure whether to come closer or keep his distance. She didn’t know what she wanted, either; she only knew she wanted to remain calm and not look at him and not think any thoughts for him to steal. She stood, crossed into her dining room, went to the window, and looked out. The courtyard was empty, and yellow in the light of the lowering sun. She felt him moving into the entrance behind her.

“Forgive me, Katsa,” he said. “I beg you to forgive me.”

Well, and that was easily answered. She did not forgive him.

The trees in Randa’s garden were still green, and some of the flowers still in bloom. But soon the leaves would turn and fall. The gardeners would come with their great rakes, and scrape the leaves from the marble floor, and carry them away in wheelbarrows. She didn’t know where they carried them. To the vegetable gardens, she guessed, or to the fields. They were industrious, the gardeners.

She did not forgive him.

She heard him move a step closer. “How… how did you know?” he asked. “If you would tell me?”

She rested her forehead on the glass pane. “And why don’t you use your Grace to find the answer to that?”

He paused. “I could,” he said, “possibly, if you were thinking about it specifically. But you’re not, and I can’t wander around inside you and retrieve any information I want. Any more than I can stop my Grace from showing me things I don’t want.”

She didn’t answer.

“Katsa, all I know right now is that you’re angry, furious, from the top of your head to your toes; and that I’ve hurt you, and that you don’t forgive me. Or trust me. That’s all I know at this moment. And my Grace only confirms what I see with my own eyes.”

She sighed sharply, and spoke into the windowpane. “Giddon told me he didn’t trust you. And when he told me, he used the same words you’d used before, the same words exactly. And” – she waved her hand in the air – “there were other hints. But Giddon’s words made it clear.”

He was closer now. Leaning against the table, most likely, with his hands in his pockets and his eyes on her back.

She focused on the view outside. Two ladies crossed the courtyard below her, on each other’s arms. The curls of their hair sat gathered at the tops of their heads and bobbed up and down.

“I haven’t been very careful with you,” he said. “Careful to hide it. I’d go so far as to say I’ve been careless at times.”

He paused, and his voice was quiet, as if he was talking down to his boots. “It’s because I’ve wanted you to know.”

And that did not absolve him. He had taken her thoughts without telling her, and he had wanted to tell her, and that did not begin to absolve him.

“I couldn’t tell you, Katsa, not possibly,” he said, and she swung around to face him.

“Stop it! Stop that! Stop responding to my thoughts!”

“I won’t hide it from you, Katsa! I won’t hide it anymore!”

He wasn’t leaning against the table, hands in pockets. He was standing, clutching his hair. His face – she would not look at his face. She turned away, turned back to the window.

“I’m not going to hide it from you anymore, Katsa,” he said again. “Please. Let me explain it. It’s not as bad as you think.”

“It’s easy for you to say,” she said. “You’re not the one whose thoughts are not your own.”

“Almost all of your thoughts are your own,” he said. “My Grace only shows me how you stand in relation to me.

Where you are nearby physically, and what you’re doing; and any thoughts or feelings or instincts you have regarding me. I-I suppose it’s meant to be a kind of self-preservation,” he finished lamely. “Anyway, it’s why I can fight you. I sense the movement of your body, without seeing it. And more to the point, I feel the energy of your intentions toward me. I know every move you intend to make against me, before you make it.”

She almost couldn’t breathe at that extraordinary statement. She wondered vaguely if this was how it felt to her victims, to be kicked in the chest.

“I know when someone wants to hurt me, and how,” he said. “I know if a person looks on me kindly, or if he trusts me. I know if a person doesn’t like me. I know when someone intends to deceive me.”