Graceling (Graceling Realm #1)(55)

The man seemed to enjoy being the center of Po’s attention. He glanced at his companions and lifted his chin. “Well, Lord Prince, he’s got hundreds of them, dogs, squirrels, rabbits, bleeding from slashes on their backs and bellies.”

Po narrowed his eyes. “Slashes on their backs and bellies,” he repeated carefully.

“You know. As if they’d run into something sharp,” the man said.

Po stared at him for a moment. “Of course. And any broken bones? Any sickness?”

The man considered. “I’ve never heard tell of any of that, Lord Prince. Just lots of cuts and slashes that take a wondrous long time to heal. He’s got a staff of children who help him nurse the little creatures to recovery. They say he’s very dedicated to his animals.”

Po pursed his lips. He glanced at Katsa. “I see,” he said. “And do you know what sickness the girls died of?”

The man shrugged. “Children are not very strong.”

“We’ve moved to a different topic now,” the biggest merchant said, interrupting. “We agreed to give you information about the kidnapping, not about this. We’ll be wanting more money to compensate.”

“And anyway, I’m suddenly dying of a sickness called boredom,” his partner said.

“Oh,” said the first, “perhaps you have a more amusing diversion in mind?”

“With different company,” said the man in the corner.

They were laughing now, the six of them chuckling over a private joke Katsa had a feeling she understood. “Alas for protective fathers and locked bedroom doors,” the partner said, very low to his friends, but not too low for Katsa’s sensitive ears. She surged toward the men before the burst of laughter had even begun.

Po blocked her so fast that she knew he must have started imperceptibly first. “Stop,” he said to her softly. “Think.

Breathe.”

The wave of impulsive anger swept over her, and she allowed his body to block her path to the merchant, to the two of them, to all six of them, for these men were all the same to her.

“You’re the only man in seven kingdoms who can keep that wildcat on a leash,” said one of the two men. She wasn’t sure which one, for she was distracted by the effect the words had on Po’s face.

“It’s fortunate for us she has such a sensible keeper,” the man continued. “And you’re a lucky fellow yourself The wild ones are the most fun, if you can control them.”

Po looked at her, but he didn’t see her. His eyes snapped, silver ice and gold fire. The arm that blocked her stiffened, and his hand tightened into a fist. He inhaled, endlessly it seemed. He was furious; she saw this, and she thought he was going to strike the man who had spoken; and for a panicky moment she didn’t know whether to stop him or help him.

Stop him. She would stop him, for he wasn’t thinking. She took his forearms, and gripped them tightly. She thought his name into his head. Po. Stop. Think, she thought into his mind, just as he had said to her. Think. He began to breathe out, as slowly as he’d breathed in. His eyes refocused and he saw her.

He turned around and stood beside her. He faced the two men; it didn’t even matter which of them had spoken.

“Get out.” His voice was very quiet.

“We would have our payment – ”

Po took a step toward the men, and they stepped back. He held his arms at his sides with a casual calmness that didn’t fool anyone in the room. “Have you the slightest notion to whom you’re speaking?” he asked.”Do you imagine you’ll receive a coin of my money, when you’ve spoken this way? You’re lucky I let you go without knocking your teeth from your mouths.”

“Are you sure we shouldn’t?” Katsa said, looking into the eyes of each man, one after the other. “I’d like to do something to discourage them from touching the innkeeper’s daughter.”

“We won’t,” one of them gasped. “We won’t touch anyone, I swear it.”

“You’ll be sorry if you do,” she said. “Sorry for the rest of your short, wretched lives.”

“We won’t, My Lady. We won’t.” They backed to the door, their faces white, their smirks vanished now. “It was only a joke, My Lady, I swear it.”

“Get out,” Po said. “Your payment is that we won’t kill you for your insults.”

The men scrambled from the room. Po slammed the door behind them. Then he leaned his back against the door and slid down until he sat on the floor. He rubbed his face with his hands and heaved a deep sigh.

Katsa took a candle from the table and came to crouch before him. She tried to measure his tiredness and his anger, in the bend of his head and the hardness of his shoulders. He dropped his hands from his face and rested his head against the door. He watched her face for a moment.

“I truly thought I might hurt that man,” he said, “very badly.”

“I didn’t know you were capable of such temper.”

“Apparently I am.”

“Po,” Katsa said, as a thought occurred to her. “How did you know I intended to attack them? My intentions were toward them, not you.”

“Yes, but my sense of your energy heightened suddenly, and I know you well enough to guess when you’re likely to take a swing at someone.” He half-smiled, tiredly. “No one could ever accuse you of being inconsistent.”