The year Bitterblue turned sixteen was the year she accidentally caught Katsa and Po.

Katsa had been rushing around the palace and grounds, organizing another round of self-defense lessons for the girls and women who wanted them, for the past two weeks. Bitterblue was coming to meet her for those lessons in one of the courtyards when she heard a shriek, clearly Katsa. Instinct had her running to help, even though she wouldn't be particularly much help, and even though Katsa could take care of herself.

Turning a corner, she was brought up short by the sight of Po and Katsa, tangled together on the ground, kissing and wrestling at the same time. Not a danger, at least.

She meant to back away, to leave them in private, and later she wouldn't have been able to explain what possessed her to shrink back behind one of the endless topiaries and watch through the leaves. Katsa was on top, now, one hand on Po's bicep, pinning his arm to the ground, the other hand tangled in his hair. He had his hands on her shoulder and her hips, clearly no longer fighting. She could see his tongue, and then a flash of teeth as he bit at Katsa's lower lip.

Bitterblue had to move. She couldn't stay-not with Po's hand working its way up under Katsa's shirt. This was private. It was also exceptionally public, in a courtyard of her own palace, but they were too caught up to notice that, and it wasn't an excuse to stay and watch. But she was also curious, intensely so. She understood the mechanics, but none of the feeling involved, and no one could claim Katsa and Po were lacking in feelings. Perhaps it wouldn't hurt to stay a moment or two longer, just to understand.

Curiosity won out.

Po managed to unbalance her and flipped their positions, his hips pressing between her thighs and both hands just above her shoulders, now, kissing her as if they had been years apart instead of weeks. It looked a little dangerous, from Bitterblue's vantage, and definitely intimate, all soft groans and harsh breathing. Katsa didn't seem to mind being pinned like this, at least, arching her back up against his chest. It made Po swear.

Balls. Po. Po would know she was here and watching, because how could she not think about Po when he had moved one of his hands again and was doing something between them she couldn't quite see that had Katsa practically shouting her impatience? He would know and stop, because he should, because this was public and what they were doing was so clearly private, and it slowly dawned on Bitterblue that he had not stopped. Neither of them had. Perhaps this took all of his concentration, and he had not noticed her presence. Perhaps they just didn't care. Torn again between flight before being caught and wanting to see, Bitterblue shifted in her hiding place, but did not leave it.

Whatever Po had been doing had clearly included undoing Katsa's trousers, as he pushed them down around her knees. With something like a growl, Katsa pulled them all the way off, making him laugh and kiss her again. His hand covered her, and they both groaned. Bitterblue tried not to make any noise as his fingers curled and pressed into her, but Katsa was not so restrained, letting loose a string of profanities. Katsa caught at the fastenings of Po's trousers and must have undone them, because Po moved his hand and then they were both groaning again. Bitterblue couldn't see what he had done, but she could guess-enough to wish she could see. He began to move his hips, Katsa moving always under him.

Now was the time to leave. They were too caught up in this to care about anything else. She stood, slightly shaky from having crouched for so long, and darted to the nearest arch into another part of the courtyards and then away-up to her rooms. The Lienid guard at her door didn't comment as she passed, and she collapsed gratefully against her bed.

It had looked fun, if possibly messy. Bitterblue liked to believe she would never choose to do that in a courtyard, where anyone could watch, but if she met someone she loved as much as Katsa and Po loved each other, she supposed there was no limit to what things she might do to show them. Feeling wistful, she lay on her bed daydreaming about what it would be like to be loved so dearly, until she fell asleep.