PO HAD GROWN UP hearing of the Lady Killer. Her name was Lady Katsa of the Middluns, she had one eye as blue as the sky and the other as green as the Middluns grasses, and she was Graced with killing. Her Grace was revealed when she accidentally killed a man in court, and she had been killing for her king ever since, for all Gracelings on the Royal Continent served their kings.

Not many of the stories of the Lady Killer made their way to Lienid, but it was enough to help the young children in Lienid grow up with the reminder not to thieve or lie, or the Lady Killer would show up at their bedside come midnight. Now the Royal Continent was teeming with more stories, each one worse than the last. The Lady Killer was the most dangerous person in all the Royal Continent. The Lady Killer was a feckless thug who would stop at nothing to spill an innocent man's blood. The Lady Killer would flatten an entire village in a night if her king was wronged. They seemed to blend together, and Po's Grace told him the people considered it the truth.

And yet, the stories missed the part where the Lady Killer didn't kill without it being necessary. Her thoughts had been clear for the most part. She'd thought about how Po was Lienid and how the Lienid people factored into her going to Murgon's court. It was on that basis that she would not kill Po. After visiting Wester and now Sunder for news of his grandfather, Po had been running out of kings to blame for Grandfather's kidnapping, so he was glad for this lead. He would visit Randa City in the Middluns and meet with this Lady Killer. Her appearance was curious when connected to Po's grandfather's disappearance. Perhaps her king was involved. The Middluns had neither friends nor enemies, but Po had heard enough stories about her to know King Randa's doings against anyone who defied him, especially some of the border lords around the Middluns borders.

But Po would not let King Murgon know about her, not when King Murgon was certain that Po was the sole infiltrator yesternight. After Po was unsuccessfully interrogated by the king, he was released and ordered never to show his face in Murgon's court again. Po hadn't been too happy at that, so he'd stolen a horse, for he wanted to reach Randa City as fast as possible. Between riding and stopping for directions, the journey took two days, and long ones at that.

Po had pictured Randa City as a city of barbed wire, or something similar, given the rumors of the Lady Killer, but Po was proven wrong. Randa City was as grand as the innkeepers had said, but even grander was the castle in which Po, as a travelling prince, would stay. The white castle walls shown magnificently and the green marble floor was like emeralds in the morning light.

The castle was centered around a garden almost as beautiful as that of King Ror's, and vines and budding trees grew around a stone statue of King Randa. Po had never met King Randa before to pass judgement on the likeness of the statue, but he could not help admiring how it looked as it glittered in the light, with fountain water colored like sapphires flowing from one of the king's outstretched hands.

Po did admit, this courtyard had its beauty, but it lacked the privacy that King Ror's courtyard had, the one in which he and his brothers had grown up hand fighting. Randa's court attracted more traffic: ladies, lords, and countless stewards walking in and out of the castle.

Po would have tripped over several of them had he not had his Grace to help sense the people around him. His head was filled with the things they thought of him, how he stood out with his Graceling eyes and his Lienid jewelry. His eyes are as bright as King Randa's assassin, they thought with scorn.

One of the stewards bid him welcome to the court, took his horse, and had a room made for him. The steward was unsettled, however, at the appearance of a Lienid in the Middluns, especially the son of the Lienid king, for the Lienid people, those few who left their beloved island, tended to stay near the sea in Monsea or Wester. Po reassured the man, muttering about diplomacy and a proposition for the king, and the steward left Po to do as he pleased.

Unfortunately, his freedom did not result in success. In a matter of hours, Po had explored the castle and all its weaving corridors and corners and found nothing useful. Even worse, he sensed nothing of his grandfather. Perhaps he was with the Lady Killer, or perhaps he was not here at all.


Po had visited this part of the castle before, this dark and suspiciously empty part of the castle. He'd been about to go up to his room when his Grace strained to sense something, something fuzzy just on the outskirts of his sense. A couple quick movements and more labored breaths came, almost identical to what he'd sensed in Murgon's courtyard. He'd frozen midstep, then passed down into the corridor, narrower than the others, and with tiled walls uneven unlike the rest of the castle. Could Grandfather have been here?

Po's footsteps echoed down the corridor, empty of passersby and with considerably less people in the rooms as in the other corridors. The hurried feeling his Grace sensed turned into fear the further Po walked down the corridor. That fear grew when Po sensed a couple quick movements and more straining, like when he'd sensed in Murgon's courtyard. Had it meant that the same Graceling had followed him all this way? And why were they getting closer? Closer… as if... as if they were going to attack any — !

Po whipped out his knife as he whirled around to nothing but air and the emerald floor glittering in the candlelight.

"Show yourself!" he called, his voice echoing down the corridor. The presence froze at the sound of his voice, but despite what he could sense, Po was alone, his only companion a small mouse passing through a crack in the wall.

"Who are you?" Po added. "Why are you following me?"

The presence departed from his mind, leaving Po alone with his thoughts. How could it be? When he was so close? He'd thought those erratic glimpses right next to him. Po left his knife in its sheath and ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. He'd debated going back when a steward entered his mind.

Did I hear a Lienid? The steward poked his head out one of the doors in the corridor. "Sir, are you—?" He paused when he noticed Po's eyes, then stepped out entirely from the room, dusted his shirt off, and gave a quick bow. "Ah, Lord Prince Greening," he stuttered now. He lowered his eyes out of respect. "This is the stewards' part of the castle. May I help you?"

"You may," Po said. "Do you record the travellers coming in and out of King Randa's court?"

The steward nodded. "Of course, Lord Prince."

"Do you know if there is another Graceling at his court? Aside from me?"

Why does he ask? "No Gracelings at King Randa's court, Lord Prince. I'm sorry." There was no lie in his words. "Was anyone accompanying you?"

"No Graced fighters?" Po pressed.

Do his people take to that killer Randa keeps? "King Randa's court has seen no Graced fighters, Lord Prince, aside from the king's royal guard and the Lady Katsa," the steward confirmed. "Is there anyone you were looking for?"

Po ignored the steward's thoughts. "No, sir," he murmured. So this mysterious Graceling hadn't followed Po from Sunder. Or, if they had, they hadn't made themselves known to Randa's court. Whoever they were, their breaths and footsteps were gone now. It was nothing the steward would know about. "Would you take me to my room? I fear I've lost my way."

It shouldn't be too far from where we are now. The steward straightened his back. "Come along, Lord Prince."

Po thanked the man and followed behind him. A couple laundry maids passed by as the steward greeted them, and they paused to curtsy before Po, though they were largely disinterested. No useful thoughts came from the stewards other than the general descriptions that one would think of Po if he'd approached them.

As they walked, the steward informed Po of what his room was near to in the castle and of the lovely sights that Po had to visit while he stayed in Randa City. He meant well, but it was a dull affair, made duller by the fact that Po sensed the steward's fear whenever he looked into Po's eyes, the eyes of a Graceling. The Graced were not honored or free on the Royal Continent like they were on Lienid, Po had to remind himself. It was his princely titles that were saving him. Po kept his head down as he followed his escort, giving the steward his polite responses.

The number of people in the corridors began to grow as they walked closer to the entrance, back the way Po had come from. When they neared the glass doors to the library, the steward turned round to Po. "The library, Lord Prince," he informed him. "King Randa keeps a great variety of books—"

"Watch yourself!" Po exclaimed.

The doors flew open, and two young men carrying stacks of books, vials, and herbs burst through, coming Po's way. Po pushed himself and the steward to the side, narrowly avoiding the first man, though he could not spare the steward's shoulder brushing against one of the vials on the top of his stack. It shook from side to side, but before it could topple, Po leaned over and grabbed it.

The Graceling saved me! The steward's eyes were as wide as dinner plates. "My Lord Princes, I am terribly sorry!"

The first man, blonde-haired, turned his head to the steward, grinning. The man behind him had stopped, but they were a bit preoccupied with their loads for any thoughts to come to Po. "That's quite all right, Niel," he said. "This isn't the first time it's happened. I'm sorry for not looking where I was going. Who's—?" His eyes landed on Po.

Niel, the steward, took a moment to recompose himself. "Lord Prince of Lienid, Prince Greening, son to King Ror," he supplied. He looked to Po. "Lord Prince, do excuse me. This is Lord Prince Raffin of the Middluns, son to King Randa."

Prince Raffin gestured to the dark-haired man behind him, who gave a kind smile. "And this is Bann, my assistant." Does this prince have my headache cure?

Po held up the vial to Prince Raffin. "It almost fell, Lord Prince," he said.

"Ah, thank you for saving my headache cure. If you could…" It was then that Prince Raffin got a good look at Po. Great hills, this Lienid's eyes shine like stars... Bann's eyes shine brighter, of course. Prince Raffin adjusted his stack of books, vials, and herbs so that it leaned against his chest. "Right on top, in the center, would you? Very important."

"Headache cure?" Po couldn't help himself. As far as he knew, there was no such cure. He put the vial on top of Prince Raffin's stack.

"Yes," Prince Raffin said as he secured it with his chin. "I plan to try it as soon as we get back to my workrooms." Po sensed Prince Raffin and his assistant Bann's restlessness. "A pleasure, Lord Prince," he concluded, and after a nod, the two men were off as quickly as they'd come.

"My deepest apologies, Lord Prince," the steward said again to Po. I hope he doesn't make a complaint to King Randa. "Your room is not much further. Shall we?"

Po nodded his head and let the steward lead the way.


Being son of the Lienid king, Po had his fair share of formal dinners. He was well-versed in formal dinner etiquette, knowing just the right thing to say with the help of his Grace. But dinner with King Randa proved more interesting than those in Lienid. It began when Po stuck a knife in his boots. Weapons weren't typically allowed at a king's dinner, even in Lienid, but Po couldn't have been too sure given that he was going to confront the Lady Killer's king who'd had a good chance to have kidnapped Po's grandfather.

The king was loud and boisterous, a typical Royal Continent king. About a hundred lords and ladies sat at his tables, but Po found it curious that Prince Raffin and his assistant Bann did not attend. The king mentioned how perfectly his statue stood, how splendid his courtyard was during the day, how he'd ruled a farmer's case earlier today. Then he mentioned Lady Katsa's visit in Estill, how magnificent she was in keeping his kingdom safe from thieves. The more the king talked, the more energetic he became… so Po was caught off guard when the king's interest turned to him.

"It seems we have an honored guest with us. You come from Lienid, is it? Tell us of yourself."

The court grew quiet, all eyes on him. Po was suddenly bombarded with the lords and ladies' perceptions of him. Nonetheless, he managed to hide it well, for he had years of practice.

Po stood, his words slow. "I am Prince Greening Grandemalion of Lienid, seventh son to King Ror of Lienid. It is an honor to be welcomed into your court, Lord King. It is as grand as the stories have said and much more. I come in search of my kidnapped grandfather."

This was, of course, the right thing to say. King Randa seemed pleased, though disgust came after he noticed Po's eyes. He regarded Po calmly despite the growing ill feeling Po felt from him. Is he dangerous? Or has he come to wreak havoc among my court, like other Gracelings? "Lienid sent a Graceling," he decided. "Tell us, Lord Prince, what Grace you have?"

"Fighting, Lord King," Po replied. "Lienid misses their prince. They've sent the most qualified among them to find him. Lienid thought you best suited to know, for your spy network is renowned, and I've rushed at once to your court," he lied smoothly. "Do you bear any news of my grandfather?"

No thoughts from the king came to Po, not about his grandfather or about his Lady Killer in Sunder. "My spies tell me your grandfather was kidnapped three weeks ago. You ride fast to the Middluns, Lord Prince. I have no news, but I grant you stay until you have rested from your journey. Then you may leave for Estill. They have stolen three acres of my lumber, no doubt they have your grandfather."

The king was courteous, but Po's Grace told him King Randa was more concerned for his stolen lumber than for Po's grandfather, if he played a role in his kidnapping at all. Po would not tell him about his plan. "Of course. Lienid will remember your kindness, Lord King," he returned, and the king was busy talking of his accomplishments once more.

Po was the proper Prince Greening Grandemalion during the rest of dinner. He made smalltalk with the lords. He smiled at the ladies. He thanked the serving maids, for this was the Lienid way. But ultimately, he was glad when the king declared the end of dinner. The cool summer air outside felt euphoric as Po walked back to his room.

As he shut the door behind him, he heaved a sigh. He considered the ten golden rings on his fingers, one for himself and for each member of his family, including his grandfather. But now that he considered his grandfather's ring, twirling it around his finger, he thought that his grandfather was more like a father to him than his father the king was, especially when he was one of two people in all of the Seven Kingdoms who knew his real Grace.

The four-poster bed was as soft as beds came, even those in Lienid. It was another thing he could have appreciated had he not been preoccupied with his grandfather. He could almost hear the distant sound of the ocean lapping at the cliff face just below his castle back home in Lienid... He ran a hand through his hair and laid back against the pillows.

Maybe he would have better luck with Grandfather Tealiff tomorrow.