He continued doggedly. “Yes, that’s true. But all you’ve told me about your struggles with Randa, Katsa, I needed to hear from your mouth. All you’ve told me about Raffin, or Giddon. When I met you in Murgon’s courtyard,” he said.
“Do you remember? When I met you, I didn’t know why you were there. I couldn’t look into your mind and know you were in the process of rescuing my grandfather from Murgon’s dungeons. I wasn’t even sure my grandfather was in the dungeons, for I hadn’t gotten close enough to him to sense his physical presence yet. Nor had I spoken with Murgon; I’d learned nothing yet from Murgon’s lies. I didn’t know you’d attacked every guard in the castle. All I knew for sure was that you didn’t know who I was, and you didn’t know whether to trust me, but you didn’t want to kill me, because I was Lienid, and possibly because of something to do with some other Lienid, though I couldn’t be certain who, or how he factored into it. And also that you – I don’t know how to explain it, but you felt trustworthy to me. That’s all, that’s all I knew. It was on the basis of that information that I decided to trust you.”
“It must be convenient,” she said bitterly, “to know if another person is trustworthy. We wouldn’t be here now if I had that capability.”
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I can’t tell you how sorry. I’ve hated not telling you. It’s rankled me every day since we became friends.”
“We are not friends.” She whispered it into the glass of the window.
“If you’re not my friend, then I have no friends.”
“Friends don’t lie,” she said.
“Friends try to understand,” he said. “How could I have become your friend without lying? How much have I risked to tell you and Raffin the truth? What would you have done differently, Katsa, if this were your Grace and your secret?
Hidden yourself in a hole and dared to burden no one with your grievous friendship? I will have friends, Katsa. I will have a life, even though I carry this burden.”
He stopped for a moment, his voice rough and choked, and Katsa fought against his distress, fought to keep it from touching her. She found that she was gripping the window frame very hard.
“You would have me friendless, Katsa,” he finished quietly. “You would have my Grace control every aspect of my life and shut me off from every happiness.”
She didn’t want to hear these words, words that called to her sympathy, to her understanding. She who had hurt so many with her own Grace, and been reviled because of it. She who still struggled to keep her Grace from mastering her, and who, like him, had never asked for the power it gave her.
“Yes,” he said, “I didn’t ask for this. I would turn it off for you, if I could.”
Rage then, rage again, because she couldn’t even feel sympathy without him knowing it. This was madness. She could not comprehend the madness of this situation. How did his mother relate to him? Or his grandfather? How could anyone?
She took a breath and tried to consider it, piece by piece.
“Your fighting,” she said, her eyes on the darkening courtyard. “You expect me to believe your fighting isn’t Graced?”
“I’m an exceptional natural fighter,” he said. “All of my brothers are. The royal family is well-known in Lienid for hand fighting. But my Grace – it’s an enormous advantage in a fight, to anticipate every move your opponent makes against you. Combine with that my immediate sense of your body, a sense that goes beyond sight – you can understand why no one has ever beaten me, save you.”
She thought about that and found she couldn’t believe it. “But you’re too good. You must have a fighting Grace as well. You couldn’t fight me so well if you didn’t.”
“Katsa,” he said, “think about it. You’re five times the fighter I am. When we fight, you’re holding back – don’t tell me you aren’t, because I know you are – and I’m not holding back, not a bit. And you can do anything you want to me, and I can’t hurt you – ”
“It hurts when you strike me – ”
“It hurts you for only an instant, and besides, if I hit you it’s only because you’ve let me, because you’re too busy wrenching my arm out of its socket to care that I’m hitting you in the stomach. How long do you think it would take you to kill me, or break my bones, if you decided to?”
If she truly decided to?
He was right. If her purpose were to hurt him, to break his arm or his neck, she didn’t think it would take her very long.
“When we fight,” he said, “you go to great pains to win without hurting me. That you usually can is a mark of your phenomenal skill. I’ve never hurt you once, and believe me, I’ve tried.”
“It’s a front,” she said. “The fighting is only a front.”
“Yes. My mother seized on it the instant it became clear that I shared the skill of my brothers, and that my Grace magnified that skill.”
“Why didn’t you know I would strike you,” she said, “in Murgon’s courtyard?”
“I did know,” he said, “but only in the last instant, and I didn’t react quickly enough. Until that first strike, I didn’t realize your speed. I’d never encountered the like of it before.”
The mortar was cracking in the frame of the window. She pulled out a small chunk and rolled it between her fingers.
“Does your Grace make mistakes? Or are you always right?”
He breathed; it almost sounded like a laugh. “It’s not always exact. And it’s always changing. I’m still growing into it. My sense of the physical is pretty reliable, as long as I’m not in an enormous crowd. I know where people are and what they’re doing. But what they feel toward me – there’s never been a time when I thought someone was lying and they weren’t. Or a time when I thought someone intended to hit me and they didn’t. But there are times when I’m not sure – when I have a sense of something but I’m not sure. Other people’s feelings can be very… complicated, and difficult to understand.”
She hadn’t thought of that, that a person might be difficult to understand, even to a mind reader.
“I’m more sure of things now than I used to be,” he said. “When I was a child I was rarely sure. These enormous waves of energy and feeling and thought were always crashing into me, and most of the time I was drowning in them.
For one thing, it’s taken me a long time to learn to distinguish between thoughts that matter and thoughts that don’t.
Thoughts that are just thoughts, fleeting, and thoughts that carry some kind of relevant intent. I’ve gotten much better at that, but my Grace still gives me things I’ve no idea what to do with.”
It sounded ridiculous to her, thoroughly ridiculous. And she had thought her own Grace overwhelming. Alongside his, it seemed quite straightforward.
“It’s hard to get a handle on it sometimes,” he said, “my Grace.”
She turned sideways for a moment. “Did you say that because I thought it?”
“No. I said it because I thought it.”
She turned back to the window. “I thought it, too,” she said. “Or something like it.”
“Well,” he said. “I imagine it’s a feeling you would understand.”
She sighed again. There were things about this she could understand, though she didn’t want to. “How close do you have to be to someone, physically, for your Grace to sense them?”
“It differs. And it’s changed over time.”
“What do you mean?”
“If it’s someone I know well,” he said, “my range is broad. For strangers, I need to be closer. I knew when you neared the castle today; I knew when you burst into the courtyard and leaped out of your saddle, and I felt your anger strong and clear as you flew up to Raffin’s rooms. My range for you is… broader than most.”
It was darker outside now than it was in her dining room. She saw him, suddenly, in the reflection of the window.
He was leaning back against the table, as she had pictured him before. His face, his shoulders, his arms sagged.
Everything about him sagged. He was unhappy. He was looking down at his feet, but as she watched him he raised his eyes, and met hers in the glass. She felt the tears again, suddenly, and she grasped at something to say.
“Do you sense the presence of animals and plants? Rocks and dirt?”
“I’m leaving,” he said, “tomorrow.”