Po And Katsa Quotes

I'll teach you how to defend yourself, how to maim a man. We can use Po as a model.' 'Wonderful,' Po said. 'It's quite boring really, the way you beat me to death with your hands and feet, Katsa. It'll be refreshing to have you come at me with a knife.

Katsa sat in the darkness of the Sunderan forest and understood three truths. She loved Po. She wanted Po. And she could never be anyone's but her own.

He laughed. "I know you're teasing me. And you should know I'm not easily humiliated. You may hunt for my food, and pound me every time we fight, and protect me when we're attacked, if you like. I'll thank you for it.

Katsa and Po were trying to drown each other and, judging from their hoots of laughter, enjoying it immensely.

I'm not such a bad fighter myself," Skye said. Po exploded with laughter. "Oh, fight him, Katsa. Please fight him. I can't imagine a more entertaining diversion.

You know,” he said, “I wish you could see this cave.” “What’s it like?” He paused. “It’s...beautiful, really.” “Tell me.” And so Po described to Katsa what hid in the blackness of the cave; and outside, the world awaited them.

I've liked you better when Katsa's around,' Giddon said. 'She's so rotten to me that you seem positively pleasant in contrast.

He made her drunk, this man made her drunk; and every time his eyes flashed into hers she could not breathe.

She found him standing before the water staring unseeing at its frozen surface. He was shivering. She watched him doubtfully for a moment. 'Po,' she said to his back, where’s your coat?' 'Where’s yours?' She moved to stand beside him. 'I’m warm.' He tilted his head to her. 'If you’re warm and I’m coatless, there’s only one friendly thing for you to do.' 'Go back and get your coat for you?' He smiled. Reaching out to her, he pulled her close against him. Katsa wrapped her arms around him, surprised, and tried to rub some warmth into his shivering shoulders and back. 'That’s it exactly,' Po said. 'You must keep me warm.' She laughed and held him tighter.

She glanced up at him, and in that moment he pulled his wet shirt over his head. She forced her mind blank. Blank as a new sheet of paper, blank as a starless sky. He came to the fire and crouched before it. He rubbed the water from his bare arms and flicked it in the flames. She stared at the goose and sliced his drumstick carefully and thought of the blankest expression on the blankest face she could possibly imagine. It was a chilly evening; she thought about that. The goose would be delicious, they must eat as much of it as possible, they must not waste it; she thought about that.

Katsa turned to Po with tears in her eyes. 'He'll be so angry.' 'He won't stay angry forever.' 'Won't he?' she said. 'People do sometimes.' 'Do they?' he said. 'Reasonable people? I hope that's not true.' Katsa gave him a funny look, but didn't answer. Resumed hugging herself and kicking things.

He was handsome, like Po, and confident, like Po, and so much more authoritative in his bearing than Po could ever be. But - this Katsa came gradually to understand - he was not drunk on his power. He might never dream of helping a sailor to haul a rope, but he would stand with the sailor interestedly while the sailor hauled the rope, and ask him questions about the rope, about his work, his home, his mother and father, his cousin who spent a year once in the lakes of Nander. It struck Katsa that there was a thing she'd never encountered: a king who looked at his people, instead of looking over their heads, a king who saw outside himself.

There was no helping her tears. For they would leave Po behind… She cried into his shoulder like a child. Ashamed of herself, for it was only a parting, and Bitterblue had not wept like this even over a death. ‘Don’t be ashamed,' Po whispered. ‘Your sadness is dear to me. Don’t be frightened. I won’t die, Katsa. I won’t die, and we’ll meet again.

They seemed no closer to the tops of the peaks that rose before them. It was only by looking back, to the forest far below, that she knew they'd climbed.

As she left the room, Po went to Katsa, pulled her up, sat himself in her chair, and drew her into his lap. Shushing her, he rocked her, the two of them holding on to each other as if it were the only thing keeping the world from bursting apart.

Katsa now sat calmly on the stomach of her vanquished foe. "He was handsome," said said. Po moaned. "Was he beat-to-a-pulp handsome, or perhaps just push-down-a-flight-of-stairs handsome?" "I would not push a seventy six year old man down a flight of stairs," said Katsa indignantly.

Would you please do me the honor of telling me WHAT THE BLAZES IS GOING ON?

Suddenly Po shot into the courtyard from the north vestibule whooping. Katsa, seeing him, broke into a run and they tore at each other through the wash. Just before the moment of impact, Po shifted to one side, crouched, scooped Katsa up, and, with admirable precision, propelled them both sideways into the pool. ... Katsa and Po were trying to drown each other and, judging from their hoots of laughter, enjoying it immensely.

Katsa and Po had their arms around each other. It was difficult to tell if they were still wrestling or if the kissing had begun.

I’m bored to death. Perhaps I should pillage one of my neighbors for my own amusement. It seems to work for Drowden.

Katsa has wondered if a person could ever build wings to fly with." "What do you mean, to fly with?" said Bitterblue, suddenly irate. "You know what I mean." "You'll only encourage her to believe it can be done." "I have no doubt it can be done." "To what purpose?" snapped Bitterblue. Po's eyebrows rose. "Flying would be its own purpose, Cousin. Don't worry, no one would ever expect the queen to do it." No, I'll be left with the honor of planning the funerals.

Still doing your best to ruin the horses, I see.' Katsa froze. The voice came from above rather than behind, and it didn't sound quite like Skye. She turned. 'I though it was supposed to be impossible to sneak up on you. Eyes of a hawk and ears of a wolf and all that,' he said- and there, he was there, standing straight, eyes glimmering, mouth twitching, and the path he'd plowed through the snow stretching behind him. Katsa cried out and ran, tackling Po so hard that he fell back into the snow and she on top of him. And he laughed, and held her tight, and she was crying; and then Bitterblue came and threw herself squealing on top of them.

King Drowden has given his men instructions to infiltrate the town, bribe townspeople for the secrets of their neighbors, steal the neighbors’ hidden treasures. Much more subtle than Drowden’s usual smash and burn technique. We do hope Drowden isn’t growing a brain.

—No te avergüences —susurró Po—. Tu tristeza es preciada para mí, pero no tengas miedo. No moriré, Katsa. No moriré y volveremos a estar juntos.

Then he laughed, and the sound was a comfort to her, and she fought against the and silver lights that shown in his eyes, and lost. When he spoke his voice was soft. "And now I'm wondering," he said, "how it is you don't realize your eyes ensnare me, just as mine do you. I can't explain it, Kate's, but you shouldn't let it embarrass you. For we're both overtaken by the same--foolishness.

He didn’t wear his rings while they fought. He’d come without them the first day. When she’d protested that it was an unnecessary precaution, his face had assumed a mask of innocence. “I promised Giddon, didn’t I?” he’d said, and that fight had begun with Po ducking, and laughing, as Katsa swung at his face.

Katsa permaneció sentada en la oscuridad del bosque emeridio y comprendió tres verdades: amaba a Po, deseaba a Po, y nunca pertenecería a nadie, salvo a sí misma.

I know you don’t want this, Katsa. But I can’t help myself. The moment you came barreling into my life I was lost. I’m afraid to tell you what I wish for, for fear you’ll . . . oh, I don’t know, throw me into the fire. Or more likely, refuse me. Or worst of all, despise me,” he said, his voice breaking and his eyes dropping from her face. His face dropping into his hands. “I love you,” he said. “You’re more dear to my heart than I ever knew anyone could be. And I’ve made you cry; and there I’ll stop.” She was crying, but not because of his words. It was because of a certainty she refused to consider while she sat before him. She stood. “I need to go.” He jumped up. “No, Katsa, please.” “I won’t go far, Po. I just need to think, without you in my head.” “I’m afraid if you leave you won’t come back.” “Po.” This assurance, at least, she could give him. “I’ll come back.

How will you answer Giddon when he asks you to marry him?” Po asked. “Will you accept?” Katsa sat up, and stared at him. “That’s an absurd question.” “Absurd—why?” His face was clear of its usual smiles. She didn’t think he was teasing her. “Why in the Middluns would Giddon ask me to marry him?” His eyes narrowed. “Katsa. You’re not serious.” She looked at him blankly, and now he did begin to smile.

—Genial —intervino Po—; ya empezaba a aburrirme que me golpearas casi hasta matarme sólo con las manos y los pies, Katsa, pero que te lances sobre mí con un cuchillo será como un soplo de aire fresco.

Nor is he honorable,” Giddon said. “A man who fights you as he does is no better than an opportunist and no worse than a thug.” She froze. She stared at Giddon and didn’t even see his finger jabbing in the air, his puffed-up face. Instead she saw Po, sitting on the floor of the practice room, using the exact words Giddon had just used. Before Giddon had used them. “Giddon. Have you spoken those words to Po?” “Katsa, I’ve never even had a conversation with him when you were not present.” “What about to anyone else? Have you spoken those words to anyone else?” “Of course not. If you think I waste my time—” “Are you certain?” “Yes, I’m certain. What does it matter? If he asked me, I would not be afraid to tell him what I think.” She stared at Giddon, disbelieving, defenseless against the realization that trickled into her mind and clicked into place. She put her hand to her throat. She couldn’t catch her breath. She asked the question she felt she had to ask, and cringed against the answer she knew she would receive. “Have you had those thoughts before? Had you thought those things, while you were in his presence?

Tears came to her eyes. Mercy was more frightening than murder, because it was harder, and Randa didn’t deserve it. And even though she wanted what the voice wanted, she didn’t think she had the courage for it. Po thinks you have the courage, the voice said fiercely. Pretend that you believe he’s right. Believe him, for just a moment. Pretend. Her fingers were screaming, but maybe she could pretend long enough to get out of this room. Katsa raised burning eyes to the king. Her voice shook. “I’m leaving the court,” she said. “Don’t try to stop me. I promise you’ll regret it if you do. Forget about me once I’m gone, for I won’t consent to live like a tracked animal. I’m no longer yours to command.

She caught a smile in his eyes that flashed at her in the light. “What? What are you grinning about?” “It’s meant to be attractive to my wife,” he said. Katsa nearly dropped her knife into the fire. “You have a wife?” “Great seas, no! Honestly, Katsa. Don’t you think I would have mentioned her?” He was laughing now, and she snorted. “I never know what you’ll choose to mention about yourself, Po.” “It’s meant for the eyes of the wife I’m supposed to have,” he said. “Whom will you marry?” He shrugged. “I hadn’t pictured myself marrying anyone.” She moved to his side of the fire and sliced the other drumstick for herself. She went back and sat down. “Aren’t you concerned about your castle and your land? About producing heirs?” He shrugged again. “Not enough to attach me to a person I don’t wish to be attached to. I’m content enough on my own.” Katsa was surprised. “I had thought of you as more of a—social creature, when you’re in your own land.” “When I’m in Lienid I do a decent job of folding myself into normal society, when I must. But it’s an act, Katsa; it’s always an act. It’s a strain to hide my Grace, especially from my family. When I’m in my father’s city there’s a part of me that’s simply waiting until I can travel again. Or return to my own castle, where I’m left alone.” This she could understand perfectly. “I suppose if you married, it could only be to a woman trustworthy enough to know the truth of your Grace.” He barked out a short laugh. “Yes. The woman I married would have to meet a number of rather impossible requirements.

He rubbed his head. “I’ve always thought it strange that my mother and father have no suspicions about Leck, even knowing his story. And now these men seem to think him blameless in the kidnapping, even knowing he’s not.” “Can he be so kind in the rest of his life that everyone forgives his crimes, or fails to see them?” He sat for a moment, quietly. “I’ve wondered . . . it occurs to me recently . . . that he could be Graced. That he could have a Grace that changes the way people think of him. Are there such Graces? I don’t even know.” It had never occurred to her. But he could be Graced. With one eye missing, he could be Graced and no one would ever know. No one would even suspect, for who could suspect a Grace that controlled suspicions? “He could have the Grace of fooling people,” Po said. “The Grace of confusing people with lies, lies that spread from kingdom to kingdom. Imagine it, Katsa—people carrying his lies in their own mouths, and spreading them to believing ears; absurd lies, erasing logic and truth, all the way to Lienid. Can you imagine the power of a person who had such a Grace? He could create whatever reputation for himself he wished. He could take whatever he wanted and no one would ever hold him responsible.

As they rode, Katsa couldn’t content herself with imagining the strange landscapes ahead. For when she’d awakened to morning in the Sunderan inn, the windstorm of the night before had returned to her mind. Po’s Grace would protect Po from Leck. And Po would protect her. With Po, Katsa would be safe. He’d said it simply, as if it were nothing. But it wasn’t nothing for Katsa to rely on someone else’s protection. She’d never done such a thing in her life.

She couldn’t have him, and there was no mistaking it. She could never be his wife. She could not steal herself back from Randa only to give herself away again—belong to another person, be answerable to another person, build her very being around another person. No matter how she loved him. Katsa sat in the darkness of the Sunderan forest and understood three truths. She loved Po. She wanted Po. And she could never be anyone’s but her own.

Po?” His voice rasped with the effort of speaking. “Po.” He struggled to clear his throat and then lay still for a moment, exhausted. “Great seas, boy. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised to see you.” “I’ve been tracking you down, Grandfather,” Po said. “Move that lamp closer, boy,” Tealiff said. “What in the name of Lienid have you done to your face?” “It’s nothing, Grandfather. I’ve only been fighting.” “With what, a pack of wolves?” “With the Lady Katsa,” Po said. He cocked his head at Katsa, who stood at the foot of the bed. “Don’t worry, Grandfather. It was only a friendly scuffle.” Tealiff snorted. “A friendly scuffle. You look worse than she does, Po.” Po burst into laughter. He laughed a lot, this Lienid prince. “I’ve met my match, Grandfather.” “More than your match,” Tealiff said, “it looks to me. Come here, child,” he said to Katsa.

Come here, child,” he said to Katsa. “Let me see your eyes, for they make me stronger.” And his kindness brought a smile to her face, though his words were nonsense. She went to sit beside Grandfather Tealiff, and he and Po told her more about Po’s castle and Po’s brothers and Ror’s city in the sky.

Of course.” Katsa looked from one of them to the other, the two of them shaking hands, understanding each other’s concern. She didn’t see where Giddon came off feeling insulted. She didn’t see how Giddon had any place in it at all. Who were they, to take her fight away from her and turn it into some sort of understanding between themselves? He should’ve taken more care of her face? She would knock his nose from his face. She would thump them both, and she would apologize to neither. Po caught her eyes then, and she did nothing to soften the silent fury she sent across the table to him. “Shall we sit?” someone said. Po held her eyes as they sat. There was no trace of humor in his expression, no trace of the arrogance of his exchange with Giddon. And then he mouthed two words. It was as clear as if he’d said them aloud. “Forgive me.” Well. Giddon was still a horse’s ass.

You did amazingly well,” said Katsa, still clinging to Po, “getting those formulas the way you did.” “Oh,” I said, startled to realize she was talking to me. “Thank you.” She nodded. “If Bitterblue’s in the position to ‘build the entire world,’ or whatever she wants to call it, it’s because of you. Not Giddon,” she added, shooting Giddon a wry expression across the room. “Mm-hm,” said Giddon, who was reaching his fork around the table, scraping up everyone’s leftover cake. When he approached Helda's plate, she slapped his hand. “But I get to know all the queen’s secrets,” he said. “Did you hear?” “Indeed,” said Helda, narrowing keen eyes on him. “Is there a particular secret you and the queen have been meaning to share with us, Giddon?” “There is,” said Giddon, then pushed a hand through his shaggy hair. “We’re getting matching haircuts. But she wanted to tell you. Act surprised, okay?” Katsa snorted into Po’s neck. Then Giddon gave me one quick, sideways grin, and I had the sudden sense of the familiar.

I won’t have much responsibility as we travel through the forest together.” “Does it bother you? You’re welcome to do the hunting yourself. Perhaps I can stay by the fire and mend your socks, and scream if I hear any strange noises.” He smiled then. “Do you treat Giddon like this, when the two of you travel? I imagine he finds it quite humiliating.” “Poor Po. You may content yourself with reading my mind, if you wish to feel superior.” He laughed. “I know you’re teasing me. And you should know I’m not easily humiliated. You may hunt for my food, and pound me every time we fight, and protect me when we’re attacked, if you like. I’ll thank you for it.” “But I’d never need to protect you, if we were attacked. And I doubt you need me to do your hunting, either.” “True. But you’re better than I am, Katsa. And it doesn’t humiliate me.” He fed a branch to the fire. “It humbles me. But it doesn’t humiliate me.