“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.”

“I think . . . I said things to Silas. He'll be angry.''If he didn't care about you, you couldn't upset him,' was all she said.”

“He considered her seriously. "Well. And that's easy," he said. "My Grace will protect me from him, And I'll protect you. You'll be safe with me, Katsa.”

“Yes?""When you said you weren't angry...""Yes?""Were you?""I was rather annoyed," he admitted."But not angry?" She sounded as if she didn't believe him."Believe me, Henry, when I get angry, you'll know.""What happens?"His eyes clouded over slightly before he answered. "You don't want to know."She believed him.”

“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.”

“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.”