” ‘I know a Graceling when I see one.’ He jabbed with his sword, and she rolled out of the way. ‘Let me see the colors of your eyes, boy. I’ll cut them out. Don’t think I won’t.’
It gave her some pleasure to know him on the head with the hilt of her knife. [...] They would all say, when they woke to their headaches and their shame, that the culprit had been a Graceling boy, Graced with fighting, acting alone. They would assume she was a boy, because in her plain trousers and hood she looked like one, and because when people were attacked it never occurred to anyone that it might have been a girl. [...]
No one would think of her. Whatever the Graceling Lady Katsa might be, she was not a criminal who lurked around dark courtyards at midnight, disguised.”