Page 7 of The Threadbare Queen

It was definitely Tomas, her grandmother’s estate manager, and Velda, her grandmother’s housekeeper. They had helped her escape Grimwalt, and they had paid the price for it.

She wondered what had happened to the pack of dogs she had stolen from the Kassian general who’d overseen her captivity. Tomas had taken care of them after she left Grimwalt to find Luc, but if he was imprisoned, they had no one.

So, yes. She wanted to go back, for many reasons. And knew, all too well, that she couldn’t leave just yet.

“How do we find out who he meant, if he was being honest at all?”

Luc using the word ‘we’ soothed her.

She wasn’t in this alone. She knew it in her head, but sometimes her heart needed reminding.

She had been on her own for a long time before she met her warlord.

“Tomas was going to take Velda and the dogs to a friend. I don’t know who that was, but I’m sure the local village innkeeper would have known both Tomas and Velda. I could write to her and ask for information.”

“Then let’s do that.” He brushed his lips to her forehead. “The reason I came looking for you might offer an alternative way, though.”

She hadn’t known he’d specifically come looking for her, but she wasn’t surprised. “What other way?”

“A trade and diplomatic envoy has just arrived from Grimwalt.”

She suddenly remembered the glimpse she’d had of a man staring at her in surprise when she’d stepped into the tight circle of the crowd earlier.

She’d been too focused on solving the problems created by Redmayne to worry about him before, but now that worry sat heavy in her stomach, weighing her down.

She did not need a rumor to start about her being a spell caster. For one, because it was true, but also, it put a target on her back. Her cousin had held her and her mother for years, trying to force them to work magic to his advantage.

Her mother’s experiences as a young woman, kidnapped and traumatised for the same reason, had colored Ava’s entire life.

“Was one of them a man in his mid-thirties, short brown hair, a scruffy beard, in a black cloak?” She lifted her face to Luc’s and he frowned down at her.

“Not that I noticed, but they may have had servants or assistants who weren’t presented at the court.” He touched her cheek. “Why?”

“Someone like that seemed to notice me when I was handing the spell to Redmayne. I saw him look in my direction, and he was surprised.”

Luc tugged at the hood of her cloak. “Was this up?”

She gave a slow nod.

“So if he was able to see through the invisibility spell, he might not have gotten a good look at who was inside the cloak?”

“Perhaps.” It was something to hope for.

“And he might have only seen what I see. A dark, shadowy figure.”

She hoped that was true.

“And even if he did see you, he only knows you were wearing a spell-cast cloak. Not that you created the spells on it yourself.” Luc tugged at the wool tunic he wore beneath his own cloak. The spells woven into it were protective, making it impossible for an arrow, knife or sword to pierce it.

“That’s true.” She’d forgotten many rulers bought spell-worked items for protection, for advantage. Who was to say she hadn’t done the same?

Her hands trembled, just a little, as she let the thought settle on her. She had spent so long under the threat that any use of her magic that wasn’t specifically for her cousin’s use could get her killed, it clouded her thinking.

She leaned against Luc completely, and his arms closed around her.

“You help me see more clearly,” she whispered.

A shout from the street, someone calling Luc’s name, snapped both their attention back to reality.

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