Page 9 of The Threadbare Queen

Rafe grunted in agreement.

One thing bothered him almost as much, though. “Why am I only hearing about this now?”

Rafe rubbed his chin. “Because there was no sense waking you. It was over, and there was no immediate threat. You were with Ava, and we . . . I . . . thought you could do with a little time off.”

His temper had been more than a little stretched since he’d had to start dealing with the Fernwell city council and the nobles, Luc admitted to himself. He needed to rein himself in, before no one told him anything at all.

They reached the arched gate and nodded to the guards. Rafe lifted his hand to a small group of soldiers standing around a fire pit.

“Frederik!”

The young soldier turned and came to attention, then jogged over to them, expression eager.

The scar on his cheek was a thin, silver line against the warm brown of his skin. Luc studied it, and thought Ava would be relieved to know the scar was still visible.

Frederik noticed him looking and touched a fingertip to the scar. “It’s fully healed, Commander.”

“So I see.”

Rafe waved off the conversation with a chop of his hand. “Get a partner, and go find where the Grimwaldian envoy that arrived today went after they presented themselves at the palace.”

“Yes, sir.” Frederik seemed delighted. “Covertly?”

“Covertly.” Rafe’s eyes narrowed. “Be discrete. Find out how many of them there are, and if you can, what they’ve been up to since they arrived.”

Frederik rushed back to the group he’d been standing with, and collected Talura, a young soldier from the Funabi forces who’d been part of a team Luc had led in the past. The two of them raced past Luc and Rafe, back into the city.

“Almost painfully eager,” Rafe said, with a shake of his head.

“He’s loyal. And eager isn’t a bad attribute.”

“We were never eager,” Rafe said.

“We were pressed into service, stolen and forced to fight. We were never going to be eager.” Luc had made the Kassians pay for that, but nothing could bring back his childhood.

Rafe grunted in agreement and they walked in silence toward the main tent.

Outside, a horse had been tied to a pole, and Luc realised why Rafe had said so little about why he was urgently needed in the camp.

He had sent watchers to keep an eye on the Jatan border when the Rising Wave had started moving toward Fernwell.

The Jatan had been very conveniently keeping some of the Kassian forces occupied at the time, fighting border skirmishes, and he'd wanted to know if or when that situation changed.

He recognized the colours woven into the saddlebag as being those of one of his scouts.

He said nothing, but Rafe caught his eye and the look that passed between them was a mix of excitement and dread.

As Luc stepped through the tent flaps, Dak was the first person he saw. His lieutenant stood beside a table, and the rider of the horse, hair sweat-soaked, cloak stained with travel, leaned against it beside him.

“Kym.”

She turned, her face lighting up at the sight of him.

“I won’t embrace you, Commander. I stink. But it’s good to see you.”

“You heard we won.” He hoped that’s why she was here.

She shook her head. “I heard about your victory when I reached Bartolo, not that I trusted the news completely, but that’s not why I came looking for the Rising Wave.”

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