Page 42 of The Threadbare Queen

He just caught the glimpse of surprise before it vanished again behind the guile.

On either side of him, his own people went still at his words.

“I recognize them.” Revek moved his mount between Luc and Kikir and came to a stop shoulder to shoulder with Luc. “They’re from Fernwell. I saw them there about a week ago. They were causing trouble with some of our people.”

The one who’d slapped his chest in false bravado went pale beneath the gold of his skin, and glanced at his friend.

“They’re clearly not the same as the bedraggled group we left behind us,” Luc agreed. “Their uniforms are Fernwell crisp. I bet they guarded the gates or stood as the Queen’s guard before the city fell to us. They were never on the Jatan border, or fighting us in Bartolo or in the hills.”

“So, shall we kill them?” Kikir asked cheerfully. “They seem to expect it.” He grinned.

The man who’d thumped his chest swallowed, and backed away.

“Well?” Massi sounded impatient. “My arrow is notched.”

Luc looked over at her. Her face was impassive, but he could see a sparkle of amusement in her eyes. She was enjoying herself.

It warmed something in him.

“If you want—”

“No!” The one against the tree stepped forward, hands out.

“It’s fine for you to try to kill me, but I mustn’t return the favor?” Luc asked politely.

“Put like that,” Massi said, and lifted the bow to aim.

“We know things.” The chest-thumper glanced wildly at his friend and then back. “We were just following orders.”

“Whose?” Luc was tired of this game now. Either they talked, or he would kill them himself. He would not leave them at his back to strike again. He was in too much of a hurry.

His feelings must have shown on his face, because the two men drew together and began to babble out a story.

A story of being recruited off the streets of Fernwell after they had the run-in with some Rising Wave soldiers that Revek had witnessed.

The tale gave Luc pause. “This sounds quite organized.” He shared a quick look with Massi. “And after you’re gone, whoever’s gotten you out of the city spreads rumors that the Rising Wave have abducted you.”

“We don’t know anything about that.” Chest-thumper turned out to be someone called Gert, and his friend was Raymon.

“Blaming us for what they’re doing themselves.” Rafe shook his head at the hypocrisy of it.

“Let me be sure I have this clear. You were taken out of the city. Driven out here into the countryside in carts with others they collected, and told to wait until I came through?”

“Not just you.” Gert tugged on his jacket. “Any Rising Wave soldiers. But a messenger came earlier this morning, said you might be coming this way, toward Jatan . . .” He trailed off, realising mid-sentence he might not be doing himself any favors.

Luc focused on their uniforms. They seemed too neat for a week of living rough out in the open. “Where are you staying?”

“There’s a small manor house.” Raymon waved vaguely to the east. “We were put up there.”

Now things were starting to make sense.

The fucking nobles.

Luc hadn’t liked a single one of them from the start, although Ava had steered him clear of outright antagonism. He knew, and they knew, that their power was about to be snuffed out.

This was something he both understood and would relish dealing with.

If only he had time.

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