Page 99 of The Threadbare Queen

Ava hovered behind one of the trees on the roadside where the caravan had pulled over and watched Sirna lose his temper.

The sky was clear again, the storm had blown over, but the air was even crisper than it had been the day before. She was glad of the thick coat and the knitted cap that covered her ears, and she huddled into them as the drama unfolded.

It had taken Sirna until now, at the midday stop, to realize she was gone.

Even if she had run, with him still in possession of the Focus, she might actually have had a chance, she realized.

Gregor had done an excellent job the night before, breaking out a bottle of spirits that had kept the laughter and shouting going late into the night.

Vanin Gruger and Gregor had been up first, and they had packed up everything, including her tent, and urged the others to get moving, so that Sirna had merely stumbled from the back of the cart onto the driver’s seat, and had sat, sipping the hot brew Vanin Gruger had passed around to everyone before he doused the fire, as the horse pulled them ever closer to Grimwalt’s border.

Ava had weighed her escape options all night as she sewed invisibility into the knitted cap, and protection and healing into the shirt, pants and coat. She had rebraided her hair, loose from being washed by Madame Croter, and she didn’t need Melodie to tell her the spark was back this time. She could feel it for herself.

The braiding actually felt a little stronger than the embroidery.

She would need more time to build up the kind of protections she’d had before, the layer upon layer that she had perfected with her cloaks, but she knew what to focus on, what was most important.

She’d also realized, as she’d bound off the last stitch and crept out of the tent, that she couldn’t simply walk away without making sure Sirna didn’t hurt her friends.

She would have to follow and keep watch.

Shadowing the caravan was a good idea on two fronts.

She could make sure those who’d helped her were safe, and she could see who might be waiting for her at the border.

General Ruwouldhave sent someone. The question was whether they had managed to get ahead of the caravan in time.

She hoped so. She desperately needed allies.

There was risk, though.

Her magic was not as strong as it had been. She could feel the difference in her workings. It was not something she would have noticed before she had been sucked dry, but she was well aware of it now.

She would need to keep renewing her work, bolstering it. And hope it didn’t fail at the wrong moment.

She also didn’t know who might be waiting at the border for Sirna in anticipation of him handing her over.

If it was the spell caster who’d created the rope and the Focus, she had a problem, because he or she was strong.

Most likely, given her current weakness, stronger than her.

And possibly capable of seeing through any working she might have created.

She would have to walk a fine line between keeping her distance from those who meant her harm and getting close enough to see who might be her friend. With the Grimwalt border closed to everyone who wasn’t Grimwaldian, the Rising Wave soldiers would not be allowed entrance. If they had decided to wait and see who came through, she might get lucky.

Gregor hopped down from his cart and looked back down the road, almost as if searching for a sign of her, ignoring the growing argument behind him.

She hoped he had managed to burn the tiny dress she guessed the Speaker had had someone take from her grandmother’s house. Something about it, though, about the feel of it in her hands, nagged at a memory in the back of her mind.

Something important.

Whatever it was, was just out of reach.

She did wonder, though, that if the Speaker had access to a spell caster with enough magic to create the rope, the net that had caught her, the Focus, and the necklace that changed someone’s very appearance, why he needed her at all.

She was no more talented than whoever was helping to find her and bring her in as a prisoner.

“I thought Avasu was sitting with you.” Sirna was not taking the discovery that no one had seen Ava all morning well, and he was pointing an accusing finger at Madame Croter, who’s cart had been two ahead of his own all morning. “I heard you call out that you had her.”

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