Page 22 of The Threadbare Queen

“I’m no expert.” And that was the truth, amusingly enough. She was learning as she went. “But yes, I think so.”

There was a wooden box on the side table, filled with parchment and pens, and she emptied it out and used a poker from the fireplace to scoop the fork into it and close the lid.

“Do you feel compelled to do anything,” she asked Eckhart as she set the box on the table.

“To you, you mean?” He looked a little sick. “No.”

“This isn’t your fault, Eckhart. It’s the fault of the spell caster, and maybe even Rafe for making a little too light of the assignment.”

“What about Frederick and Talura? Might they be enspelled?” He worried his lip. “They’re the ones who told me which tavern to go to.”

She hadn’t thought of that, and she should have.

“I’ll check.” This was something she would need to do in her cloak, with all the protections at her disposal, as well as enough thread and strips of fabric to work a counter spell, if she could.

She let Eckhart go, telling him to steer clear of Frederik until she’d seen him. To go get some rest. He looked haunted when he left her, and she was sorry for it.

He was a victim in this.

She scooped up the box and went looking for the general, who she discovered was out at the Rising Wave camp, talking to her lieutenants about the Jatan encroachment.

But checking on Frederik and Talura couldn’t wait.

She didn’t know if they had been enspelled or not, but they could be a danger to those around them, and none of it was their fault.

Ava couldn’t help but think it was hers.

She would have to go find the general. Not only would she want to know what had happened with Eckhart, but it would be foolish for Ava to check on Frederik and Talura without letting someone know what she was going to do.

Just in case.

And the general, Oscar and Deni were the only ones she could tell, other than Luc.

She took the box upstairs, made sure the guards understood no one was to open it or even touch it, and put it away in a drawer.

When she was back in her trousers and shirt, she slipped out of the palace in her cloak, nothing but a shadow among the many thrown by the torches and lanterns in the streets.

It wasn’t that late yet, people were still about, but the night was winding down.

It soothed some of the buzzing beneath her skin to be walking in the cool air.

For a long time she had been locked away, and just the fact that she could step out and go where she wanted, unchallenged, was a gift.

Up ahead, from a narrow side alley, someone cried out, a sound of pain and surprise.

Ava slowed her steps, coming level to the entrance and looking down the narrow space, but it was too dark to see anything.

The cry came again, low to the ground, as if the person was lying in the street.

Ava stepped into the alley and moved carefully forward, one hand to the wall, trying to see what lay ahead.

Something soft dropped down on her from above, and she went still, reaching up a hand to feel what it was.

Her fingers encountered rough hessian, and she pulled at the net she realised had been thrown over her, scrabbling hard and fast to get it off her.

The workings in her cloak flared to life, and then she found herself frozen in place.

This had happened once before, when someone had thrown fire at her and her cloak had burned.

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