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Ava moved away from it, looking for its long strap in the hay, and then she walked toward the fire, using the strap to drag it behind her.

When she looked back, she could see the end of the rope had come out of the bag, and she reluctantly lifted the strap up and held the bag out to her side.

She stepped between two logs that made up the seating around the fire, and then gave a start at the sight of an old man on the ground, leaning back against one of them.

She watched him for a long beat, heart hammering, but though his eyes weren’t completely closed, his breathing was even and steady.

She moved to the fire.

It was low but still going.

Ava carefully pinched the cloth flap of the bag with her fingers and lifted it up. The end of the rope was still hanging out of the bag, and she thought it looked like more had come out since she’d first noticed it.

She gripped one bottom corner and tipped the bag over the fire.

The end of the rope swung up and brushed her wrist, but she jerked it away, avoiding the curling snare it threw out and then, as the first coil hit the flames, it contracted, as if in pain.

One end fell out of the fire pit, and Ava found a stick and flicked it back in.

The flames went green, and she thought she could hear a high-pitched hiss until the fire had consumed it all.

Her legs gave way, and she fell down.

She couldn’t remember when last she’d drunk or eaten anything, and she wasn’t sure if the sudden wave of dizziness was from the destruction of the rope, or her body’s lack of sustenance.

She rolled away from the fire and forced herself onto her knees.

The relief at the rope’s destruction welled up in her.

She would never have to face that again. She felt light as air.

When she got back to Fernwell, she would take the one General Ru had kept and she would burn it, too.

It should not exist.

Even if she couldn’t fool Sirna with another rope, even if he realized she’d destroyed it, he could do nothing about it. The rope was gone.

And now she had a chance to rebuild her strength.

She thought for a moment of running right now. But she was breathing hard just from the short walk from her hay pile to the fire. She had no shoes to protect her from the rough road, no warm clothes, and no energy. There was also the Focus Sirna andHimselfhad spoken about. The magical lodestone that would find her no matter where she ran.

So, there would be no escaping for a few days at least. She was so far from normal, from the person she had been, she despaired.

In that moment, she wanted Luc so badly. The feel of his arms for comfort, the touch of his lips on her temple as he held her.

She blinked back tears.

Enough of this nonsense.

The rope had stolen more than her energy, it felt like.

It seemed as if it had stolen part of herself.

She hoped that was just her imagination, but the thought of it made her sick with fear.

Sap leaking from one of the logs in the fire exploded with a pop and the old man jerked, blinked at her, and then settled down again.

She stood stock-still, waiting for her heart to stop galloping, and brushed her tears away.