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Her gaze landed on Ava, and she recoiled slightly, her eyes going wide.

She must look really bad, Ava guessed.

That was good.

The worse she looked, the less inclined Sirna was to suspect the rope was a fake.

And though she was exhausted after getting no sleep, she had the sense that she was more present in the world than she had been yesterday.

Not strong, buthere.

It was something.

Better by far than the listless, uncaring state she’d been in before.

Her mind went back to her pitiful attempts at working magic into the braided rope around her waist by the fire, and she closed her eyes, shutting out the thought.

She had to believe she would recover in time.

She just needed to give herself some breathing room.

With people like Madame Croter, or whoever this woman was, keeping an eye on her, she might manage to do just that.

Her stomach growled, the sound clear as Sirna and Evelyn locked gazes with each other.

“I haven’t eaten for a full day,” Ava said, quietly. “And I don’t think I can stand anymore.” Her head had started spinning and her legs felt weak, and she let herself collapse.

Sirna caught her roughly at the shoulders, careful not to touch her waist. He gripped her too tight, his fingers digging into her upper arms in a way that would bruise.

He lowered her to the ground.

“Blanket,” he snapped at Evelyn.

She glared at him and turned back into the cart.

They were both obviously feeling the effects of their drinking last night. It didn’t help her for them to be snappy and bad-tempered; she would only get the brunt of it. She stayed where she was, compliant and unmoving, and Sirna settled the scratchy wool blanket over her shoulders.

“She needs food,” he said.

“So make her some.” Evelyn jumped down from the cart and stalked off, heading to the river.

Sirna took a deep breath in, and then hauled Ava up by one arm.

“You might want to be careful, there.” A big, bearded man stepped out from between the carts, with Melodie by his side. “We might think you’re mistreating your companion.”

Sirna tried to soften his grimace. “Tempers are a little short this morning, is all.” He pushed Ava down onto the step at the back of the cart, and then moved past her carefully to go inside.

Ava lifted her feet and tucked the blanket under them, curling over her knees.

Melodie skipped up to her.

Ava gave the tiniest shake of her head and hoped the child understood she wanted to pretend they had never met.

“I’m Melodie, what’s your name?” the little girl asked.

“Avasu,” Ava said, voice hoarse. “Is that your father?”

“My da’s name is Gregor. He’s a blacksmith.” Melodie skipped back. “Do you want to come and play?”