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“Only if he thinks someone knows,” Ava whispered, and with a grim nod, Madame Croter settled back in her seat.

Ava put the brush aside, now that Melodie’s hair was glossy and tangle free.

She had become adept at braiding since the Rising Wave had taken Fernwell. She had sought out as many people in the camp as she could to learn their braiding techniques, and had created the rope of silence for her discussions with General Ru and Luc using what she’d learned. She had woven her horse hair rope the other night simply, but there were plenty of intricate patterns she’d learned which she was eager to try.

She hadn’t thought to use them for braiding hair, though. Hers or someone else’s.

She’d been focused on rope.

She ran a hand through her own tousled hair.

It was down to her shoulders now, no longer as short as her cousin had insisted it be kept, to stop her using her own hair as a substitute for thread.

She started to braid Melodie’s hair, but her fingers were slow and clumsy and she had to adjust her idea of what she could do and choose something simple. As she plaited, she tried to think of protection for the child. Protection from knives. From cruel hands. From any form of damage.

She didn’t feel the same spark she usually did when she worked her spell craft.

The fear of having lost her magic was a sick sensation in the pit of her stomach, but she took comfort in Melodie’s proclamation that the rope she’d made from the horse hair was helping restore her energy.

She had clutched it as she slept, closing her hand over it in a fist, and hoped it gave her back something, even if just a little measure of what had been stripped from her.

If that poor piece of work had any spark, then hope was not lost.

Melodie’s hair fell halfway down her back, and the simple braids Ava wove were long enough to fall below her shoulders.

Suddenly struck with an idea, Ava took a few of Blackie’s feathers, which had stuck to her tunic when the hen had flapped her wings earlier, and wove them into the bottom of the braids.

Melodie touched them with delight. “Thank you. They look beautiful.”

Ava knew the little girl was being generous with her praise. The braids were at least straight and even but nothing special. Still, she seemed to be pleased.

And if even a tiny spark of the protection she’d tried to work into the braids was there, it would be better than nothing.

She looked down at her hands. Her fingers didn’t look right, but they were at least solid now. She could use them.

She wanted to ask for needle and thread from Madame Croter, but she had the feeling nothing she worked now would be of any use. It would be better to ask when she was a little stronger.

Again, the fear that even then, her workings would be barely useful darkened her thoughts, but she had to try.

Even if trying was all she could do.

Sirna had searched her last night before he’d carefully wound the rope around her.

She didn’t know what he was looking for, what his mysterious master had told him, but neither of them seemed to know why the Speaker wanted her, so perhaps he was simply under orders that she should have nothing on her at all.

If she could work invisibility into her clothing just before she ran, that could mean the difference to her escape.

She reasoned travelers would all need to mend their clothes. Everyone should have a needle and thread available.

Any request she made for one before she needed it would expose her to discovery, though, so she would wait until the time was right.

And before then, she first had to find the mysterious Focus the man on the horse,Himself, had mentioned, and destroy it.

Because even if she could work invisibility into her too-big shirt and too-short trousers, Sirna would still be able to use it to find her, as he’d done before in Fernwell.

She needed to find a way to be inside the cart alone, with enough time to search it.

Evelyn represented a big roadblock to that.