Home > Popular Books > The Fragile Threads of Power (Threads of Power, #1)(177)

The Fragile Threads of Power (Threads of Power, #1)(177)

Author:V. E. Schwab

A few dripped to the table before she scrubbed them away.

Ned pretended not to notice. She was grateful for that. He nudged a small plate toward her. On it, a stack of pale disks, little bigger than coins.

“Biscuits,” he explained.

Tes considered them. They looked like kashen, a spiced cookie she’d eaten as a child. She took one, and sniffed it, but couldn’t detect any spice. She bit down, or tried, but it was hard, and bland, and resisted in her teeth, and she was wondering how—and why—a person would eat it when Ned took one and dunked it in his tea.

Skeptically, she followed his lead, placing the moistened biscuit in her mouth. This time, it was warm, and soft, and sugary. Not kashen by any stretch, but nice.

Vares clicked his beak, and Ned stared at the owl with a kind of childlike wonder.

“Amazing,” he murmured, and Tes felt herself preen a little—it was an elegant bit of magic. She finished her cup, and he poured her another, this one even stronger for how long it had steeped.

“Did you and Kell have tea often?” she asked.

Ned started to laugh, and choked on half a biscuit. “No. His visits have always been strictly business. He’s never even taken off his coat.”

“I’ve heard it’s magic,” she said. “That coat.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” he said. “Isn’t everything magic where you come from?”

Tes started to shake her head, then stopped. Not everything was spelled, of course, but there was magic in it. That’s where the threads came from.

“You have magic,” she said, glancing at the tendril in the air around him. “You shouldn’t. But you do.”

It was like she’d lit a lamp inside Ned’s face. “You can tell? I mean, I know it’s not much, but I’ve been practicing, every day, and I feel like I’m getting better…”

There he went again, talking too fast in High Royal, his hands moving in his enthusiasm. In fact, this man never seemed to stop moving. He reminded Tes of Vares. All those little twitches and shifts. She waited until he lost enough steam that she could catch the words—something about candles and element kits—and then her gaze drifted back to the locked wooden door on the other side of the room.

“There’s magic in there, too.”

Ned’s brow furrowed. The joy dropped out of his face. “Oh.”

“What’s behind the door?”

“Nothing,” he said, swift as a window slamming shut. The kind of lie that made it clear she wouldn’t get the truth.

Tes wanted to tell him that whatever it was, it wasn’t safe.

But there was a look on Ned’s face that said he already knew. He knew it was bad. He knew it was wrong. He knew, and here it was, and here he was with it. So she simply said, “Be careful.”

And then she finished her cup of tea, and stood, wincing as the stitches pulled.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

It was a good question. She didn’t have a good answer. But she couldn’t stay here. She went to the counter, and gingerly pulled on her coat, shoved her feet into her boots, tucked the doormaker under her arm, and slipped all of the coins save one into her pocket. She put the last on Ned’s table. As payment, for the help, and the tunic, and the tea.

He did a strange thing then. He took up the coin and brought it to his nose, murmuring what sounded like flowers.

“You’re very odd,” she said.

He smiled. “So I’ve been told. If you see Kell or Lila, tell them Ned Tuttle says hello.”

Tes laughed a little at that, even though it hurt. She couldn’t imagine running into the two Antari, but he seemed hopeful, so she said, “I will.”

Ned stood, following her to the door. “You can come back, you know. Anytime,” he said, throwing the latch. “You don’t have to be bleeding to death. I mean, obviously, if you are hurt, do come, but if you just want to swing by for a tea and a chat, that’s fine, too.”

The door swung open, revealing a pale grey morning.

“Oh,” he said, “I never got your name.”

And perhaps it was because of all he’d done to save her life, or perhaps it was because she never thought she’d see him again—perhaps it was just her tired mind giving way—but she found herself telling him the truth.

“It’s Tesali Ranek,” she said, adding, “but friends call me Tes.” Even though the truth was only Nero called her that.

Ned smiled. “Well, Tes. You know where to find me.”