Page 13 of The Thief and the Traitor Bride

But the spell was shattered. Nore turned, brushing the filth from her dress. It didn’t matter. The silk was ruined. She’d have to burn it—a pity, because it had been one of her favorites.

She said nothing else. Nore left him there and locked him back in his cell. She recovered her cloak, sheathed her knife, and set out for the street.

Her thoughts were a swirling maelstrom as she walked three streets and called a carriage, but she kept returning to one fact: even after all these years, as she had tried to banish him from her thoughts as effectively as she’d banished him from her life, he still would risk death coming here again—and she didn’t think it was a coincidence that he had been caught on her ship.

And for some reason that Nore couldn’t begin to fathom, Celestine wanted him. She’d chosen him.

The carriage pulled up in front of the duchess’s town house on the outskirts of the city. Celestine usually retreated to her estate in Arlowe, but Nore suspected she wanted to see Caspian caught, and her hunch was rewarded: the windows were golden with light, mirth spilling through the glass. Nore knocked once and was greeted by a harried-looking maid who regarded her with some confusion.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, we don’t—”

“I’m here to see her grace,” Nore said. “Please tell her Ms. Gordon has requested a moment of her time.”

The maid’s expression cleared slightly. “Of course. I’ll show you to the study.”

Nore followed her through a drawing room, into the darkened wood-paneled study. There was a great rack behind Celestine’s desk, displaying a collection of fine vintages and imports, gifts from Nore over the years as a show of favor. Previously, Nore thought the display was a kindness. Now, the bottles taunted her.

Nore paced in front of them, stopping every so often to run her fingers over the metal capsules that protected the necks. She waited for a quarter of an hour, finally discarding her cape when the heat from the fireplace became too much. She was unashamed of the dirty silk of her gown. Celestine might’ve kept herself clean, but Nore did not have that privilege.

Finally, the door opened, and the duchess slipped inside. She wore a pale-blue gown, cut low across her shoulders and chest, and a thick band of diamonds around her neck that probably cost more than Nore’s yearly shipments. Celestine’s smile dropped from her face the second she shut the door behind her.

“Elinore,” she scolded. “This is not appropriate.”

“What did you offer him?” Nore asked, unable to contain her rage. She felt the blood pumping, the flush creeping over her chest and neck. She usually managed to keep composed, but all she could think of was the smug smile on Caspian’s face.

Celestine nodded to one of the chairs in front of her desk. “Sit down.”

Nore wanted to do something drastic, like smash one of those hundreds of bottles—but she realized, all in a rush, that coming, uninvited, on a day when Celestine was hosting people who were far above Nore’s social status was something drastic in itself.

She sat down.

Celestine took the seat across from her and regarded Nore for a moment. Gone was the trust from the last time they had spoken; gone were the pleasantries. “You are unhappy,” Celestine said finally.

Nore bit her tongue to keep herself from saying something rash. Finally, she settled on, “You have imprisoned Mr. Khari.”

“For robbing you.”

“So you will see him executed then?”

A silence. Celestine allowed a tiny smile, as if acknowledging that Nore had caught her in a trap—and Nore found herself again infuriated. “You have no right to question me,” Celestine reminded her. “But if you must know, I spoke to Mr. Khari, and we have come to an agreement.”

Nore pressed her lips together.

“And truthfully, you have no right to be here now—really, what are you thinking?”

There was an uncomfortable feeling in Nore’s stomach. It was aligned with the reason she still kept in touch with Tern, aligned with why she didn’t push Kota further and further away even as her clerk tried to know more of her.

She knew the duchess was affectionate toward her, that Nore was one of her chosen and favored. And yet, Nore was still her pawn. At the end of the day, Nore’s feelings did not rank above the duchess’s machinations.

At least Celestine did not pretend on that count.

Nore folded her hands on her lap and forced herself to stillness. She kept her eyes on one of the smudges on her gown, a reddish streak on her waist that was suspiciously similar to the shape of Caspian’s left hand. Even after all these years, she couldn’t keep away the traces of him.

“I was thinking,” Nore said, fighting to keep her tone even, “that it is foolish, hiring Caspian for anything. And I came here because I thought that was something you and I agreed on.”

Here, the duchess paused. Nore glanced up to see her face, to watch the calculations there. “He is valuable.”

“I am not contesting that fact,” Nore said, even though that admission was painful.