Page 138 of The Thief and the Traitor Bride

The Viper nodded once more and departed without another word. Nore watched his back, stunned, as he started back up the road.

Then, she whirled on Caspian. “You betrayed us.”

“Don’t, Finch,” he said, weary. “I think we have less time than I’m comfortable with to get out of here alive before anyone changes their mind.”

“And you would just leave the others—”

Caspian turned on her. “I traded your life for Gail’s,” he said sharply. “That was our agreement, if you must know—and even though you were implicated, he was clearly working against the High Lady.” He ran a hand through his hair, disturbing the wind-swept curls.

“None of this makes sense,” she said, her stomach sinking. She did not feel any remorse for the fact Gail had been caught, which was probably something she would need to reflect on quite a lot later. “You told Locke what we were doing—”

“Nore,” Caspian said, exhaustion coloring his tone. “Did you learn nothing from my letters?”

She was too tired of the lies between them, of the betrayals. “I didn’t get your fucking letters, Cas,” she snapped.

He blinked at her. “But you said… you said you did. You said you burned them. You read them.”

“I didn’t get them all,” Nore confessed. She rubbed her hands over her face. “Celestine only gave them to me before the mission.”

“How many?” Caspian asked, his voice hard as iron.

“Six,” Nore said. “And they were all full of the kind of bullshit—”

“Don’t,” he said, and there was now an edge of panic to his voice. Caspian brought a hand to his chest, rubbing the space over his heart as if she’d dealt him a physical blow. “I can handle just about anything else, Finch. But don’t pretend on this.”

“Caspian,” Nore said, trying to keep her voice level. “I’m telling the truth.”

He glanced behind her, his jaw ticking, and then turned back to the ship. Caspian wound his arm through Nore’s and urged her forward; they had to keep moving, had to get to the ship and off the Isle.

“Finch,” he said finally, when they were nearly at the shadow of the ship. “I wrote to you at least once a month for the last five years. No matter where I was or what I was doing, I wrote to you.”

It was Nore’s turn to stop, turn to him, caught in shock. “What?”

He looked straight ahead, like he couldn’t bear to see her face. “I hated you at first,” he said quietly, and he didn’t sound cocky or flippant, like the version of himself he used to tease her. He sounded earnest and sincere—he sounded, Nore thought darkly, like the boy she fell in love with.

“How long was that?” she asked, the words barely making a sound.

Caspian sighed. “Oh, about two years, probably,” he said. His hand tightened on hers as he looked up, up, up, taking in the ramp that led to the ship. He made no move to quicken their pace as they drew closer. There was a figure at the top of the ramp, waiting for them. Caspian pushed her in front of him.

“I didn’t…” She stopped, thinking about the words. Nore swallowed. “I didn’t get any of them.”

Cas nodded. Perhaps this was a foregone conclusion. Nore thought the confession was over until Caspian said, “What did you think she was paying me, for this mission?”

Nore glanced over her shoulder at him. He wouldn’t meet her eye. “I…” She couldn’t think of a sum, anything at all that would make working for Celestine worth his while. “Probably to excuse your past treason,” Nore posited. “I imagine it wasn’t easy, being permanently banished from Lindan.”

Caspian laughed, the sound harsh. “I don’t care one bit for Lindan or banishment from it. Can’t you see? There is only one thing I would even speak to Celestine for.”

Nore shook her head, still incapable of reason.

“You, Finch,” he said roughly. “If I succeeded, she guaranteed me your freedom. It was a deal I never should’ve agreed to—and yet, Celestine knew it was the only thing I couldn’t turn down.”

Nore blinked at him. “You can’t be serious,” she said, the bile rising in her stomach. “Cas, what do you think I’m doing? You think I’m her prisoner? I have an entire life.”

“Is that really what you call a life?”

Nore froze, the words echoing in her skull. Because she had thought it herself, hadn’t she? What was the value of happiness? Usefulness was better. Usefulness made sense.

You’re going to die alone one day. And gods, sometimes I think you want it that way.