Page 14 of The Thief and the Traitor Bride

Celestine’s head cocked to the left, a slight angle. Nore recognized it: it meant she was thinking very hard about how to phrase something.

“There is an artifact in Idistra, Elinore. A medallion. I first heard of it years ago, during the war, but it was thought to be lost. Now, though…” She frowned, looking at the fire. “Now, it looks like there may be a chance to recover it. But I cannot do that without an Idistran amalgamate. I have waited years for an opportunity like this to arise.”

So Caspian was an opportunity now. Nore did not like where this was going. She clasped her hands in her lap, forcing herself to stillness, forcing her tells silent. “And?”

“I need an amalgamate to carry out this mission. Mr. Khari understands that his life is forfeit if he does not do this for me.”

“You can’t believe he will actually see it through. There is no way he has agreed to this, no matter what negotiations you entered into.”

“He has accepted the job. I have something Mr. Khari wants, and there is only one way to get it—and if he wants it badly enough, he has to fulfil his promises.”

Nore laughed, the sound escaping her in a hysterical gasp. “You can’t be serious. He’ll find some way to turn it around on you. No matter what you have, you can’t trust him.”

“I know,” Celestine said, catching Nore’s gaze. Holding it. “But I trust you.”

Nore couldn’t breathe; her ears were ringing. She opened her mouth and closed it again, her middle finger rubbing madly over the knuckle of her index. “You want me…?”

“I can’t send him alone,” Celestine allowed. “But I have been in contact with a spy in the Idistran network. Our Nestrian allies have been requesting help in a challenge they are facing for which they need someone who has no connection—or vulnerability—within their own system of magic. I had no reason to interfere before, as it did not seem prudent. But they have agreed to accompany you and Caspian north and assist on the search for the medallion, if I agree to loan them one of my finest spies for their use.”

“You can’t be serious,” Nore snapped—in another scenario, she might’ve been charmed by Celestine referring to her as one of her finest, but she did not allow the flattery to take root this time.

Celestine’s gaze softened. “I have no one else who can recover the artifact and transfer it to this system. And besides, your connection works in our favor here. Mr. Khari is Idistran, and of the noble class, no less. The nations are still so recently recovered from war, the borders so recently opened—they are careful about who comes and goes. But he has citizenship, so he will not be questioned on entry. And as his legal wife”—Celestine did not pause, even when Nore flinched—“neither will you.”

Nore couldn’t imagine Caspian wanting anything enough to work with Celestine, let alone cooperate with her—but if Celestine wasn’t sharing exactly what the bargain was, Nore could not just demand that information.

“What if I will not go?” Nore asked, so quietly, so impulsively that she did not even believe herself to have spoken the words.

Celestine’s expression changed like a door slamming shut. “You are in no position to bargain.”

And Nore knew it. All her success, she owed to the duchess. Her protection was of Celestine’s making. She could leave the duchess’s employ, maybe, but it would only be a matter of time before her storehouses were ransacked and her ships were burning in the harbor. Even now, she could see the flicker of future flames in the duchess’s cold gaze.

“He could kill me,” Nore said, switching tactics. Anything to keep her off a multi-week mission with Caspian Khari, the worst person she could imagine working with. “He is strong enough to overpower me. He has command of magic I do not. Perhaps he will find it easier to just eliminate me.” Perhaps, Nore thought, Caspian can’t let go of the past, either.

“He won’t. His freedom depends on your safekeeping.”

Nore chewed on her lip. There was no way out—not if she wanted to keep her job, her position, her life.

She couldn’t believe she was actually considering this—she couldn’t believe she didn’t have a choice.

“And if I see it through?”

The duchess smiled, just as coldly as she had been glaring only seconds before. She got up from her chair and circled around her desk, lowering herself to her knees in front of Nore. Her fingers went to Nore’s chin, drawing her face down and close, so close Nore could see the blood vessels in Celestine’s sclera. When she was younger, earlier in this job, she used to search Celestine’s face, looking for any traces of similarities between them. Sometimes, she found herself studying Celestine and wondering: Which of those features would Nore’s face inherit in ten years? Fifteen? When would it become more than a passing resemblance, more firmly rooted, an undeniable fact? “You will live to see another day, and you will continue to find contentment. I keep you safe, Finch. Don’t I?”

She did. Nore lived under the cloak of the duchess’s protection. It’s what let her sleep at night, what kept her business thriving, what kept Nore alive on the streets of Nettlepool, but it was not tenderness—and it was never given as such. Nore ached to lean into the duchess’s touch, to let her embrace her like she was a girl; it was a feeling she rarely allowed herself to acknowledge. It had been so long, Nore felt with a deepening ache, since someone had taken care of her.

Her eyes flickered shut as she fought against years of memories. One of her hands came up, framing the duchess’s, and she felt the bones of Celestine’s wrist in her grasp. “Kill him,” Nore begged. “Kill him, and spare me the torment.”

Celestine’s thumb swept across the arc of Nore’s cheekbone. It was only then that Nore realized there were tears spilling over her own cheeks. She was awash with hot shame and embarrassment that she could be reduced like this, in front of her employer; that no matter what, Caspian still had some terrible power over her.

“I cannot kill an Idistran lordling, Elinore. It will draw too much suspicion. I doubt I can even imprison him for very long, with things as they are.”

She knew the truth. That did not make it easier to bear. “Please.”

“If you succeed,” Celestine said, her voice sweet and soft, “then you can do what you wish with him. Kill him, if that’s what brings you peace. Only speak the word, and I will ask my dear royal cousin to banish him. This one thing is all I ask of you, Finch, and then Caspian Khari’s hold over you will be severed.”

It was that small turn of phrasing that made Nore’s senses return. It was agony that Celestine knew her weaknesses. She tensed—she couldn’t tell if the duchess felt it, but at the same time, of course she did. “He has no hold over me,” Nore said fiercely, willing it to be true. “I ripped that out at the root. He is an inconvenience and a danger, and it is foolish to let him live.”

Celestine sat back on her heels, that old pride returning to her face. “You’re quite right, Finch. But I need him, for now. All I ask of you is to prolong your suffering for a few weeks, and then we will be rid of him. When you return, his fate is in your hands. If you want his life, then so be it. It is yours.”