Page 141 of The Thief and the Traitor Bride

“He was recruited about seventeen, maybe eighteen years ago,” Tern said. “A few years after I joined the crown’s service.”

That was before they met. Before he kissed her, he had known Celestine. Before she took him into her heart, he had been working as a spy. Before they married, he had already had a secret second life that she knew nothing about.

Caspian had been only thirteen, maybe fourteen. He was a child.

“I’m sorry,” Tern said, so quietly. “I thought you knew.”

Nore swallowed hard, nodding. She forced herself to drag her shirt on over her head.

“When the duchess cut Starling loose… I had no idea what he was to you, until he had already been removed from service. Then, when I found out, I thought it was because he had hurt you somehow. Or you had found something on him that impacted his service.”

“I’m not questioning you, Tern,” Nore said, dragging on the trousers. “And what did he do for her highness?”

Tern’s face flickered, a door closing. He would not tell her. “I’m sorry,” he said again.

Nore sighed. She came around the screen, dumping her filthy clothes in a pile. She sat at the table across from Tern and set to undoing her braid. Her fingers were still cold and clumsy.

“Who knows?” She would hate to find, yet again, that she had been played for a fool. If Edith knew of Caspian the whole time; if she knew of their marriage.

Tern shook his head. “Not many,” he said. “Possibly just me. The duchess, of course. But he worked alone, when he did work—he was not often sent to travel. I only knew of him because he would sometimes deliver me cargo before I sailed.”

Cargo. In their line of work, it sometimes meant information, or physical objects. Artifacts.

“Can I speak to him?” Nore asked.

Tern sighed. “No,” he said.

“Tern—”

“I have orders.” His voice was hard, unshakable. “He’s dangerous. Manipulative. And…” Tern looked away. “Finch. Nore. He is going to be put to death for what he has done—both before and after; both for betraying the duchess all those years ago, and for stealing from you, and for nearly getting you killed by Locke. The duchess has given me orders, yes, but I refuse to let him drag you down with him.” Tern turned to Nore, grasping one of her hands. His grip was firm. “It is just a mission. He is just a mark. But you are irreplaceable.”

Nore looked at him for one more moment. Nodded. She turned her palm to meet Tern’s and gripped his hand tight. He studied her face for an immeasurable moment.

“I have work to do,” he said finally. “You have all the liberty you would on any voyage, but I ask you—for your sake and my sanity—do not try to speak to the prisoner.”

“Of course,” Nore murmured.

“Do you have any further reports from Idistra?”

Nore swallowed hard, going back to her trunk. Caspian must’ve packed it for her, as everything was folded and organized the way she liked. She easily found her leather folder and handed over her encoded notes, along with Gail’s final wax-sealed letter—she’d never found time to put it in proper code.

“Thank you,” Tern said when she handed them over. Nore didn’t answer.

Tern left her, as promised. Nore sat at the table for a long time, staring into nothing, her hands folded in front of her.

He’d been Celestine’s for years—but did that erase the years that Nore was Celestine’s, the years that she kept the truth hidden?

If they were both full of lies, if their entire marriage was a sham—then what? No matter how many times he promised her it had been real, what if that was a lie too? Where did that leave her?

The conclusion Nore came to was that, after all these years, she still knew nothing about Caspian Khari.

Tern returned to sleep a few hours later. Nore had eaten a simple meal delivered by one of his sailors and spent the rest of the evening pacing and reflecting. She’d also snooped, going through Tern’s drawers in search of any word from Celestine, or any logs or journals, but Tern knew her better than that. The cabin was suspiciously clean; either he’d left his correspondence behind in Nettlepool, or it was stashed in another (presumably locked) drawer or cabin.

He had done it because, if the roles were reversed, Nore knew Tern would’ve snooped, too.

She was already in her bed when he came in. He entered quietly, forgoing a light as he moved around the room. Nore kept her eyes closed, her breathing even. She heard him as he undressed and changed into his trousers for sleep, then heard the shift of the mattress above her as he slipped into bed. He did not speak to her, so he thought she was sleeping, or he did not care to call her on her ruse.

She’d slept in Tern’s cabin on enough voyages—if his crew thought there was something happening between the two of them, he had not corrected them; and it benefited them to have the cover of an affair if anyone asked too many questions. So Nore knew the pattern of Tern’s sleep, the quiet relaxation of his breathing, and how easily he stirred when he was sleeping.