Page 162 of The Thief and the Traitor Bride

Nore took a deep breath. Her chest still ached from the ship. “There have been a dozen assassination attempts, at least, for every year you’ve held the Isle—and some were close enough to leave scars. Everyone close to you is at risk of harm. Your family laid down their lives to save you, and now the rest of Idistra battles to keep you alive or harm you, to save your Isle. Your power is fickle and inconsistent, sometimes forceful and strong on the mainland, and sometimes weak beyond measure. And now, the only hope you have of keeping your allies or making peace with your enemies is a political marriage, only it’s impossible to tell who cares for you and who is only luring you closer for an assassination attempt.”

“You bore me with my own history,” Locke said. But Nore saw the way her grip tightened on her sword; she felt it flinch against her throat. One move—which Nore had no doubt Locke would do, in a heartbeat—and she would be ended.

“But you need both an heir and an alliance with the mainland. That is the nature of the Isle. And you suspect there may be a good match for a political marriage—some of the suitors have been considerate to you, and even kind. You think you will find someone who will keep your secrets—or at the very least, keep up appearances of a sham marriage. Because none of it really matters; by ritual alone or otherwise, you are committed to the Vi—to Commander Seward.”

Locke went perfectly still.

“The power is only ever consistent on Scaela,” Nore said quietly. She did not dare reveal her other suspicions to the High Lady, not in front of an audience. “Your power is sound here and in Scaela because it is rooted to both you and the commander, and shared. No one yet knows that you have already permanently granted favor to Scaela, but it will not remain secret forever.”

She knew immediately she had gone too far. She registered the shift in Locke’s muscles, the way the blade twitched, the light of anger that came into her eyes as she drew back, and Nore squeezed her eyes shut—

“Stop.”

Nore opened her eyes. The Viper had a hold of the High Lady’s elbow, holding her still.

“Commander Seward—” the High Lady started.

“Stay your hand, Gremaryse. This is not your decision alone.”

Locke dropped her arm. The sword scraped along the floor. She tilted her chin back, as if she was studying the ceiling. It took Nore that long to realize that the Viper had referred to her by name. “You are unmaking my decisions, Kiernan,” she said, every syllable exact.

“Ooh,” someone said behind them—one of the others permitted to stay. “A full-name fight.”

The commander ignored this. He raised a hand to Locke’s chin, bringing her gaze so it wasn’t on the ceiling but still high, on his own face. “I would plead her case if you would only consult with me. It’s why you’re trying to act now.”

Locke’s eyes flickered shut, but to Nore’s surprise, she leaned into the Viper’s touch. “I will not endanger you,” she said. “Not even with the truth.”

“Please continue, Nore,” the Viper said, not looking away from Locke’s face.

Nore flinched. She didn’t like having his attention.

“You are unwilling to… openly speak of your relationship,” Nore said. “After all, you have already lost so much. But there is no purpose to a political marriage—and you know it already. A marriage in name only will not balance power elsewhere. Whatever ritual ties Locke to the mainland has already been done.”

The High Lady’s eyes did not open. “We need not speak of the details,” she said.

“But the United Council of Idistra is tired of waiting, Your Majesty, and they’re done with your stalling. I know they presented suitors to you without your agreement, but it’s worse than that. Those who have no consistent power to rely on are done trying to ally with you. There are machinations in play from Nestria, and probably beyond, for means that will remove you once the line of succession is secure. And you are correct that they fear you, but they also fear what happens if you die without an heir. You can wield your Viper and your power both, but you cannot survive if everyone else is against you.”

The High Lady’s eyes flashed. “Am I not fearful enough on my own?” Far off, Nore heard the distant rumble of thunder, and she couldn’t completely divorce the sound from Locke’s power.

“You are,” Nore said, “But still, they think they can lure you into a union. And what they need is an heir—once that child is born, you are disposable anyway.”

Locke’s chin tilted ever so slightly.

“You are trying to protect everyone,” Nore said, softening her tone. She did not think her life would end in the next thirty seconds, which was an improvement. “But in doing so, you have made yourself look indecisive, stubborn, and vulnerable. On the continent, they call you the tyrant queen.”

“I am no queen,” Locke snapped.

“Even so,” Nore said. “There are alliances that no longer need you. They will do whatever they need to to seize control and stabilize power, even if it means killing more people you love.”

Locke was silent for a long moment. The Viper withdrew, moving behind her, his hand slipping to her shoulder.

“You have no proof,” Locke said.

“I do,” Nore said.

Caspian came forward slowly, probably watching Locke—or her sword. He was a mage, so he was also vulnerable to the Viper’s magic. Caspian handed her Nore’s notes, the transcriptions of Gail’s messages, other reports Nore had found in Celestine’s office and compiled.

“And how can we be certain these aren’t forgeries?” the Viper asked, reading over the High Lady’s shoulder as she flipped through the pages.