Page 43 of The Thief and the Traitor Bride

“You’re afraid of my magic,” he murmured against her skin, his lips grazing her ear lobe.

Nore shivered, pulling away. She wrapped her arms around herself, refusing to meet his gaze. She hated that he was able to read her so easily even when she still felt like she was constantly on the back foot with him.

She needed to get away, to get a clear head, to follow through on the plans she had made for this evening. She needed Caspian out of the way—for now.

“Actually, Gail,” Nore said. “Would you like some wine?”

“Should I join—” Caspian started.

“No, no,” Nore said, turning her smile on him. “It’s been such a long journey. Rest—we’ll be back soon.”

Caspian frowned, but he could not protest without raising Gail’s alarm—and whatever Celestine had promised him, it was clearly enough of a motivator for him to play along for the mission, too.

“I’d love wine,” Gail said, already going for his cloak. His gaze kept flicking between her and Caspian, like there was something about their dynamic he couldn’t parse. Nore looked at Caspian, too; she didn’t know why the duchess hadn’t told him the truth of their relationship, but she wasn’t going to give him any reason to doubt their sincerity, or their trustworthiness.

She supposed, if she were Gail, she wouldn’t want to work with a team as fractious as her and Caspian, either. The best solution was to ensure Gail didn’t know about their mutual hatred, no matter the cost.

Nore turned, taking Caspian’s hand. He still wore his leather gloves. She pulled it to her lips, feeling the cool, smooth leather over the rigid heat of his hand. It was payback, she thought, for the graze of his lips against her ear. His gaze on her was unwavering. “Go on,” she murmured. “I’ll be up soon.”

Before he could recover, Nore went for her boots. “It’s cold up north,” she said to Gail, filling the space with chatter so he didn’t look back.

Gail followed her out. They made their way toward the outbuilding where the crates were stored, both blowing warmth into their hands as they went. When they reached the other building, Nore turned to Gail.

“Your instructions,” she said. “I am here to do whatever it is you ask of me, on the order of the duchess. But my knowledge of the mission is sparse, and I’d like to get a better understanding of what is being asked of me.”

Gail raised an eyebrow. “You don’t wish to involve your husband in this discussion?”

Nore hesitated, reaching for her best lovesick expression. “Caspian thinks…” She looked back over her shoulder at the house, then stepped into the outbuilding. Gail followed, letting the door shut behind them. They were mostly in darkness, the building lit only by thin lines of moonlight through the slats in the wood.

“Caspian’s job is to get the artifact and nothing more,” Nore said, not meeting Gail’s eye. “My employer left it up to me to decide if I would involve him in the business with the tyrant queen of Locke. But I know her reputation, and if Locke or her court catch wind of what we are trying to do…” Nore smiled bitterly. Celestine had said they were outsourcing this mission partially due to fear—she hoped this angle worked to her advantage in keeping Caspian in the dark. “I would rather hang for it and leave him free.”

Gail’s expression softened. “Your love for him is admirable,” he said softly. “It is not an easy thing, in this trade, to find a companion.”

“No, it isn’t,” Nore agreed. “So, if you are willing, this is my proposal: we can speak generally in front of Caspian—I’m sure you’ll have other business in Luthar and Eprain as we travel north. But let us avoid speaking of Locke and our shared goal unless we are alone.”

“Very well,” Gail said. “And in return—I am involving one of my dear friends in the search for the artifact. They are trusted, but I would rather not involve them in the Lochan plot either, if that is possible.”

“Then it is agreed,” Nore said, holding out her hand. Gail shook.

“Right, then,” Nore said, turning back to the crates. “Dove said you would catch me up. Tell me what I need to know, and I’ll find something for us to drink.”

“Strong preference for white or green,” Gail said, leaning against one of the nearby stacks. “The crisper the better.”

“On it,” Nore said. She always had a few tools in her coat pocket; she pulled one and set to pulling out nails. “Our mission?”

“You know of the Isle of Locke, yes? And our allegiances here on Idistra? Has Caspian explained them?”

Caspian hadn’t been around to explain such things, but she couldn’t say that.

She battled with one of the nails, particularly well stuck. “Your power is rooted on the Isle of Locke, and its restoration—and the new High Lady’s ascension—ended the war.” She pulled harder, using the distraction to stall. If Caspian was truly her husband, what else would he tell her of the Resurrection? She settled with what she knew from Celestine. “But there have been odd fluctuations, right?”

“Right,” Gail said, shifting. “We know she has some ability to control who does and doesn’t have power, but some wonder if these fluctuations are… unintentional. If something went wrong, or if she is somehow failing at her post.”

The nail finally came free. Nore pocketed it, then set to the next one. “So the fear is that she is unstable? But how will removing her make things any better, if eliminating her can wipe out the entire system?”

“Historically, Locke was always ruled by a well, as it is now,” Gail said. “But there has also been a bound mage there, usually installed very shortly after the ascension of the new High Sovereign—so my High Lord, Nestrias, has been advised that this lack of a mage could be causing the imbalance. After all, it is not our way to bend to wells—the mage always takes precedence.”

Nore opened the crate, frowning into the dark. Something about Gail’s assessment sounded… unbalanced. Analyzing that particular thread was not her job. “So the ideal outcome is she marries the suitor of your choice,” Nore said. She found the bottle she was looking for and checked the label—a vintage grenoir blaus, imported from Isbeta. Nore set it aside, covered the case, and went to work putting the nails back.