Page 51 of The Thief and the Traitor Bride

Nore slid her papers into a leather binder. When she opened the carriage door, Caspian was there, waiting to help her down. If his healing hand bothered him, he did not give any indication.

Standing straight, Nore squared her shoulders and straightened her skirts. She’d spent extra time getting ready that morning, carefully lining her eyes and rouging her cheeks, pulling her hair into a tidy bun on top of her head. She wore one of her favorite dresses for both travel and business, a gray wool apron style, with a pale-blue shirt underneath and a pearl-and-sapphire pin at her throat. Over her shoulders, she wore a heavy cloak to protect herself against the Idistran chill.

A servant with a kind, rosy face was already waiting for them, helping Caspian with the sample crates. Nore cast an eye around the foyer and hall as they followed the servant to the formal parlor, pretending to admire it as she took in the décor: the mansion was not one of the older buildings but newly constructed in an old style, built postwar to honor Mrs. Knight’s marriage. Despite the thick windows, she was chilled inside the stone walls.

Nore hesitated, looking at one of the old-fashioned sconces on the wall, lit with mage-powered light. Caspian paused next to her.

“I didn’t realize heat like that could sustain,” Nore murmured, focusing back on the sconces that ran down the hall. In the parlor, another servant was preparing for their arrival.

“Passive magic,” Caspian said, his hand moving to the sphere of heat. “It’s become much easier since the Resurrection. I imagine they have mages and wells on staff who set the castings in the mornings and extinguish them at night.”

Nore passed her hand near one of them. The purple light gave off dim heat. “It runs untethered?”

“Yes,” Caspian said. He frowned, glancing down the hall. “But… well. It’s been more difficult to run passive castings in Luthar and Eprain. They must have a Scaelan on staff, or a Stratan.”

“But why—”

“Ms. Gordon?” the servant said from the doorway. “I can escort you through, if you please.”

She glanced at Caspian, but he had fallen silent. She would have to investigate this thread later.

“Thank you,” Nore said. She followed the servant, Caspian falling into step behind her.

Lucia Knight was already arranged on a divan, a dress spread out over her legs, a blanket over that. Her two friends sat to one side of her on low couches. The room, Nore realized, was decorated in continental style—Idistran design favored comfort over elegance, but the pleated silk of the divan and the low, stylized furniture screamed that they were imported from the Maroushan court. Nore had spent many an uncomfortable afternoon on low furniture like that in the years when it seemed that Lindan and Marous might actually go to war again.

Nore bowed her head in deference. “Mrs. Knight, it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, and thank you for accepting our invitation.” Nore felt a prickle as the women’s eyes slid over her, as at least one of them focused on Caspian as he discarded his jacket and rolled his shirt to his elbows, as he started to take out the bottles.

Perhaps he would make himself useful after all.

Caspian remembered more than she could’ve guessed: as Nore made her introductions to Lucia and her friends, Elspeth and Fiona, he set the low table in front of them with appropriate tasting glasses and spittoons.

She supposed it made sense. When she was preparing for Edith’s many tests of her knowledge, she practiced on him, after all.

“It’s a delight to host you, Ms. Gordon,” Lucia said when everything was mostly set. “Are you in need of a well? I have a girl here on hand who has offered to assist.”

Nore glanced over to the young woman waiting by the door, dressed in the pale blue Lucia’s other servants wore. She had a necklace, though, with a white opal pendant—the same stone as the signet ring Gail wore.

So this was Gail’s spy.

“Caspian?” she asked. “Will you need a well?”

“It would make things easier, yes,” he said.

“Then yes, if it’s no trouble. And please, call me Nore,” she said, pulling the small leather wrap of her tools out of her bag, laying it on the table. Inside was a small blade for cutting metal labels, a selection of corkscrews, and a device that allowed wine to be poured without fully removing the cork, so she could offer the women samples of the wine without completely opening each bottle.

Without being asked, Caspian knelt beside her, lining up the necessary decanters along the edge of the table. “Chilled, for these?” Caspian asked quietly, gesturing to a selection of white, pale-green, and blush bottles he’d set aside.

Nore smiled. “Please,” she said without thinking too much about where he would be getting ice.

But that was not a worry—to her surprise, Caspian laid a hand on each of the thick metal chillers as he put the bottles in them; at his touch, they frosted before her eyes.

The ladies on the couch made appreciative noises at the demonstration of his magic. Caspian only smiled.

A materialist. Of course, Nore thought, oddly annoyed—she’d always known what his magic was here. It just hadn’t mattered outside Idistra.

“I have read your notes on your preferences,” Nore said, turning her smile back to Lucia, eager to divert attention from Caspian. “Based on that, I’ve brought a selection of fine wines from around the world that I hope you will enjoy.” She did not miss how Fiona, the woman on the end, kept an eye on Caspian.

“That sounds wonderful,” Lucia said, her hands folded over her lap.