Page 64 of The Thief and the Traitor Bride

“And you will say, if it is too much?” he asked, his thumb caressing the peak of her breast.

“I will,” she promised.

“Choose a word,” Cas said, his thumb circling lazily, as if he didn’t know the tension it threaded through her. Of course he did. He could certainly feel her straining against him, and she knew he was not unaffected, either. She could feel the hard length of him pressing against her lower back.

Nore stilled, holding his gaze in the mirror. “Chivalry,” she said.

He laughed, but his hands were busy rucking up her skirts, then one hand was on her bound wrists as he pushed her down, the edge of the vanity sharp against her hips and cold against her cheek as she lay forward. He groaned her name when his hand strayed between her thighs, when he felt her slick against his fingers.

“Chivalry it is,” he said as he leaned forward, his teeth grazing her neck.

It’s worth it, she thought desperately as his hand tightened on her wrists, as she felt the pleasure building all over her body. It’s worth it, to have him. To keep everything.

The coldest part of the year came, and with it, Celestine’s greatest challenge. She was there in Nore’s office one morning when she entered, shivering with cold despite her heavy coat—in truth, it was one of Cas’s, but it was warm and thick and smelled of her husband.

She hung it quickly, draping her scarf over it. “Your Highness,” Nore said, pulling off her gloves and adjusting her skirts. When she turned to bow to Celestine, she was the picture of perfection, just as was expected. “To what do I owe the honor?”

“Little bird,” Celestine said. It was what she always called her—Nore wondered, sometimes, if it was a purposeful distancing between the duchess and Nore’s true identity, and her upbringing in Arlowe. “Lock the doors and obscure yourself.”

Nore took a deep breath, but she obeyed. She calculated the spell that made the locks click, and she focused her magic on blurring her features. Celestine took a long look at her before her smile spread.

“Very good,” she said.

“What can I do for you, Your Highness?” Nore said, moving quickly to the seat behind her desk. When it was this cold, Edith didn’t even bother coming in anymore. Just last week, they’d had a meeting with Edith’s solicitor to update the old woman’s will—and Nore knew that the time was drawing close, in which she’d no longer have Edith’s guidance to rely on.

“I have a task for you, but I’ll warn you: it’s complicated.”

Nore folded her hands in front of her, forcing herself not to fidget, forcing herself to stillness. Pidge, one of her tutor-spies, had chided her earlier that week about her lack of stillness and how it made her noticeable in a crowd.

“I like complicated,” Nore said. She always found it easiest to be agreeable when it came to the duchess’s tasks.

“Very good.” The duchess withdrew a dossier from within her cloak. “There has been a problem, of late, with artifacts going missing. It’s been fairly widespread—many of Nettlepool’s private collectors have been hit in some way. Originally, we suspected a team, but we have reason to believe it is one thief, acting alone.”

“An ambitious thief,” Nore said, turning it over.

“It would seem that way. There seems to be no rhyme or reason, nothing connecting the artifacts—except for the fact that all of them are rumored to have magical properties.”

Nore looked out the window, watching the traffic on the street as she ordered her thoughts. “I imagine we’re discussing something more significant than potions or stones?”

“Indeed,” Celestine said. “There is growing unrest, and my royal cousin would like this to be handled quickly and quietly. These thefts, and the whispers you’ve been hearing about growing anti-Lindle sentiment in Marous…”

If they were connected, Nore thought, then any objects transported to Marous could be used against Lindan in the potential conflict that could follow. “Are the objects really so deadly?” she asked.

“Some of them, yes,” Celestine said. “All of them are too valuable to lose. I need you to find the thief so one of my handlers can bring them in for questioning.”

“You want me to catch them?”

“Not catch. You should leave the actual interaction to someone with…” Celestine’s eyes traced over Nore, from her bare collarbones to her thin wrists. “Training,” she finished with a smile.

“Ah,” Nore said. She didn’t like feeling deficient.

“Killing is not your job, little bird.”

“I understand.”

“Do you?”

Nore did not understand the look in Celestine’s eyes. “I will find your thief,” she said, shuffling the papers back into a neat pile, “and I will not do more than my training has asked of me.”