Page 67 of The Thief and the Traitor Bride

She sat up and took the draught. It was both bitter and sweet on her tongue, too thick, sliding down her throat quite like she imagined it would feel to eat a slug. Nore winced, then took some of the water. “Is this Idistran?” she asked.

“Indeed.”

Nore settled back on the pillows, drawing the covers up. She felt heinous, but she didn’t think Caspian was willing to delay whatever conversation they were about to have.

“What is it?” Nore asked.

“You don’t have to pretend. I know I’m right.”

Nore raised an eyebrow.

“Your mission has nothing to do with the artifact, and besides keeping me in line, nothing to do with me, either. Celestine sent you to spy on Locke and report back to her.”

It was close, but not quite right. Still too close for comfort. “I already told you—”

“I know,” Caspian said harshly, cutting her off. “It’s none of my business, and it makes you feel safer if I keep out of it. You think you can’t trust me, and I know I’ve done little to prove otherwise. But this is a death mission, Nore, whether you understand it or not. And the questions you’re asking, the alliances you’re probing—perhaps you are doing it well, but you don’t have the knowledge to do it safely, to avoid detection. You will make a misstep, word will get back to the High Lady, and she will kill you. Do you understand?”

Nore looked at her hands. One was still smeared with blood from last night, more of it crusted under her fingernails. She was so tired—not just from the mission, but from years of weariness compounding.

“That’s not a proposal,” Nore said.

Caspian set his hand on her thigh over the blankets—and he wasn’t wearing his gloves. Nore didn’t flinch this time.

Perhaps, she thought darkly, this was what honesty felt like.

“Let me help you,” he said.

Her gaze flicked up, meeting his, searching for the trick. But his expression was clear and open, honest with her, like they were just Finch and Cas again. Nore said nothing. She didn’t trust her own tongue.

“Let’s work together, in earnest. Share your information with me—I know you have more than I’ve seen—and I will help you decode what it means and understand how it matters. I’ve been watching you think yourself in circles for weeks. We make a good team. If we want to get out of this alive, that may be the only way.”

Nore regarded him carefully. She didn’t like it… but he wasn’t wrong. “So, what? No rules? No parameters? I just… tell you what I’m doing, and you help? No matter what?”

“Not quite,” Caspian said, his hand tightening. “I won’t steal from the High Lady or her fortress. I am good at evading traps, yes, but I’m not sure what protections one could summon if they have all the power of a system behind them.”

“Right,” Nore said. She rubbed her face, careful to avoid her nose. None of this felt or sounded good, and yet, it was tempting. Too tempting.

You can’t trust him. You can’t forget what happened last time.

“What happens if the medallion is in Locke’s possession?” Nore asked, daring him to reveal the truth.

“Then only one of us will succeed, and Celestine must be happy with that,” Caspian said, holding her gaze.

It wasn’t good enough. Celestine would not accept that as an answer, not when her primary objective for using Caspian was to get the artifact. But there was no guarantee the High Lady had it in the first place, and if Nore could get to the bottom of Gail’s reports and have expertise in Idistra?

She couldn’t make this decision. Not now with her head aching and her stomach twisting, not now when Caspian was looking at her like that.

“I don’t know,” Nore said finally. “I’ll think about it.”

He opened his mouth, about to protest—but he probably realized that the fastest way to get her to reject his offer would be to push for it. “Okay,” Caspian said. He cleared his throat. “The coach will be here soon.” He did not remind her of the blood on her hands or the weariness in her face, but he didn’t have to.

Nore sighed, closing her eyes. “Right. I’ll be ready.”

The initial meeting with Gail’s scholar was scheduled in their office, tucked away in the University of Rinka’s library. Nore had never been to university herself—she hadn’t needed to, since she had apprenticed with Edith—so she felt a restless unfamiliarity in the library. The shelves of books seemed to judge her, the dust and layers of academia reinforcing the idea that, in the grand scheme of things, she actually knew very little.

“Their specialty lies in Idistran artifacts and the ancient lore of the land and Isle,” Gail told them, voice low, as he led the way through the library. “I met them years ago, at a charity auction to rebuild an Eprainish temple to the old gods. Quick as a whip, the professor is. A very unique way of dressing, but it works.”

“That’s good to know,” Nore murmured, watching Caspian as he paused to look at the spine of a book. He looked up, caught her eye. Caspian quickened his pace, catching up to them, one hand moving to rest on the small of her back.