Page 82 of The Thief and the Traitor Bride

Mx. Ionas rolled their eyes. “Fine. If you are insistent on knowing, it’s meant to protect its owner from capture.”

Nore raised an eyebrow. “Are you expecting to be captured, then?”

“You’re always too quick,” Mx. Ionas said, putting their arm through Nore’s and leading her out of the room. Nore did not miss how their gaze often lingered on Nore’s face, as if searching to see if something was there. Nore liked them well enough, but obviously, anything more than that was out of the question. For one, Nore was married. And even if she weren’t, she would not mix business with pleasure.

Perhaps, she thought grimly, Edith had a point there.

“I like the appeal of freedom, Miss Gordon,” Mx. Ionas said. “And I thought I could keep a bit of it for myself.”

Nore laughed despite herself. “That’s a contradiction,” she said.

“A bit like you,” Mx. Ionas said, their gaze softening on Nore’s face.

Nore flushed red. She did not ask for an explanation.

That night, and in the nights following, she started spinning a web. She whispered of the artifact to some of her confidants: a feather, magicked with the ability to escape captivity. An artifact of freedom itself.

Three weeks later, when Nore got the invitation to dine with Mx. Ionas and a large gathering of friends, she was ready. If she couldn’t track the thief, then she simply had to be there when they struck again.

Cas lounged on their bed, lying on his stomach with his chin propped on his hands as she prepared. “Our wedding anniversary is next month.”

Nore’s hands stilled on her dresses. “Is it?”

“Yes. Six years.” A pause. “Do you think you could lie, take a weekend?”

“I’m not sure,” Nore hedged. She flipped through her dresses, looking for one suitable. She was wearing silk undergarments and a padded corset; Cas had made his appreciation for the ensemble clear with a long, heated gaze. Even now, she felt his eyes tracking her.

“Maybe, when the time comes, we can redo our vows,” Cas said. He’d started speaking about such things more frequently lately—and Nore felt a pang every time she reminded him it was impossible. “Have a party. Invite whomever we want. After you take over the business fully, I mean.”

Nore held up one of her dresses, slate gray silk cut low. “I suppose,” Nore said. In truth, she hadn’t thought much of it lately, since Celestine’s tasks had started to take just as much time as the day-to-day running of Miller & Sons. She hated to admit it, but—now that her job was half spycraft, she worried that Cas’s presence at these dinners and meetings, where she often sat and absorbed information, would only serve to deter her. “What do you think of this one?”

“I think you’re determined to kill me with your beauty,” Cas said, rolling onto his back, throwing an arm over his eyes. “Particularly the fact that I do not get to enjoy it, and everyone else does.”

Nore swatted his arm with one of the silk sleeves. “You are the only true spectator to my so-called beauty,” she said. She shimmied into the dress, admiring the effect it had on her figure in the mirror. “Can you do my buttons?”

Cas shifted to stand behind her, his fingers quick and efficient. “Can I undo them later?” he asked, pressing a kiss to her neck.

She met his eye in the mirror, smirking. “Don’t tempt me now, Khari. Places to be. Wine to drink.”

“You could stay home,” he whispered, nipping the lobe of her ear.

Nore laughed, pulling away. She gave in to him too easily, indulged him too much. “I won’t be out too late,” she promised, reaching for her necklace. She slid the chain over her head, letting the ring nestle deep in the folds of her gown. Nore turned to kiss Cas once more, touched up the stain on her lips, and slipped out the door.

Her heart pounded in her chest. On some level, she felt that tonight was the night she would catch the thief.

She knew, of course, that she should send a note to Sparrow to let them know of her thoughts, to arrange for another spy to join her in case she ensnared the thief—but Nore couldn’t fight the feeling that she deserved to see the culmination of her own hard work. She deserved to know who the thief was.

She took a carriage to the Ionas household. There, the guests were already gathering. Nore kept to her plan: she had a glass of water, a glass of wine, and then feigned a headache. In their unending hospitality, Mx. Ionas offered Nore one of the parlors for a short, undisturbed rest. Nore graciously accepted—and there, she quickly slipped out, into the back office where the feather was kept. Nore crossed the room on silent feet and hid herself in one of the great armoires of Mx. Ionas’s coats, her eye trained on the place where the feather rested.

It felt like hours to Nore, waiting in the stuffiness of the closet. She was beginning to grow antsy, aware that someone might come looking for her at any moment, when the window slid open.

Nore bit her lip to stifle her gasp. She closed her eyes tight for a moment, focusing—she felt the tingle in her fingers and toes as she engaged Celestine’s shield, blurring her features. If she failed in her task, she didn’t want the thief to recognize her as the proprietor of Miller & Sons. Celestine and Edith had both told her how dangerous it could be to let herself be identified.

The blurring made her feel filmy and uncertain, but she was obscured. She watched the masked figure move across the room silently. Even with most of their face covered, they, too looked blurred—Nore had no doubt they employed the same enchantment.

Her hand trembled as she lifted her skirt, drawing the knife from the holster she’d strapped to her thigh in the carriage. Nore moved slowly, as silently as she could, as she slipped out of the closet. She put herself between the thief and the door.

Perhaps they’d known she was there the whole time. Perhaps they’d been waiting for her to show her hand. Nore never knew.