Page 85 of The Thief and the Traitor Bride

Despite the mist, she could not ignore the natural beauty of the Isle. It was shaped like a bowl, tipped forward; the fortress was on the highest side, the dramatic stone rising to the sky and overlooking the rest of the place, accessible by a skinny road that wound up the hill on one side. As she gained elevation, she could see Maerin growing smaller and smaller behind her and Osar over to the east, in the lowest point. There were scattered villages along the road, bearing names that felt strange to Nore’s tongue: Oleyndar and Repka and Dalgar. The Barrens, too, rose up in the distance at the northernmost point of the Isle, half-obscured by a rolling fog that came down from the hills.

As she approached the small wood, she took in the stillness of it, the oddness. The trees were tall but skinny, so even though she couldn’t see through to the other side, there was not the sense of being enveloped. She veered left, toward the westernmost area of the Isle, aiming for the place that Caspian had marked. She wondered if there was some way to reach the cliffs; with the way the Isle curved, she might be able to see the mainland of Idistra.

Nore kept walking, hands in her pockets, thinking of her own fragile sensibilities. She was rewarded: it was peaceful here, with the crashing of the waves and the call of seabirds.

She sighed. Alone with her thoughts, in the bracing fresh air, she could examine the feelings she was unwilling to otherwise confront.

The truth: Caspian had betrayed her. He’d broken her heart and nearly killed her. He’d lied to her for years.

And yet—and yet. Her blood sang in her veins every time she looked at him. He made her laugh. And though there was distance between them, it was becoming annoyingly easier and easier to remember why she’d loved him in the first place. It was as if she had written off his personality as a lie, due to the fact that he’d been a thief and a traitor, and forgotten all the reasons she had fallen for him.

Six years they’d been married, and together four before that. When Nore thought about it, she felt a heavy weight in her stomach over how one night had crumbled their relationship.

One night that revealed years of lies, she reminded herself.

But they had never spoken about it. And besides the letters in Celestine’s dossier, she knew nothing of his motivations for turning traitor on the Lindle crown all those years before.

But he was not just a traitor to Lindan, was he? He was here now, turning his back on Luthar. Perhaps he was only invested in his own self-interest.

Perhaps none of that sounded like the man she’d once known.

Nore was so lost in her own thoughts that she didn’t realize there was a cemetery in front of her until she’d entered the outermost circle of graves. She looked up, startled; there were stone monuments, similar to the ones in Lindan, but also ancient cairns and long, rectangular stones, all manner of graves. Through the trees, Nore could only just make out a building, also stone, potentially crumbling; beyond that, there was only sea.

So this was what Caspian wanted to investigate. It was old, possibly old enough to have something they could use—but it was a ruin. She wasn’t sure what they’d be able to glean from it.

Nore took another hesitant step, scanning the stones. All of them had writing on them, but some of it was utterly illegible, in some sort of runic language.

There was a statue beside one of the cairns, a gray kneeling shape. Or—it took Nore a moment to realize—not a statue at all. A person, hooded and cloaked, in gray so dark it was nearly black.

“I thought the commander made himself clear,” the figure said in a low alto. The accent was new to Nore. “I am not to be disturbed here.”

Nore sucked in a breath, startled, and pressed a hand to her heart. She was fairly certain the low noise she’d just heard was the sound of a blade being drawn. “I’m sorry,” Nore said. “I didn’t mean to sneak up on you.”

The figure turned, and Nore had the impression she was being searched. Pale hands reached up, pulling the hood aside. It was a woman, Nore realized, with a long, dark braid snaking over one shoulder and eyes like flint. She had a strong nose and a vicious-looking scar that ran from the corner of her jaw, across her throat, disappearing into her cloak. She looked… cold. Cold and a little mean. Nore took a step back.

“Sorry,” the woman said. “I thought you were someone else.”

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” Nore said. “I was just on a walk.”

The woman rose gracefully. She was shorter than Nore but cut an imposing figure, even with the tip of her nose red from the cold and her body obscured by her cloak. “Not many come walking this way,” she said.

Nore looked around. “I don’t actually know where I am,” she said, reaching for an excuse that wasn’t, I’m trying to find an ancient artifact, actually. It was hard, sometimes, to pretend to be a normal person—so she reached for whatever she thought a normal woman, on a walk alone, might say.

The woman squinted at her. “You’re not from here.”

“No.” Nore hesitated.

“Why did you come here?”

The words fell from her mouth—probably, it was too early and she was too weary to think of better lies. “The Isle? I’m here for the festival.”

A flick of her lips, like that wasn’t an answer to the question. “And the woods?” the woman asked.

Nore shrugged. “I was… seeking peace. It was loud in the city, and I wanted air. I don’t like cities all that much—I live in one now, and I often find more to hate there than to like.”

“What kind of city?” the woman asked. She leaned back against the stone she’d been kneeling in front of. It looked newer than the others. Nore could only just read KI on one line and HI on the line below.

“Um.” It was an odd question, part of an odd conversation. Nore did not know how much to say—she never really knew how much of herself to reveal anymore, if she was a spy or if she was a woman or if she was something else entirely. “It’s… big, I suppose. Or rather, a medium-sized city with a big harbor for trade.” The woman did not interrupt her, so Nore swallowed, thought, and continued. “It… smells awful. There’s always smoke from the factories and piss on the streets.”