Page 101 of The Thief and the Traitor Bride

“Very well,” Celestine said, beaming with her answering grin. “Finch. And from now on, you will refer to me as Dove.”

In a moment of weakness, she’d looked at Celestine. “What will become of him?”

Celestine’s grin had dimmed. “It is better not to know, Elinore. There is nothing left for you in this but heartbreak.”

Nore swallowed down any other thoughts she had. She nodded. It was for the best, for her to raze whatever affection she had for him to ash and bury it down.

Now, Nore flashed the queen’s coin to gain entrance to the prison. No one questioned her as she moved down the wet, dismal halls.

She found him soon enough, on one of the upper floors. Nore used one of the keys she’d borrowed from the guards and slipped into the room. Cas wouldn’t hurt her, knowing who she was. Knowing she was beloved.

Perhaps that was what set them apart.

He was curled up on the low shelf of a bed, cradling his gauze-wrapped hand to his chest. He slept uneasily.

Nore lowered herself to the floor beside his bed. She ran her hand through his curls, skimming her fingertips over his jaw. His skin burned with fever. Never again would she feel the heat of his skin, the strength of his grip. His eyes flicked open, his mouth curving into a smile on instinct.

“My beautiful Finch,” he said, his unwrapped hand coming up to wrap around her wrist. She winced at the contact on her bruises.

“Caspian,” she said. Nore leaned forward and pressed her lips to his one last time. He frowned against her mouth, as if the memories were only just now coming back.

She skimmed her nose across his cheek, leaning to whisper in his ear. His hand still held her wrist.

“Who are you working for?” she asked. Nore had reviewed the documentation, notes of Caspian smuggling artifacts out of Lindan, but she wanted to be sure. She wanted to hear it from him.

An indrawn breath. A pause. Caspian did not answer. Nore waited, any remaining hope dying. If he would not answer her, she could not bear this.

Then, he said, “Anyone. Anyone but her. Anywhere but Lindan.”

She closed her eyes. “Caspian.”

“Does she own you, Nore? How deep have you let her sink her claws into your flesh? I know how she treats her birds—if you only let me get you away—”

“That’s treason, Cas.” Nore pulled away, swallowing hard. She couldn’t believe he’d hidden this, how much he hated her own flesh and blood.

It was an impossible position. Even being here was a mistake; she had come on her own, without seeking permission. There was a chance this visit would be ill-received by her employer, when she was on thin ice. And if she listened to Caspian…

She had not thought him capable of treason. But how could his actions be explained by anything else? Perhaps he’d asked her to leave Nettlepool, to leave Lindan so many times because he knew time was running out before she knew the truth.

It didn’t matter. Nore knew who she was and who she was to follow.

One last thing. One last promise. That was all she needed to do—and then she could go home, back to the apartment she’d bought outright with her new salary; back to a new life of solitude.

“If I ever see you in Nettlepool again,” Nore said, her voice smooth and soft, “I will kill you.”

“Nore—”

She pulled her hand away, wincing at the bruising. “That’s a promise,” Nore swore. She held his gaze for just a moment longer before she turned and went out.

She didn’t even feel his hand as it snaked into her pocket. She didn’t notice that, when she handed the keys back to the guard, she was short one. She didn’t know she had already been used.

In the street, the air was cold with the threat of winter. Nore leaned against the wall, her breath puffing in front of her. When she could resist it no longer, she shoved her hands in her coat pockets, and she went home.

It wasn’t until weeks later that she was called back for questioning—that she realized that one of the keys on the ring she borrowed had been stolen. If she ever hoped to forget, any dreams of that were dashed: the punishment after made certain that Nore would never again let herself slip, never again do anything to cross the crown.

She lay on her stomach for days in a haze as the pain came again and again: the cut, the burn, the ache of healing, the repetition of her oaths to the crown, all to be started again. She woke after the final punishment to Celestine sitting next to her bed, tears streaking down her face as she stroked Nore’s hair.

Nore felt the sting of her own tears as her aunt leaned down, pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I didn’t want to,” Celestine said, her voice shaky with tears. “Nobody here wants to hurt you, Elinore. But indiscretions must be dealt with.”