Page 106 of The Thief and the Traitor Bride

“Shut up,” Nore muttered. She recovered, straightened her skirts, and patted her side twice for certainty, feeling the heavy weight of the Karathak medallion in her pocket. “You ready?”

“I’m not the one who needed to stop for a breather,” Caspian said.

Nore rolled her eyes. She kept her pace at a relaxed amble, pretending to window-shop. Relina Lark’s shop was on a scenic street that had stunning views of the harbor as the sun set. Nore paused, glancing at the pottery sold next door, then the bakery across the street. She pretended to take a moment looking at the fine gown in the window before she went to the door, leaving it open for a second longer than she needed to.

The front of the shop was a showroom, colorful with different dresses probably created to entice festivalgoers. She glanced in the direction where she thought Caspian stood, then examined the pocket of one of the gowns. A simple sleight of hand, and she moved on from the dress.

The far wall was covered in bolts of fabric and lines of ribbons. Nore made her way to the far counter and leaned over, looking at the door to the back room. “Hello?” she said after a moment.

A short woman bustled out of the back room, her hair piled in a knot on top of her head. “I’m so sorry,” she said, clearly flustered. “I’m just about to close for the night—I would usually stay, but I have an engagement in Osar—”

“Ah, the fault is mine,” Nore said, smiling earnestly. “I didn’t realize it was so close to closing. I can come back tomorrow.”

The woman’s face cleared. “Thank you, and I’m sorry—it’s not usually so busy!”

“I can imagine,” Nore said. She said her goodbyes again, then made her way down the street to the bakery. There, she bought two rolls and a hot tea. She tarried at the counter, drinking her tea, until she saw Relina Lark leave the shop, carrying a large bag stuffed with fabric—probably some sort of work in progress.

Nore waited a few minutes more as the sky darkened and the street cleared. Then, she went back down the street and let herself into the now-unlocked tailor shop.

“Everything work okay?” she asked Caspian.

He nodded to the medallion that hung over the door, blood still glistening on its face. “All enchantments in here are disabled.” He frowned, looking down at his arm, the ink still pristine. “Mine included.”

Nore nodded. “Excellent.” She didn’t like that Relina had seen her face, but she couldn’t make Caspian bring the medallion in—touching it, even unactivated, would’ve undone the power of his inked markings.

She made her way through the darkened shop to the back room, Caspian on her heels. “What exactly are we looking for?” he asked.

She took in the workshop: here, the tables were laden with fabric, the dress forms covered in half-finished designs. One of the tables in the back had pencils and sketches in various states of creation. There was a desk in the far corner, too. The entire back wall was a filing system. Nore went and opened drawers to understand the scope of it: the larger drawers contained pattern pieces and sketches plus prototypes; the smaller ones closer to the desk held receipts, invoices, and purchase orders.

“Let’s hope Relina is organized,” Nore muttered.

“Finch?”

She turned back to Caspian, who lingered in the doorway. “It’s an island, Caspian. If they need anything, they have to import it.”

“Right…”

“And Relina Lark is Locke’s exclusive tailor.”

Caspian only blinked at her.

Nore shook her head, going back to the drawers. They were organized by client names, which was helpful—perhaps the invoices would be the same way, though it would be impossible to link individual purchase orders to a single client.

“The United Council wants Locke to marry before Winterfast. That’s in, what—two months?”

“Closer to three.”

“Either way. She may pretend otherwise, but she is Idistran high nobility. If Locke is to marry, the wedding dress is certainly already in progress. And even if it hasn’t been started yet, there’s a pattern, or a sketch, or some sort of confirmation that fabric has been ordered…”

Caspian stared at her for a moment longer—and then he laughed, shaking his head. “Finch,” he said, his voice tinged with awe. “Your brain horrifies me sometimes, you know.”

Nore chose to ignore this. She nodded to the cabinets closer to the desk. “I’m assuming the invoices are organized by client—can you start there, and I’ll look for patterns?”

“Of course,” Caspian murmured.

They didn’t speak for a while as they worked. Nore made her way down the alphabet, opening drawers and peering at the names on patterns. Many of them were unfamiliar to her, but she wasn’t looking to gather that much information.

She found the drawers dedicated to Locke easily enough. There, Nore found patterns for day dresses and structured bodices, for trousers and hats and slips and corsets. She wavered at the sheer volume of it—but it was organized by date, starting with the most recent. If there was a gown, presumably it would be near the front.