Page 126 of The Thief and the Traitor Bride

“Perhaps,” Terlo said.

“How old is she?” Nore asked, thinking back to the conversation she’d had with Locke.

They cocked their head. “Twenty-seven, I believe. Not more than that.”

Barely older than Kota—and Nore could not imagine Kota taking over Miller & Sons, let alone running her own country (though, upon thinking about it, Nore realized that she herself was younger than Locke when she’d taken on Miller & Sons and was still only a few years older than Locke now—but that did not mean she thought she could take on the stress of a nation, either).

Nore sighed, rubbing her eyes. It was not worth thinking about. She focused instead on relaying some of the events of the evening (without her discoveries, of course) to Terlo until Caspian returned with the tray and set it up on the vanity.

“I suppose you’re here with some news,” she said.

“Yes,” Terlo said, their excitement clear. Caspian did not interrupt as he distributed the tea, and Terlo spoke. “Bell—he’s a fine fellow, you know, once you get past the surliness; poor thing just struggles with criticism. I understand completely. Once one puts work into the world, it is best to ignore it entirely, but of course an academic, and certainly one of dear Bell’s influence, must think on the criticism quite carefully, and oftentimes respond with—”

“Terlo,” Caspian coughed into his fist. He leaned on one of the dressers, sipping his tea. He had put on a shirt to go for the tea, but he had not buttoned it, and Nore found the tableau uniquely distracting. She turned her gaze down to her own cup. “The artifact?”

“Ah, yes.” They nodded. “Bell has not heard of anything like it. He believes, very strongly, that such a thing would be impossible in a system like this.”

Nore withered in her chair. She couldn’t tell Celestine it just didn’t exist. Clearly, if Celestine had gone through the trouble to send them here, to send Caspian, she had some reason for it.

“But,” Terlo added, “he did show me an illustration of a folkloric motif—I was unable to bring it, of course; I’ve not seen anything like it before. It must’ve been in Osar’s archives for years, with no replicas making their way to the mainland. It is daunting to think how much history lives on this Isle, and how much of it has not yet been translated or shared…” They shook their head. “Frankly, I am in awe of what Bell is doing, and it’s a wonder the High Lady is letting him. Truly, if there is the chance to join him in his work—”

“Terlo,” Caspian said, his head in one hand. “What’s the illustration?”

“Ah. It’s, er, a binding ceremony. Or a marriage ceremony. Between the first well and first mage. And in the exchange, the newly reborn mage presents her well with a necklace. I’ve seen similar necklaces—not the same, I don’t think, but similar—in other depictions of Lochan binding ceremonies.”

“So you think it could be a necklace,” Nore said. “And maybe…?”

“I think that there’s a very good chance the artifact you’re looking for is at the fallen temple to Kitalma, in the Ghostwood,” Terlo said. “And perhaps it does have some power. Bell showed me the earliest writings recorded, and the binding ceremonies used to be much longer, so perhaps there is some indication of how the power works in those writings? I can’t say for certain—I was unfamiliar with the language.” They shook their head, possibly to clear it. “The temple is the first port of call—and if you need to know more about what the medallion does, I recommend you visit Bell again. I would be more than happy to accompany you.”

Nore looked up. Caspian was watching her face carefully—and possibly for good reason. Her stomach, she found, was tied in knots. She thought of the graves, and the sepulcher, and the crumbling church by the sea. She thought of Locke’s face as she gazed out at the waves, as she searched for somewhere to be alone.

There was an inherent wrongness in hearing the name of the place from Terlo’s lips, a defilement. Nore wondered, for the first time, if she really believed in what they were doing.

“I’ve never been through the wood,” Caspian said, “but I know where it is.”

It was, after all, not a very large Isle.

Nore looked at Terlo. “We will think of something,” she said. “There must be some plan that comes together—I guarantee it. But we’re all tired, and we should think about this before we go charging ahead.”

“You’re quite right,” Terlo said. They looked at their own timepiece and tutted. “I suppose bed for all, and reconvene in the morning.”

“Thank you,” Nore said. She accepted a hug and led them to the door, hesitating in the doorway until they were down the hallway. She shut the door, feeling Caspian’s unease before she turned to him.

“Caspian,” she said, preempting his anger. “You know why we’re here.”

“You want me to infiltrate the fortress. To steal that spell.”

“It may be the only way,” Nore said, biting her lip. “I need to know how the medallion works.”

“You don’t,” Caspian said, crossing his arms over his chest. “You only need to know it exists. All she asked was that I bring it to her.”

Nore hesitated. “It’s no different from what we’ve been doing. I can’t just bring back an empty vessel.”

Caspian shook his head. “That is far too invasive, Finch,” he said. “You may be the duchess’s pawn, but I am not.”

“Oh, because you’ve never done such a thing before,” Nore said bitterly. She looked at Caspian. “It’s literally no worse than anything you’ve done already on this mission.”

Caspian looked away. “I’ve not directly crossed Locke for your benefit, and I don’t want to do it now.”