Page 130 of The Thief and the Traitor Bride

Nore drew a breath. He leaned in to kiss her, their movement shifting slower and deeper, losing the frenetic energy. One of Caspian’s hands moved, shifting over her hip, his fingers going to the place she needed them, and she gasped against his mouth as she crashed over the edge.

Caspian followed, gripping her ever tighter, his breath shaped into her name as he found his release. They remained for a while, Nore tight in his arms, tight against his body, as if everything would change the instant he let her go.

Nore drew her face from the crook of his shoulder. Her cheeks were wet, she realized. Caspian must’ve made the same observation—his thumb traced her cheekbone.

“Would you like a bath?” he asked, his voice low and soft. His hands traced her like she was a precious thing.

Nore nodded. “That would be nice,” she said. Still neither moved. Nore leaned up and kissed him, like that wasn’t all she’d thought about for these last few weeks.

She didn’t think she imagined the way his lips curled into a smile when they met hers.

Nore woke up in the middle of the night, uncertain why. Her body remembered before her mind did—but she sat up, searching for Cas in the sheets. He was gone and the bed was cold.

Across the room, her trunk was open—the window, too, with the curtains stirring in the wind. That was all Nore noticed before Cas slithered into existence, absent one second and there the next.

“Fucking gods,” she hissed, drawing the blankets up over her chest. His sleeves were rolled up, despite the chill, and he’d dragged a thumb through the symbols inked on his forearm. Nore blinked as he slid inside like a thief and closed the window with barely a noise.

“Cas?” she asked.

He glanced at her over his shoulder. “I didn’t mean to wake you,” he said. He wore all black, she realized. When he stripped to his shorts and crawled back into bed, he radiated cold.

His scar still shimmered with the remnants of ink, when he reached for her.

She turned in his arms, trying to see his face, but there was no moon tonight—or perhaps there was, and the clouds did everything in their power to cover it completely.

“Have you slept at all?”

“Mm.” Caspian nestled into her neck. She shivered at the press of his ears against her, colder than the rest of her body. She cradled his head against her—after so long of careful touches, avoidances, lying as far from him as the mattress would allow, she was now drunk on his skin, completely taken with the familiarity of pulling him close and holding him tight. “Not particularly.”

“Where did you go?”

He sighed. For a long moment, he didn’t answer, and she wondered if he would answer at all. She’d almost thought he’d fallen asleep when he said, “You asked me to retrieve the journal.”

Nore stiffened, pulling back. “And I thought you said that was a betrayal.”

“Don’t you see, Finch?” Caspian looked at her from the pillow. Even in the dark, she knew his face like the beat of her own heart. “I would betray even the gods for you.”

Nore drew a breath. “You shouldn’t say things like that,” she said, tracing the curve of his lip with her fingertip. If he spoke like that, it became harder—and then impossible—to pretend.

“Admitting blasphemy out loud is no worse than knowing the truth in my heart,” he said quietly.

Nore looked away. She sat up, drawing her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around herself. “Did you… find anything in it?”

“I went through the spells. Copied down any I didn’t recognize,” he said, nodding to the wrapped shape on the vanity. “But that’s a problem for the voyage back, when we have plenty of time to poke at spells. I tried to decipher more, but it kept going to my head—I need sleep first.” He was looking at her, taking in her skin. As she watched, he very gently raised his hand and touched the scar between her ribs.

Nore let out a breath. “That’s… good. We can act then.” She chewed her lip, not wanting to push. But… “Did you find anything else?”

Caspian’s gaze flicked up to hers, then away. “I went to the Ghostwood,” he said. “Terlo is right—there’s something there, something powerful. I couldn’t access it myself. I’m going to need a well.”

“Oh,” Nore said, her heart jumping. “Do you think it’s the artifact?”

Caspian sighed, throwing an arm over his face. “I’ve not felt anything like it on the Isle. So if it’s not the artifact, it’s something powerful—and I find it hard to believe there are two enchanted items in a system that shouldn’t have any enchanted items at all.”

“Ah.” Nore caught his hand, now still on her thigh, and laced her fingers through his. How easily they touched now—how much she had craved the feeling of him close to her. “I suppose this isn’t something we can just hire a well for,” she said.

“No,” Caspian said. “Terlo is a typic—and I want them off the Isle tomorrow, anyway. If this blows up, I want them safely back on the mainland. But Gail…”

Nore looked away. If they went asking Gail for help, she’d need to tell him about the message from Loren. She had hoped they could get away without seeing him again. But this was her mission, and she needed to complete it. “I’ll speak to him tomorrow,” she said.