Page 132 of The Thief and the Traitor Bride

“Yes,” Nore insisted, her eyes slipping shut as he rolled her onto her back. For the best, she thought as his fingers tangled in her hair, as she kissed him back hungrily, as he took her wrists and pinned them above her head, his grip a vise, holding her down—

And if he betrayed her, if he turned on her, if she wanted to reach for her blade or protect herself, she would not be able to. She remembered the weight of him on her that night, the cool blade turning to searing pain as he drove it into her side, the way his face shimmered into recognition as she bled out onto the floor. She remembered every blow, the certainty of death in her mouth, the certainty that it was coming from his hands.

Except: He would never hurt her. Not knowingly—he would never do anything that would harm her. Even if she couldn’t forget the bite of the metal, the pain of the wound.

He would never hurt her intentionally. But if his purposes no longer aligned with hers… He was capable of it. When it came to her, there was no one else who could cause so much damage.

“Cas,” she gasped, breaking the kiss.

She felt the hesitation in his grip and realized how tense her body had become. He dropped his head to her neck, releasing her hands. She did not push him away, even though it was the right thing to do. She ran her hands over his shoulders, down his back, palms flat against his skin.

“Chivalry?” he murmured against her collarbone.

She closed her eyes, held him to her as close as she could. “I can’t… I can’t not remember,” she said softly.

He sighed, his hands skimming over her sides. He moved again, settling next to her, still caught in her embrace. “I guess neither of us can forget the past,” he said.

Nore ran her thumb over his lower lip, hating the catch in her voice when she said, “You’ll be happy. In Nadira, or wherever you go. With this—and me—behind you for good.”

“I will,” he promised. He turned his face to kiss her palm, then hesitated. “But would you forgive me,” he said against her hand, “if we pretended for a little bit longer?”

She leaned her head against his chest, listening to the beat of his heart. “I’d forgive you,” she said.

And she could pretend, too—she’d always been good at lying, after all. Nore let him adjust, her head pillowed on his chest, his arms around her, gentle as he ever had been. She lost track of everything but the touch of his fingers gracing over her skin, memorizing the feel of her, the tickle of his breath against the top of her head.

Nore closed her eyes, focusing only on the beat of his heart and the touch of his hands, and she let herself pretend that whatever had passed between them wasn’t already over.

Caspian stayed behind at the inn, planning to warn Terlo to depart imminently, then pack his and Nore’s things—they’d need to make a quick exit, even if all went well—while Nore sent a message to Gail. She arranged the meeting for a café in Maerin’s upper hills. Nore sat herself at a table outside that looked out at the harbor, where the wind whipped loud enough that they would not be overheard. Other occupants at nearby tables leaned close, every conversation turning intimate in the chill.

It was good to be out in the cold, even though it was not quite bracing today. Good to be away from her room, and focusing on something—and good to have some distance from Caspian, to clear her head.

It wasn’t too long before she saw the figure coming up the road, hat low and cloak pulled tight around him. Nore edged the tea closer to his chair as Gail sat down, blowing into his fingers. “You couldn’t pick a meeting place that was, oh, I don’t know, inside?”

Nore snorted. “I wanted air.”

“Not everyone has the same problem with stale air as you,” Gail muttered, bringing his tea close. He took a sip, looking out at the harbor—ships were still coming and going (mostly going, as a significant number of the public festivities had concluded), and the bay sparkled with the glimmers of sunlight that poked through the clouds.

“But,” Gail admitted begrudgingly, “it is a good meeting place.”

And it was: Far enough out of the main square of town that no one would go there unless they already knew it existed. Their backs were sheltered, as the patio overlooking the harbor could only be reached by going through the shop itself, and it was difficult to see or discern by anyone who wasn’t actively standing in the harbor and looking. Nore had found it the other day when they were walking down from the tailor’s shop.

She took a sip of her coffee. “I have a request of you,” she said.

Gail raised an eyebrow. “And,” he said, a note softer, “I saw you received a message for me. I noticed you speaking to my friend Tam—Tam Loren?”

Under the table, Nore knotted her hand in her skirt. So, Gail had seen Loren delivering the message in the ballroom the other day.

Nore was unable to stop the surge of bitterness as she recalled it. Prepare for alternative option. Yet, based on the discussion she’d heard the other night, she couldn’t fight the feeling that the alternative option would lead to the High Lady dead or otherwise maimed—and try as she might, the idea of it still made her feel deeply uncomfortable.

It wasn’t a conscious decision to lie. She didn’t know what purpose it served, or perhaps she’d spent too much time with Caspian. But Nore took a breath, her thumb running over the seam of her cloak as she turned back to Gail. “She seems to be bending,” Nore said. “Negotiations are progressing slowly with everyone and she is hard to read, but Loren thinks she may still change her mind.”

Gail brightened immediately—of course he wouldn’t question it, wouldn’t do the legwork required to validate or invalidate her information. Nore never believed anything unless she had it corroborated by a second source or confirmed it herself, but Gail certainly had no qualms. “Though, that seems… somewhat at odds…” He thought for a moment longer, then shook his head. “Well, it matters less. That’s very good news. I have one more task for you. You remember what Loren looks like, yes?”

“We’re leaving,” Nore said, grateful that she at least had a proper excuse. “Caspian and I are finishing up, so we will probably be back on the mainland by midnight, with the aim to be on a ship to Lindan by daybreak. Which is why we need you for—”

“That’s no matter,” Gail said, flippant. “This won’t take you very long.”

Nore held her tongue.