Page 135 of The Thief and the Traitor Bride

“I think so,” Nore said, barely able to speak around the lump in her throat. She tried to take a breath, but her chest felt too tight, and it came out as a shuddery sob. She glanced up, looking at Cas. “It feels,” she said quietly, “like death itself.”

Caspian’s mouth pressed into a grim line.

“I’m sorry, Finch,” he said.

Before she could ask why, she felt the metal at her back. Nore did not know much, but she knew where the point of the sword rested—if whomever held it pushed it in, it would spear her right through the heart.

“Lindan,” the voice behind her said. “I had hoped for better from you.”

Nore went very, very still.

“Ola,” Locke said. “Retrieve it.”

A hand snaked out from Nore’s other side and snatched the chain from her palm. Nore didn’t dare move, even as Ola hissed a breath. “It’s… hot,” she said. “What is this?”

“Is that Kier’s—”

“Don’t,” Locke said, interrupting the new voice. “Do not fucking say it.”

No one spoke. For a minute, the silence was tense.

“I have her,” Locke said sharply. It took Nore a second to process, but someone grabbed her by her braid and pulled her back, away from the tomb, as the sword moved. She was tugged hard, pulled fast against Locke’s chest, and then the sword was at her throat. “Kier, cover them.”

Another shape detached from the shadows. It was the commander, grim faced as he stepped to one of the corners. Gail looked ashen and terrified as the Viper took his place and guided them in repositioning the stone altar.

“I liked you,” Locke said, very low against Nore’s ear. “This is a disappointment.”

Nore tried to focus. There were three other knights besides Locke and the Viper: Ola, their friend Brit, from the other night, and a new person whom Nore had not met at the previous festivities. All of them had varying looks of annoyance on their faces. Once the slab was in place, Ola and the newcomer moved to Gail. Ola’s friend stayed back, half-shadowed, as the Viper turned to Caspian—

Nore’s breath caught. He can kill with only a look, everyone said, and now that look was directed at Caspian, and Nore’s heart threatened to pound out of her chest.

“Thank you for the tip,” the Viper said.

Caspian pressed his lips together grimly. He stepped back, folding his hands behind his back. “An honor to be of service.”

Nore’s heart dropped.

Because the Viper of Osar did not kill Caspian. Because Locke held a blade to Nore’s throat. Because they’d been interrupted. Because Locke and her retinue were here, intervening, because they’d known.

“Caspian?” Nore said, her voice and heart breaking.

He did not look at her.

“Eron, take her,” Locke said, steely. The other knight moved forward, gripping Nore’s elbow, and set to tying her up. Locke let the sword drop from Nore’s throat. She realized the others were tying up Terlo and Gail, and Caspian was taking his coat from the Viper’s hands and shrugging it on, and they had been caught.

No, not caught—betrayed.

“Grey,” someone said quietly. Nore turned, still fighting the ragged grief, as Ola came over to them.

Ola held out the medallion. It glinted in the moonlight, silver and black with age. Locke took it in her hands, and something flickered in her face—she looked up at the commander.

“Kier?”

He shook his head. “You keep it,” he said, a rough edge to his voice. “It’s already yours.”

Locke opened her mouth, looking like she was about to say something—then she closed it, shook her head, and put the medallion around her neck. The faintest shudder went through her as the medallion slipped under her shirt. Then the facade was slipping back into place.

“Take them,” she said, nodding to the others. “And see to it that Mr. Khari is comfortable.”