Page 139 of The Thief and the Traitor Bride

He caught her hands, pulling her close. “You never questioned it, did you?” he asked urgently. “How would I even know the terms of your indenture, Finch? How would I have figured it out, that your aunt was Lindan’s spymaster? All those years ago, before the betrayals, before I even met you—I was working for Celestine.”

“You were working for Marous,” she said immediately. “You were a Maroushan spy…”

But as she said it, the words died on her lips.

“Nore,” he said, soft as anything. “They were private contracts. Yes, when you caught me, I was working to buy freedom, on an assignment for a Maroushan client—but not by interfering in political interests. My jobs had nothing to do with espionage at all.”

A chill ran down her spine. At the time, she had figured—had been led to believe—that it was because he was well-connected and talented, and they were paying him. But even if that wasn’t the case, where would he have built that talent? Who would’ve recruited a boy with no true history, no other family, and given him a reason?

“Why would I be spying for Marous?” he asked.

“You wouldn’t,” she murmured, the pieces falling into terrible place. “But when you were a boy, you were working for…”

“Yes,” he said softly.

“For Lindan,” Nore finished, her stomach aching. She felt the tears running down her face as she reached for him, the shock and horror and shame mingling. “I didn’t know,” she said, her breathing uneven. She clasped his face in her hands. “I swear to you, I didn’t know.”

Caspian’s eyes flicked closed. “I know,” he said. “You never understood the decisions I had to make. You’ve never been in a position where you weren’t dealt the winning hand.” He pulled her closer, kissing her forehead, the apex of her cheek, the tip of her nose, her lips. She read the goodbye in every single one of them.

“Then why aren’t you running?” Nore demanded, turning back to him.

Caspian smiled sadly. “Surely you can answer that one on your own,” he said.

And she could. Because—because if Celestine and Caspian had made some sort of deal for Nore’s freedom, she could imagine that her life was forfeit if he ran. He never had the choice to run, not once during this mission—if he had, he knew the cost. It was an odd thing, a terrible realization that in the hours she’d bargained for his death, he had done the exact opposite.

“She will never give you what you want, no matter how much she promises it,” Caspian said, cupping her face in his hands, studying her features like it was the last time he’d ever see them. “And she will never love you, Nore. You may be her blood, but you are not her family.”

She swallowed down the lump in her throat. “So—is that it? You’re just going to… what? Stay here? Leave me to my failure?”

Caspian closed his eyes. Shook his head. He pulled back, then reached for her arm. “Come on, Finch,” he said, pushing her ahead of him up the ramp to the ship.

She glanced over her shoulder, but Caspian’s face was closed off. Nore focused forward—and it was Tern waiting at the top, Tern with a blanket and a length of rope, and she hurried up the last few feet and staggered aboard the ship as he caught her.

“Finch,” Tern said, pulling her in for a quick, close hug. “I didn’t think you’d make it out.”

“I nearly didn’t,” she confessed. Her thoughts were still a whir of everything Caspian had just told her, everything he’d accused her of. She looked at Tern with new eyes, wondering what horrible thing Celestine used against him to keep him close—if there was anything at all, if she wasn’t just searching for ghosts where none remained.

Tern sighed, wrapping the blanket around her. He gave the order to pull the ramp once Caspian was aboard, and then turned his attention to the other man. Two shadows detached from the sailors working on the ship, separating from the rest of the crew.

“This one, Captain?” one asked, nodding to Caspian.

“Tern?” Nore asked.

Tern handed over the length of rope. “This one,” he said. One of the sailors went to Cas and pulled his hands hard behind his back; Caspian only barely winced. He kept his eyes on the floor beneath his boots. He did not fight, as if this was a foregone conclusion.

He knew what returning her had meant. Nore’s stomach dropped, the realization blooming like bile, crawling up her throat.

“Tern, what are you doing?”

Tern glanced at Nore. “I thought you’d be relieved,” he said, “to have him imprisoned again.”

That seed of dread sprouted and grew in Nore’s stomach. She gripped the blanket tighter around herself as she turned to look at Cas. “I…”

The two sailors finished tying up Caspian and stepped back. Cas sighed, his shoulders stooping, and finally raised his gaze to Nore and Tern.

“Kiro,” Caspian said, “I was not expecting to meet again like this—or ever again at all. But, for old time’s sake, well met, Captain Tern.”

Kiro, Nore realized, must’ve been Tern’s real name. She glanced at him, confusion spreading further.