Page 169 of The Thief and the Traitor Bride

“She has to,” Caspian said. “Otherwise… it’s going to get worse. The power is going to burn her out entirely, and she will die.”

Nore sighed, looking into the rain. “I hate that we’re tangled in this mess.”

He pinched her side. “No you don’t,” Caspian said, that too-familiar smirk creeping across his lips. “You love being important, Finch.”

She elbowed him, but not before he could see her smirk.

Nore woke just as Caspian was leaving, resuming his participation in the Viper’s—Kier’s—morning training sessions. They’d proposed their plan to Kier the night before, who’d seemed almost convinced—but reluctantly reminded them they could do nothing without Locke’s cooperation.

Nore sat up, pulling the blankets tighter against her bare skin. Grimsby was curled up on Caspian’s pillow, and Nore absently reached to scratch between his ears. He made a faint yowl and curled up tighter.

“You’re a mean old thing, too,” Nore said. “I daresay you fit right in here.”

The cat stretched, giving Nore access to his belly. Nore ran her fingers through his soft fur and glanced again at the lightening morning.

She dressed in thick trousers and one of Caspian’s shirts, buttoning her coat high against the chill. It was much easier to get to the Ghostwood from here, and no one stopped her on her way. Nore was not naturally an early riser but she was beginning to see the appeal.

She did not know what she expected. Perhaps nothing, or maybe now, she thought she might find the High Lady weeping against the stones. Of course, that was not what she found: Locke sat, as still and lonesome as she had been the very first time Nore had seen her, carved like she was part of the Isle.

“Lindan,” Locke said without turning. Perhaps it was kind of her, to greet Nore without throwing any accusations or vitriol. Or perhaps this hour of steadiness in the morning was what Locke needed to refrain from imploding the entire Idistran power system. “Well met.”

Nore sighed. “I don’t know if I can claim that as my nation anymore.”

“Maybe not,” Locke said. “But the people and places we love do so much to disappoint us, yet that doesn’t always loosen their hold.”

Nore came around the stone altar; she knew, now, that it was a tomb. The High Lady looked tired but otherwise unchanged. Her cool gaze followed Nore.

“Kier says I should listen to you,” Locke said darkly.

It was a start. “Can I sit with you?” Nore asked. “Or will you try to kill me?”

Humor flickered across Locke’s face. “A bold question for someone who came on my invitation, tried to steal from me, and provided information for an assassination plot.”

“I’ve repented.”

“I don’t know if I believe that. Should I?”

Nore bit her lip. “I can see many reasons not to,” she admitted. “But you already know that.”

A pause. “Sit with me.”

It was decisive, stern—and yet, the bands on her heart loosened. It was Locke’s territory. If she still felt Nore untrustworthy, Nore knew she would already be dead.

Nore hoisted herself up and sat facing the sea, drawing a knee to her chest. Locke sat cross-legged, a mug of tea clasped between her hands. Perhaps she had discovered, considering this was her Isle, she could bring her beverages with her when she pleased.

“I nearly died on this altar once,” Locke said after a moment. “Sometimes, I look at it, trying to determine which stains are my blood.”

Nore swallowed hard, forcing herself not to study the darkened patches of stone. “You’ve sacrificed a lot for this place,” she said.

“Everything,” Locke said quietly. “And so many died for me. I don’t know if you know what that’s like, and what responsibility it places on me to keep peace, even if it means doing things I don’t want to.”

“It is a great cost,” Nore agreed. They sat in silence for a moment, the waves below crashing on the coast. “And I can see why you don’t want to drag those you love in further.”

The High Lady shrugged. Nore supposed it was nothing Locke didn’t already know.

“Cleoc and Scaelas,” Nore started. “Would they be willing to protect you if you did choose to marry a Scaelan and it caused upset? If you bore an heir?”

“They would,” Locke said. “That doesn’t mean I want them to. What is that, if not more sacrifice?”