Page 178 of The Thief and the Traitor Bride

I have a proposal for you—not just as I am your own blood, but because I have done fine work for you for nearly two decades. The least I ask is that you read what I have written, and think on it seriously.

I shall await your answer.

Letter from Nore Gordon to an unknown recipient, 1636 UCE

thirty-eight

NORE WOULD BE FULLY satisfied if she never stepped foot in the northern territories again. But it was neutral ground, and by the gods, neutrality was what she needed most.

She sat at a table, straight and serene as she could manage, her hands folded in front of her. If Celestine was not on the other side of this, Nore thought she would be proud of this arrangement: they were in a cellar, the owner of the tavern above paid off handsomely and away for the weekend, their own people staffing the bar. There was one entrance to the cellar in front of her, and another behind her, plus one more exit to the root cellar just behind her left foot—concealed, but there. The Lochan honor guard at her back was armed and ready, weapons not drawn but armored hands to hilts in case they were needed. Nore had never needed a guard before, but she couldn’t deny how much safer she felt with the steel at her back.

Celestine and her own guard arrived five minutes past the hour—a trick to make Nore nervous, but she had been expecting it. She did not flinch as her aunt came down the stairs, cloaked in blue wool dark as the night sky. She did not remove her coat or gloves when she sat at the table across from Nore. She’d brought four armored guards—probably borrowed from the queen for this little mission.

“This is disappointing, Elinore,” Celestine said, her blue eyes cool as she took in the way Nore wore her hair loose around her shoulders and her new garments, warmer and less fitted in the Idistran winter style. “I had hoped, when you wrote for me to come… Well. I suppose it doesn’t matter.”

“You had hoped I would apologize,” Nore said, switching to common Idistran, eying up the royal guard. She hoped Celestine would take the bait and think that whatever Nore had to say, it was not fit for the Lindle to hear.

Celestine leaned forward, reaching across the table. Nore did not flinch when she laid her hand over Nore’s, the leather dead and cold against Nore’s skin. “I had hoped,” she said in Idistran, following Nore’s lead, “that you, my dearest favorite, would come home.”

Nore didn’t need to look to feel Caspian’s eyes boring into the back of her head. She suspected he was growing to hate her plans—in part because they usually put Nore in some sort of danger.

Nore pulled her hand back a fraction, just enough to be out of Celestine’s grasp. “I have come to speak my terms,” she said.

Any warmth left Celestine’s features. “You have no power, Finch. You have nothing to bargain with.”

Nore did not bend. “You will recall whatever warrants you have for Caspian’s and my arrests and withdraw your interests from Miller & Sons trading, now under my chief clerk’s direction. Any intimidation on her will cease.”

The corner of Celestine’s mouth flickered into a smirk—it looked almost like she was disappointed, like she had expected so much more from Nore and did not know she still had the capacity for Nore to let her down.

“Surely you know,” Celestine said, sitting back in her chair, “you will never be able to enter Lindan again, no matter what I do or don’t recall. You will be killed the second you reach my port.”

Nore shrugged. She had suspected as much—but that had been a risk she’d been willing to take since the second she broke Caspian free. Maybe even before that.

“If that’s what makes you feel safe, so be it. But you will cease your interference in Idistran politics, or else you will find yourself called to report before the United Idistran Council for treason and conspiracy to maim, kill, or injure a High Sovereign.”

Celestine only blinked at her. This was a blunt weapon—this was not the delicate web of secrecy they usually wielded. Not against enemies or friends, and certainly not against one another. Behind Celestine, her guard shifted uneasily; Nore heard an answering whisper of metal over her left shoulder.

“That would require me to set foot in Idistra,” Celestine said, “which I do not intend to do.”

“No,” Nore said, considering. “I doubt you have much reason to visit.” She feigned dismay, as if she hadn’t foreseen Celestine would dig her heels in. She wanted Celestine to underestimate her.

“Surely you don’t think you can best me, Elinore,” Celestine said, her laugh cold and hard. “And surely you know—none of it was against you. I don’t see why you’ve taken offense.”

“So you wouldn’t confess to it?” Nore asked, imperious. “You didn’t meddle in Idistran politics? You didn’t call for Locke’s death? You didn’t set up alternative avenues for her demise, should she not take your bait?”

“Elinore,” Celestine said, reaching forward again to grasp Nore’s hand, as if she had misunderstood. “You put it so… brutally. Locke is nothing to you. I don’t see why it matters what happens to her and hers if it keeps you safe. And I will cede to your demands on Caspian Khari, if that’s what you really want—but you must know well enough that the High Lady’s decisions have made enemies. I wouldn’t be the first to stage an assassination attempt, and I won’t be the last.” Celestine leaned forward. “And if you join her court, you must know that it is just an invitation for others—all you’re doing is putting your head and Caspian’s on the chopping block with the tyrant queen and her viper.”

“Who else is conspiring against her?” Nore said, letting a note of arrogance slip into her voice. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Caspian’s hand move—it was a motion they had agreed to beforehand if she was pushing too far. To advise her of caution. The dark in the cellar seemed to grow dimmer, and Nore wished she had brought someone with power over the northern system down with them, too, if only to keep the upper hand.

“Who isn’t?” Celestine said, that wheedling tone creeping in. Back when she was younger, Nore always took it for affection. “Nestria will move within the month, I’m certain, to retrieve Mr. Borrel from the fate you so cruelly left him to. And if you think we’re the only ones meddling… Well, Marous and Luthar have interests in stabilizing her power. Surely you must see the risk if she is permitted to rule. The High Lady is volatile and cruel. I’m warning you as much as I’m advising you, Finch—her power is not enough to save you when they turn on her in earnest.”

“Just like you turned on me?” Nore asked. She nodded to the royal guard. “You and I both know you don’t intend for me to leave this room alive.”

Celestine smiled softly, her grip tightening on Nore’s hand, holding it in place. “Oh, my sweet niece. I so wish you had learned.”

Nore cocked her head, then pulled free the correspondence she had in a docket in front of her. “But that’s why I’ve taken the liberty of writing our dear royal cousin, Queen Morenna. I thought she may be interested to know what you’ve been doing with some of her resources—I thought, with her current peace and the stability of Lindan, she would like to be aware of a dramatic change in system you were planning.”

Celestine’s smile didn’t falter, but Nore knew her aunt well enough to see the tightening around her eyes, the way her gaze turned cautious. “Now, Elinore,” she said, her grip tightening on Nore’s hand. “There was no need for that. I thought we had an understanding.”