Page 179 of The Thief and the Traitor Bride

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about,” Nore said, forcing herself into stillness even as Celestine’s nails dug into her skin.

“You made me an oath,” Celestine said.

“Oh, that.” Nore leaned forward. “As I recall, I swore an oath to the crown. And I do not believe that is you.”

Celestine’s expression crumbled. “You didn’t,” she snarled, gripping Nore’s hand harder, trying to pull her in. Behind her, Caspian swore as Celestine gave the signal—

And nothing happened. The moment passed, Celestine holding Nore close, before she looked over her shoulder. Her guards had not moved.

“Ah,” Nore said, withdrawing a letter from the Lindle queen with her free hand. “That’s what I was looking for.”

Celestine released Nore’s wrist, paling as she reached for the letter with one shaking hand. “Elinore,” she repeated, her voice cracking, as if Nore’s name had any power over her.

“You are hereby banished from Lindan in its entirety,” Nore said, leaning back. She had taken the time to memorize this so she could watch Celestine’s face. Caspian was probably sick of the speech—she imagined, if she looked behind her, she would find him mouthing along. “Your land, properties, and accounts are forfeit. You are permitted to send one elected member of your household to settle your affairs. Otherwise, should you set foot on Lindle soil, your life is forfeit, by order of Queen Morenna the Third, Lady of the Tower and Protector of the Realm.”

Celestine turned on the guards—but they barely acknowledged her. It was Celestine’s fault, really, for not arranging for own transport and taking that appointed by the queen; for letting them aboard the Searaven as they voyaged from Nettlepool. Quite interesting that the tallest of them had the same worried eyes as Isla Cross’s first mate, Nicodemus. And even more intriguing that another looked something like Captain Cross’s sailor Easy Blue.

“A shame,” Nore said, sitting back and admiring her nails.

“Elinore,” she said, her voice barely a rasp. “I never meant to harm the High Lady. It’s her volatility, you see; she cannot be allowed to—”

But there was a blade under Celestine’s chin, tip to her throat, pulling her head up. Locke’s arm did not tremble nor waver. Ola fell into place behind the High Lady’s back.

“My volatility is worse than you had heard, I fear,” Locke said. “And my blade sharper, too.”

“So this is it, then,” Celestine said. “You’ll kill me here and throw me in the sea.”

Nore stood, her heart pounding in her chest even as she tried to portray the picture of calm. “I’ve arranged rooms for you in Marous,” she said. It was a kindness Celestine didn’t deserve. “Your former mother-in-law had further inquiries into the death of her son, and I thought you were best positioned to answer them, seeing as you have nowhere else to go. Unless you wish to join us in Idistra and stand trial for treason there?”

“And what?” Celestine said, her face flushing even as she so clearly tried to maintain control. “You’ll kill me on the ship, I suspect.”

“No,” Locke said, her tone turning nonchalant. “I’ve no desire to shed more blood. Trial it is, I think. My allies need an example of my good sense.” She dropped her blade but did not sheath it. “Khari? Do the honors?”

Nore felt Caspian’s sharp breath. Whatever he had expected, it had not been this. She stepped back as he moved forward. Celestine did not flinch as he bound her wrists, but the look she aimed at him spoke more harshly than any words.

He pushed Celestine toward Ola, who caught her easily and started to lead her up the stairs. Locke spared a glance at the two of them, then followed her Hand commander.

Caspian turned to Nore, taking her hand and turning it to see her wrist, inspecting the red marks from Celestine’s grip. He reached for her, then, and Nore realized how his hands were shaking. Nore took them, then brought them to her lips.

“You could have killed her,” she said. “If you really wanted to.”

Caspian let out a breath, then another. He leaned close to kiss her forehead. “I don’t care about her enough for it to weigh on my conscience. Let her stand trial in Idistra and then go running off to Marous. Let her be her own ruin. Let Locke handle it—frankly, she owes me.”

Nore wrapped her arms around him, leaning her cheek against his armor-clad shoulder. “Then let it be so,” she agreed.

epilogue

THE NEW GREAT HALL in Maerin was decked in flowers and ivy, laden with candles. Nore stood at the back, lurking in the shadows of the hall near the last row of benches.

When the ship docked in Maerin’s harbor three months before, bringing them back after weeks with Cas’s family in Nadira, Nore was shocked to find that she was ready for the cold. She had walked through the streets then to see the changes that had come over the Isle. All buildings flew flags with crests on them: some bore the locked rings and blade of the Isle or the hand crest of Scaela. More bore another crest that Nore had seen before: two hands cradling a heart.

The innkeeper noticed her studying it. “The new Lord Commander,” the woman had said. “He’s not noble, so he gets to make his own seal.”

Nore remembered that night, not that long ago: Kier’s hands around the power pulled directly from Locke’s heart. His own blade through his flesh, their blood on the ground. The same crest embroidered on a wedding dress, then imprinted on a seal on his mother’s necklace.

“Fitting,” was all she had said.

Now, as they waited in the hall, she studied those sigils again. She was not fidgeting, not really, but she was not meant to be alone. Cas was running late, and it wasn’t like they lived that far away.