Page 27 of The Thief and the Traitor Bride

“You serve her, don’t you?” Caspian said, sounding almost casual about the whole thing. He settled down lower, drawing a knee to his chest, wrapping an arm around it. He wore gloves now, which was a relief. “You come when she calls. How much is your indenture worth these days, anyway?”

“You know nothing about me,” Nore said. “Not anymore.”

His gaze on her was scorching, tracing from the top of her head to her toes. “I’ve always known you, and I always will. Even the worst parts.”

Nore clenched her jaw, her hands into fists. Every muscle in her tightened—a protection. “And I know the worst of you,” she said. “You’re a thief. A liar. A killer.”

Caspian laughed, his head falling back, exposing the line of his throat. He wore a chain around his neck, disappearing down the front of his shirt. “You bruise me, darling.”

“Because it’s true?” She tried to find the evenness inside of her and failed; all she wanted was to fight him.

He smirked, that insouciance creeping back in. She remembered that same look from her bed on winter mornings as she hurried to get ready for the day, as he convinced her to return into the warmth of his arms.

Nore looked away, forcing the memory back.

“Because you think survival is among my darker qualities. I’m your worst fear, too,” he said, his voice smooth and dark. “You shouldn’t forget that.”

She rolled her eyes, turning on her heel. She would not be able to get anything done here tonight. “Fuck you, Khari,” she said.

“I’m up for it if you are,” Caspian said to her back.

She didn’t bother with a response. Nore stalked out of the room and slammed the door behind her, hating the sound of his laugh as it followed her down the hall.

She made her way to the crew quarters, her anger roiling with every step. She knocked hard on the first mate’s cabin, resolving that she’d go down every door until someone answered—but luckily, it was thrown open by a bleary-eyed man, half-dressed, hair unkempt.

“This isn’t a passenger area,” he said, moving to shut the door.

Nore stuck her foot out, catching it. “Driggs?”

The first mate straightened, looking at her a little more clearly. “How did you—”

“Your captain told me you were looking after my prisoner.”

He leaned back farther, arms crossing over his bare chest. She was using her most intimidating gaze, and it seemed to be working. “Aye, that I am.”

“Clearly not,” Nore said, allowing the anger to shape her tone. A distant part of her realized she was taking this out on someone completely unrelated to her current fury, but by the gods, she hated incompetence. “My prisoner is ill and freezing. Is that what you call looking after?”

Driggs struggled for words, for excuses.

“See to him,” Nore hissed through her teeth. “If he is harmed, it will be on your head.”

She turned on her heel before she could say anything else—she hated this feeling of being out of control, of having so little grip on her own anger.

“You have every right to take him, if you think we’re doing it badly,” the first mate called after her.

“Do your job or hear from your captain,” Nore snapped back at him. She felt her hands clenched to fists in the pockets of her coat, the half-moon indentations of her nails digging into her palms.

Driggs had a point: if she wanted it done right, she should just do it herself. But she needed time—if only a few minutes with Caspian had been enough to infuriate her like this, she needed to prepare. She could not let this happen every day, every hour, for the next few weeks.

She needed to steel herself, and quickly.

Nore resolved to avoid Caspian for now, buy herself some time and sanity. She woke the next day to a restless mind and an even more restless sea, clouds churning on the horizon. By midday, the storm was in full tilt, rocking the little merchant ship over swells that sent Nore’s stomach rolling.

Just after noon, someone knocked on Nore’s door. She opened it to see one of the crew waiting, looking just as green as Nore felt.

“We’re expecting a few days of bad weather,” the sailor said, all in a hurry. “It’s best if you remain in your cabin until instructed otherwise, Ms. Gordon.”

Well, that wouldn’t be difficult—Nore could barely stomach standing with the way the ship was rolling and roiling. “That suits me fine,” she said. “Thank you for the warning.”