Page 32 of The Thief and the Traitor Bride

Nore rolled her eyes. “What is your accent, then?”

A pause. Nore looked up to see some tight, closely guarded emotion cross the boy’s face. “Idistran,” he said a beat too late.

Nore was not a fool. She knew the Idistran nations were in the middle of a brutal, bloody war, with a failing magic system and no sign of resolution in sight.

“Oh,” she said quietly.

They walked in silence for a few minutes before he said, “And you?”

“Me?”

“Your accent. It’s not Nettle.”

“No,” she said softly. “I’m from a town near the capital. I’m here for work.”

He glanced at her, calculating. “Work? You can’t be much younger than me—fifteen?”

“Sixteen,” she said primly. “I could be older than you, you know. It’s not nice to assume.”

That got a smile out of him. “You may be many years my senior,” he agreed. “But it looks like we are the same age, in fact.”

“Indeed,” Nore said, turning her nose up—but she could only hold the position for so long, and then they were both snorting into laughter, and Nore couldn’t even be certain why.

He slowed, and it took her a moment to realize they were almost at the harbor front.

“This is me,” he said. They stopped in front of a pub called the Gleaming Swine, and the boy leaned his shoulder against the sturdy brick wall. “What’s your name?” he asked, scanning the street for an empty carriage to hail.

“Elinore,” she said. But that wasn’t quite right—it didn’t truly fit. She folded her arms over her chest. “Nore. Just Nore.”

He tucked his bag more securely over his shoulder. “I’m Caspian Khari, but everyone calls me Cas.”

“Cas,” Nore said. She held out her hand. He gripped it in his, the strength in his hand impossible to ignore. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“And you as well.” He jerked his chin to the pub behind him. “I’m here most weeknights, after dark, if you ever need a safe port of call on your way home.”

Nore smiled thinly. I will not take a lover. I will not accept distractions. I will not soil my reputation.

No. No, she did not think she would need to visit here again.

“Thanks for the offer,” she said.

Except.

Except the next time one of their clients took Nore and Edith to the theater, Nore couldn’t keep her gaze from searching for, then finding, a certain dancer in the ensemble.

Except the next time she ran a parcel for Celestine to the theater, she found herself lingering in the downstairs hall, trying to catch one of the resident students—and failing.

Except every time she walked through the harbor, she found herself hesitating as she passed the Gleaming Swine, then glancing behind the bar—disappointed by blond tresses or auburn locks.

Except Nore had done so well looking after Miller & Sons in Edith’s absence that, two months later, Edith took another meeting, leaving Nore on her own for a full week.

Nore didn’t even realize exactly what she was doing that first night until her feet carried her to the familiar pub. She stepped in carefully, expecting nothing more—or at least telling herself she was expecting nothing more. But there he was, leaning against the wall, polishing glasses behind the bar, a genuine smile splitting his face as he listened to one of the patrons.

Nore’s heart threatened to beat out of her chest.

She made her way across the pub slowly, then leaned on a spare bit of the bar. “Well, well, well,” she heard. Before she could ask for one, Cas plunked a full cider down in front of her. “I wasn’t sure I’d see you again.”

Nore looked up at Cas through her eyelashes, a move one of Arlowe’s servant girls had taught her, but felt rather foolish all the same. She decided, in that moment, to be bold. “Are you busy tonight?”