Page 45 of The Thief and the Traitor Bride

“The bathtub is a viable option,” Caspian said, “if you’re unwilling to share the bed.”

Nore grimaced. “I am a woman in my thirties, Caspian. Even if I were willing to take that alternative, my back would not agree to it.”

He rolled over, catching her eye. “It’s just sleep, Finch. If you spend the entire trip fleeing to separate rooms or avoiding my presence, the Nestrian will catch on. I may not know the reason for this farce, but you seem keen to keep it up.”

Nore gritted her teeth, but she got into bed, lying stiffly on her back. “Why haven’t you tried to run yet?”

“If I run,” Caspian said patiently, “I won’t get paid.”

Nore wanted to scream. “And that’s all that matters to you? Getting paid?”

“Selfish motivation is wonderful, darling. You should try it sometime.”

“Well,” Nore said, clipped, “I can only hope it’s less than you wanted and more than you’re worth.”

“I did so miss your wit,” Caspian said.

Nore ignored him. She rolled onto her side and closed her eyes, doing her best to forget that he was at her back. She forced herself to mentally catalog the events of the day, the conversations with Gail. Once they were more stable, she would make contact with Celestine to discuss; she had two Nish-made glass spheres through which she could speak to Celestine, but they were expensive, and the process destroyed the glass. She was keen to save them for when she actually had updates. She ran through the rest of her objectives, making them into a mantra that would lull her to sleep.

“Finch,” he said, just as she was on the edge of sleep.

“Hmm?”

“Do you trust Gail?”

Nore sighed, rolling to face Caspian. He mirrored her movement. There was only one window in the room, on the far side, with barely any moonlight coming through, but it didn’t matter. She knew his features all the same, including that worried, pinched furrow between his brows.

“Why are you asking me?” Nore said, feeling every inch between their bodies as a widening chasm. “I don’t even trust you.”

Caspian laughed, the sound cruel. “Rich, coming from you.”

All exhaustion evaporated in the heat of her anger. She was always so quick to emotion with him—it was so frustrating because Nore was usually rather level as a person. “You stole from me.”

“Which time?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Nore said, hating the rough edge to her voice. Hating that he could make her feel something, anything, against her will, even if it was frustration. “How can I trust you, knowing that? Knowing any of it?”

“Don’t trust me, then,” he said, and his voice was level again, as if he’d mastered every emotion he’d ever felt for her and saw them all as beneath him. He rolled away from her, but not before she saw the flicker of hurt that crossed his face.

Nore pressed a hand to her eye, fighting back the headache that threatened. She had the strangest flicker of memory, or maybe a call from a parallel life: how she ached to reach out, to run her fingers down the curve of his spine. The thoughts came, unbidden: what could happen if she crossed the chasm, wrapped her arms around him, sank her teeth into his shoulder, and promised him she hadn’t meant it.

That he was the only stable thing she’d ever known.

But—how deeply she knew that was a mistake. That even this hurt on his part was probably feigned, yet another trap in an attempt to get her to trust him. She could not let him in again, not this time.

before

“Elinore,” Edith said one morning at breakfast, barely looking up from her single egg and two slices of toast, same as every morning. “You turn eighteen next week.”

Nore set down her silverware. “Yes,” she said.

Edith’s shrewd gaze locked on her. “I imagine you remember our bargain. Do you feel confident in securing your own lodgings, or do you need my assistance?”

Nore shifted her hands under the table, wrinkling and unwrinkling her napkin. “I’ve made appropriate arrangements,” she said. “I think I’ve found a room. It’s not much, but it’ll be mine.”

Edith smiled, and Nore was getting more and more accustomed to that odd, incalculable pride from her employer. “That’s good news. Will you need help with your packing?”

“No, ma’am,” Nore said. “I should be able to manage.”