While Evie had become a regular fixture in the markets, so had Illario whenever she performed. Nearly every day of the week since he'd first introduced himself, he turned up for her performances, even contributing to her collection pot very generously. He didn't always talk to her afterwards, but when he did, he was always polite, always charming, and always too intense. Whether he knew what they were up to or not, she still couldn't tell. She did turn Hirik's words over in her head. Was this flirting? She had never been flirted with before. Back home everyone knew who she was, so they knew to avoid her. She was the stain on the Theirin name, not worth getting to know.
There was also a large portion of the population that chose to wait for their soulmates and had taken themselves out of the courting pool entirely.
Evie's music lingered even after her fingers stilled on the lute strings and the crowd gave a smattering of applause. Not large, not raucous, but warm. Several faces had returned from previous days, people who now stayed until the very last chord. One woman passed her a plump pear with a quiet "Thank you." A young boy dropped in a single copper and ran off grinning.
And there, again, was Illario.
She hadn't even needed to look for him anymore. His presence stood out, distinct in its stillness. While others shifted and swayed or leaned forward in thought, Illario remained composed and unmoving. Just watching, always watching.
Today he wore deep blue, finely embroidered, the cuffs glinting slightly in the fading light. Another expensive cloak. Another subtle statement of wealth without ostentation. Like everything about him, it was calculated, too polished.
Evie smiled and nodded at a few familiar patrons as they left, then crouched to begin packing her lute and coins. Her hands moved quickly, but she could already feel him moving closer.A shadow lengthened over the edge of her case.
"I'll never tire of hearing you play," came the smooth voice.
Evie looked up, polite and pleasant. "You're kind to say so."
"I mean it," Illario said, tilting his head. "There's something about the way you play. Like you know how to speak to something inside people. You strike it like a string."
She closed the latch of her lute case with a soft click. "Music does that, sometimes. I think it's older than words, in some ways."
"Older, yes. And truer." He smiled, and it was not an unkind smile. Just… too measured. Like he practised it in mirrors. "But it's not only the music. You have presence. It's rare to find someone so young with that kind of gravity."
Evie tried not to stiffen. "You give me too much credit."
"I doubt that," he said easily. "You remind me of someone I once knew. Not in appearance, but in the way you seem… unrooted. Like your feet are on the ground, but part of you is elsewhere."
She smiled, even as her heart tightened. "Poetry suits you, ser. You should write some."
Another voice cut across the space between them. "There you are."
Kieran.
He strode up to them, a book tucked into the crook of his arm. The bookshop he worked in would often let him use the store much like a library. His hair was windblown and his expression unreadable, but his eyes flicked sharply to Illario the moment he saw him.
Evie felt immediate relief at his presence.
"I finished early," Kieran said, brushing a hand down his coat. "Thought I'd come meet you."
"Perfect timing," Evie said quickly, rising and slipping her lute strap over her shoulder. "I'm just packing up."
Illario's gaze lingered on Kieran for a beat too long.
"Ah," he said softly. "I see. Well, I won't intrude."
Kieran arched a brow. "Intrude?"
"I hadn't realised you were—" Illario paused with a faintly amused expression. "Spoken for."
Evie blinked. "What?"
Kieran stared for a moment, then said, very dryly, "Right. Yes. Spoken for. Fiercely territorial, in fact."
"I see," Illario said again and gave a short, courteous bow. "Then I shall leave you to one another. Until next time, little songbird."
He turned with perfect grace and vanished into the thinning crowd, as always, swift, quiet, and clean.
As soon as he was out of earshot, Evie let out a breath.
"Well," Kieran muttered. "That was... something."
"He's been coming almost every day," she said. "Watches the whole performance. Sometimes says something afterward, sometimes not."
"And you think he's onto us?"
"I don't know," she murmured. "Maybe. I mean, Tai and I have been careful, but if the Crows noticed we're charting their movements—"
Kieran cut in, frowning. "Evie. You're a girl with a lute playing pretty songs in a market. Maybe Hirik is right."
She paused. "That's not—you think so?"
He sighed and started walking, motioning for her to follow. "Evie. You've met your own face, yes? Heard your own voice?"
"It still could be something else," she said stubbornly.
"Maybe it is," Kieran said. "But sometimes the obvious answer is the answer."
They rounded a corner together, considering. He glanced at her. "He thought we were lovers. I think he backed off because of that."
Evie made a strangled sound. "Kieran."
"Just saying. If it helps, I didn't correct him."
"Maker's breath," she muttered, but she was laughing softly now, tension starting to uncoil from her spine.
They walked the rest of the way in silence, their steps falling into an easy rhythm. But her eyes kept flicking behind them now and then, just in case.
Because charm or not, admirer or not… Illario was a Crow. And Crows never watched anything without a reason.
-
The Cantori Diamond glittered in the heart of Treviso, a beacon. In the guarded wing above sat Caterina Dellamorte, First Talon, at the head of the table, her clothes immaculate, her gaze unyielding. Her grey hair was pinned high in a coronet of thorns, and when she tapped a ringed finger against the armrest, the room stilled. Even the shadows paused to listen.
"Illario," she said. "How gracious of you to finally arrive."
Illario stepped into the room with a loose smile and an elegant shrug, brushing imaginary lint from his shoulder. "Apologies, Nonna. The market was unusually lively today."
"You missed half the meeting."
"And yet, it still lives." Illario poured himself a drink from the sideboard, his tone unbothered.
Across the table, Teia leaned back in her chair, grinning. "Maybe he was tending to his little songbird. She sings sweet enough to tame even the great peacock."
"I don't know what you mean," Illario replied, swirling the wine.
"Oh please," said Viago, lounging beside her. "You've been to the same square four days in a row, at least. That's more consistency than I've ever seen from you."
"She has a lovely voice," Illario said smoothly. "And I'm a patron of the arts."
Teia snorted. "You're a patron of anything in a dress. At least you'll be well practised when you meet your soulmate."
Even Lucanis, quiet and still in his corner, lifted an eyebrow, a slight edge to his tone. "She must be exceptional to make you forget you were meant to be here."
Illario spread his hands in mock humility. "Guilty. What can I say? She's pretty, her songs are pleasant, and her face stays with you."
"But you haven't bedded her yet?" Teia teased, mouth quirking.
"Not yet," he said, as if discussing a future meal. "There is a boy, possibly a lover. But nothing unassailable."
Caterina's expression did not change. "You have more important things to be doing than chasing skirts, Illario."
"Of course, Nonna. I'm merely enjoying local colour. It doesn't interfere with my work."
Viago chuckled into his cup. "It never does, until it does."
Illario waved it off. "You know me. She'll get a few sweet words and then be free to pine after me in peace."
"And if she's not interested?" Lucanis asked, not unkindly, but with a faint smile.
Illario lifted his glass. "Then it will only be a longer game. And I enjoy the chase."
Caterina finally spoke again, her voice like a honed blade. "Be mindful of what you chase, nipote. Some birds sing sweetly while pecking out your eyes."
"Noted," Illario said, bowing his head with exaggerated deference.
But inside, he dismissed the warning. The girl was charming, certainly—but harmless. A musician. A pretty face with a pretty voice.
His bigger concern was he hadn't even noticed he was being watched by the others. It would pay to be more careful in future.