Evie's heart was still racing by the time she turned onto the crooked lane just on the edge of the Drowned District, her lute slung over one shoulder and her pulse like thunder in her ears. She didn't know if he'd followed. That was the problem.
Lucanis Dellamorte didn't strike her as the sort of man you saw unless he wanted to be seen.
She let herself into their little loft.
"You're late," Kieran said, frowning.
"I was singing," she said, brushing past him. "Hard to leave a crowd when they're throwing silver."
"They weren't throwing silver," Tai snorted with a grin. "Maybe copper, if you're lucky."
She shot him a look for that, tugging on his hair as she joined them in the kitchen-slash-war-room - a scuffed table covered in maps, pinned notes, wax seals. Kieran was leaning over the mess, frowning at a string of connected names, his dark brows pulled tight. Tai sat sideways in a chair, peeling an orange.
Evie dropped her lute carefully by the corner and slid into her seat. Her hands were still trembling, just a little. She hoped they didn't notice.
"What did I miss?" She asked, keeping her tone light.
Kieran didn't look up. "Three more drop boxes vanished or moved. We're thinking they're actually starting to suspect someone's working against them."
Tai shrugged. "Which, you know, was bound to happen. Doesn't mean they know it's us."
Kieran's eyes narrowed on her for a moment. "Are you all right?"
Evie swallowed. Her voice didn't want to cooperate, but she found it anyway and forced a smile. "I'm fine."
"Bullshit," Tai said flatly, actually taking a moment to look at her. "You've got that look. The one you get right before you start bleeding or when you're trying not to cry and pretend you're fine."
"I'm not bleeding. Or crying."
"Doesn't mean you're fine."
Evie sighed. "Illario was in the market again."
"Ugh, when will he take a hint?" Tai groaned.
"He brought a friend this time."
That made all three of them go still.
"Who?" Hirik asked.
Evie hesitated. "Lucanis."
Dead silence. Kieran straightened in his seat, his eyes narrowing. Tai's jaw tightened. Hirik's jaw dropped a little, worry clear on his face.
"Shit," Tai said. "You're sure?"
"Positive." She rubbed a hand over her face. "Illario introduced us. I-" she swallowed hard, "I told him my name was Evelyn."
"You what?" Kieran's voice sharpened.
"I panicked, alright? It slipped out. I didn't think-"
"But you lied to his face," Tai finished, scrubbing a hand through his golden hair. "Which means if he's half the Crow they say he is, he noticed."
"I don't know if he did. Maybe he didn't. Maybe it was fine. Maybe it was fast enough that it didn't even register."
The silence in the room said none of them believed that.
"Even if he didn't," Kieran muttered, glancing at the map, "no more singing there. It's not safe."
Evie opened her mouth to argue, but the look on their faces stopped her. All three of them were worried, protective.
And damn it, part of her wanted to be stubborn, to keep playing, to keep earning coin and gathering rumours between songs. But another part of her, the part still feeling the phantom weight of Lucanis's gaze, knew better.
She swallowed hard and nodded. "Alright. I'll find somewhere else."
"Good," Tai said, clapping her shoulder. "We'll scout some of the smaller taverns on the north side tomorrow."
Evie managed a smile for him. But inside, the unease lingered. Because whether Lucanis suspected or not, whether he knew now or would soon, she felt it. A line had been crossed, a thread tugged loose.
And she had no idea how long she had before the whole thing unravelled.
-
Lucanis wasn't one for patterns. Not the kind Illario chased, anyway, the flirtations, the fancies, the attempts to snare a girl with pretty words and promises. Lucanis mocked him for it often enough.
And yet, for three days now, Lucanis had found his steps winding through the Grande Market. Always around the same time. Always with some paper-thin excuse about business, or oversight, or keeping an eye on a particularly troublesome merchant. But she wasn't there. Not once. No song on the wind, no quick flicker of dark blonde hair, no sharp glint of cleverness in a too-bright smile.
Gone.
And it gnawed at him. He stood by the fountain now where she'd played, empty save for a pair of squabbling buskers. He left the market before noon, turning his steps not toward the Diamond but to the high-walled estate. The Dellamorte villa, almost as old as Antiva itself, a fortress in marble and stone. He slipped through the gates without a word, the guards nodding him through, and made his way to Caterina's study.
The door was open. Caterina sat at her writing desk, quill in hand, her hair a storm of silver pinned high, her face as sharp as any blade Lucanis had ever held. She didn't look up when he entered.
"I hear you've been haunting the marketplace," she said mildly, scratching a signature onto parchment.
Lucanis shut the door behind him. "Word travels."
"In this house? Always." She finished her letter, set the quill aside, and finally met his gaze. "I assume this isn't about Illario's latest romantic tragedy."
"No." He crossed the room, leaning a hand against the back of a chair. "But it is about the girl."
Caterina arched a brow.
"Evie," he said. "Or Evelyn, if I choose to believe her lie."
"Ah." Caterina folded her hands atop the desk. "The bard."
"I think she's mine."
The words hung in the room between them, heavy and sacred. Caterina's expression didn't change, but something in the air did. The subtle shift of expectation, of ancient obligation.
"You think," she echoed.
"I haven't seen her mark," Lucanis admitted. "But there was… something. The first time I saw her. And when she spoke to me, lied to me, I knew it."
"You knew it," Caterina repeated, a faint smile touching her lips. "You always did have an inconvenient instinct for these things."
"I went back. Three days now. She hasn't returned. Not once. A girl who sang there every day for months vanishes the moment I speak to her."
Caterina tilted her head, studying him. "And yet you've told no one."
"No." He straightened. "I came to you first."
Because in this family, in this business, the word 'soulbond' was not spoken lightly, not claimed without certainty. And certainly not in public.
Caterina's gaze softened, just a fraction. She gestured to the chair across from her. "Sit."
Lucanis did.
"You still have no proof," she said. "The girl may have lied. Or she may not have. She may have reason to fear you, or she may be lying for reasons other than you think."
"I can feel it," Lucanis said quietly.
"I don't doubt you." Caterina tapped a fingertip against her knuckles. "But you must understand-if she's hiding, there's a reason. And not necessarily the one you imagine. She may fear the Crows. She may fear you. Or she may fear the bond itself."
Lucanis frowned. "Why would anyone fear a soulmark?"
"You were raised to revere it," Caterina said. "To see it as sacred. Not everyone is so fortunate. To some, it is a curse, a chain. A thing that demands more than it gives. You forget not all are free to love where their name lands."
Lucanis thought of the tremor in her throat when she'd lied. The way she'd fled. The way she hadn't returned.
"And if she is mine?"
Caterina met his gaze. "Then you find her. You confirm it. And you listen to why she ran before you decide what comes next." She rose from her chair, coming to rest a hand on his shoulder. "If she's still in Treviso, we'll find her. Quietly. No orders, no contracts. This is family business now."
Lucanis let out a long breath, the knot in his chest easing, if only a little.
"Yes, Nonna."
Caterina squeezed his shoulder once, then returned to her desk as Lucanis made to leave. "Good. And Lucanis…"
He paused at the door.
"You might want to call Illario off; he sees the girl as a challenge now."