Caterina's study was warm, low-lit by a scattering of oil lamps and the chandelier above. Lucanis stood near the hearth, one hand braced against the mantle, the other toying absently with the silver ring on his thumb.
He'd come straight here after following Evie, after confirming what he'd suspected.
Caterina sat in her favourite chair by the window, legs elegantly crossed, a half-finished glass of red cradled between long fingers. She was watching him, as she often did, like a grandmother, like a predator, like both.
"Well?" she prompted at last, voice low and smooth.
He hesitated, then forced the words out. "It's her."
Caterina's brow arched. "You're certain?"
"I am." He flexed his jaw. "I felt it. There's no mistaking it now."
"And?" Caterina asked, her voice gentle now.
He swallowed hard, the memories still fresh: the way she'd spotted him in the tavern, the flicker of panic in those big green eyes, the flawless cover she'd slid into a heartbeat later. The way she scanned for exits between songs. The way she didn't look at him again.
"I followed her home."
Caterina's lips twitched, the hint of amusement there. "Of course you did."
He dragged a hand through his hair, jaw tight. "It wasn't – it was late. She's… she lives on the edge of the Drowned District. In a run-down hovel. Half the roofs along that street have collapsed. I needed to be sure she was safe. And when she gets home…" He hesitated, the words grating out of him like gravel. "She lives with three men."
Caterina's brow lifted higher. "Three?"
"An elf. A dwarf. And a human boy. Barely more than children, all of them. I saw them through the window. They – she looked... happy." He glanced down at the fire, voice low. "But I felt… something. When I saw it. Not just the bond. I-"
"Jealousy," Caterina supplied mildly.
He gave her a withering look.
"You wouldn't be the first Dellamorte man to scowl at a rival before the bond is sealed," she murmured, sipping her wine.
"It's not that. I don't even… I've barely touched her. Haven't spoken her real name aloud. And yet she runs. She lied to me. At first, I thought it was fear. But she runs. Lies. Hides it."
Caterina's amusement faded.
Lucanis turned to face her fully, his mask cracking at the edges. "I don't understand it. You raised me on stories of soulbonds, of the sacred weight of it. You told me the old ways, the prayers. It's in my blood. How can she…? Why would she…?"
For a moment, even Caterina had no easy answer. The fire popped, casting shifting light across her face. She sighed, setting her glass down.
"You forget, nipote, not everyone was raised as we were. Not everyone reveres what we do." Her voice gentled. "You don't know her story. What marks she bears. What lies she's been told."
"Or who told them."
"Yes." A knowing look passed between them.
He ran a hand over his mouth. "I don't even know if she'll stay in Treviso now. I don't want to take her by force."
"I know." Caterina rose, crossing the room to pour another glass of wine. "But you may not have a choice. Treviso's not a safe city for anyone, much less a girl with your name on her skin. And if you noticed her, others will too."
A knock at the door drew both their attention.
"Enter," Caterina called.
Illario strolled in, his usual smirk in place, though it faltered as he registered the tension in the room. "I was told you wanted to see me, Nonna."
"Later," Caterina said, waving a hand. "Lucanis was just-"
Lucanis cleared his throat. "Actually. Illario." He stepped forward, voice steady but gentler than it might have been an hour ago. "About the girl in the market. Evie."
Illario blinked. "What about her?"
"She's mine." Lucanis let the words hang there, watching understanding dawn on his cousin's face.
Illario's brows shot up. "Wait, you mean your…?" He gestured vaguely toward his own wrist, incredulous. "Maker's breath."
"Yes."
Illario's expression shifted, some of the usual cocky bluster giving way to something closer to respect and a little chagrin.
"I didn't know," Illario said quickly. "I swear it, cousin. Had I any inkling, I'd have—" He raised both hands. "I wasn't even making progress. Girl's like ice. Turns me down at every turn."
"I'm not angry," Lucanis said quietly. "You couldn't have known. But now you do, and I need you to leave her be."
Illario sobered, nodding.
Caterina smiled faintly into her wine. Illario glanced between them, then with an awkward shrug, ducked out of the room. When the door closed, Lucanis leaned against the mantel again, the ache in his chest felt no less sharp.
"I waited... so long," he murmured. "And now… it's like trying to grasp mist."
Caterina crossed to him, placing a hand on his shoulder, the very rare softness in her touch grounding him.
"You'll find a way," she said. "We always do."
But Lucanis didn't answer immediately. His gaze lingered on the firelight dancing against the stone, jaw flexing as he fought a knot of words at the back of his throat. When he spoke again, his voice was rougher.
"She's so young."
Caterina's brow furrowed, watching him carefully.
"I mean it, nonna," he went on. "I saw her tonight… laughing with those boys like any other girl her age should. She can't be more than eighteen or nineteen. And I'm—" He let out a humourless breath. "I've bloodied my hands for twenty years. She should be chasing songs and foolishness. Not… me."
Caterina's expression softened, the edge of her sharp poise blunting just a little.
"Lucanis," she murmured, "soulmarks don't follow the neat, polite lines of years and titles. They don't ask whether one is ready or whether it seems fair." She squeezed his shoulder gently. "It isn't about age. It's about the bond."
Lucanis exhaled, a weight in his chest easing by a degree. It wasn't much, but her words helped a little.
-
The door to their little rented flat creaked open, and Evie slipped inside, bolting it behind her. The scent of old wood and bread hung in the air. She leaned back against the door, eyes closed, heart still beating a little too fast.
"Evie?" Tai's voice came from the table where they'd been clustered over a map, scraps of parchment and a few stolen Crow reports scattered like so many dead leaves.
"I'm fine," she answered quickly, opening her eyes. The three boys looked up at her - Tai leaning back in his chair with that faintly reckless grin of his, Kieran frowning like his mother might appear in the doorway any moment, and Hirik, sprawled comfortably with a mug in hand, watching with curious, steady eyes.
"What happened?" Kieran demanded, rising. "Did he show?"
Evie nodded, moving to the table. "He was there. Front and centre. I saw him the moment I stepped onto the stage."
Tai's grin faded. "And?"
"And… he knows." She let out a breath, sinking into the chair beside him. "I saw it in his face. There's no hiding it now. He told me I can't outrun it."
Silence settled for a beat, the crackle of the hearth filling it.
"Then we leave," Kieran said, sharp and certain. "We may not have done what we came to do, but we got in a few good cuts. We can head for Nevarra or back to Orlais. Plenty of places we can lay low until—"
"No." Tai and Evie uttered at the same time, voices soft but firm.
Evie met Kieran's gaze. "I'm not running."
"You should," Kieran snapped, frustration breaking through. "Maker's breath, Evie, you don't get it. This isn't just about some Crow with a passing interest. You're his soulmate."
The word hung in the air like a struck chord.
Evie's stomach twisted, and Tai shifted in his seat, his easy grin gone, replaced with something far harder. Hirik's brow rose, the dwarf suddenly more alert, and Evie saw the flicker of calculation behind his gaze.
"Evie." Kieran leaned forward, his voice low and tight. "You think I don't know how seriously they take soulmarks? How their families are about it? They don't treat it like some romantic ballad you sing. They claim people. Possess them. You think he's just going to let you go now?"
She swallowed hard, because she did know. Zevran's stories, the old Antivan songs, the warnings buried between Alistair's gentle smiles and Zevran's darker ones. If he was sure, if he was certain…
"It's not his choice," she whispered, but it sounded more like a prayer than anything else.
"It won't matter," Kieran snapped, and Tai cut him a warning look, but Kieran ignored it. "And if he finds out who you really are, what you've done here… you think he'll just stand aside? Walk away from that?"
"He might," Tai offered, not sounding entirely convinced. "He's not a fool. And if he cared so much, why didn't he drag her off already?"
"Maybe because he's trying to figure out how to deal with it without the Crows finding out, or maybe he thinks he can convince you," Kieran said darkly. "Either way—his eyes are on you now. Every day. Every step."
"And so what?" Evie asked, sitting up straighter. "We've made dents. If we leave now, they'll just patch them up. Forget we existed. We've been at this too long to turn tail because of one man."
"Not just one man," Kieran bit out. "A Dellamorte."
The room went very still.
"Even if he's not after you for what you've done, he will be now, because of what you are. And you won't be able to hide forever. Every job, every contact, every plan we make - if you stay, you're risking all of us."
Tai's hand came down flat on the table. "Then we don't get sloppy," he said. "We move smarter. No patterns. New meeting points, new jobs, new routines. We knew this was dangerous the second we stepped foot in Treviso. Nobody gets to back out now because it's getting hard."
Kieran opened his mouth, then closed it again, jaw tight.
Evie blew out a breath and rubbed her face with her hands. "I'm worried too, alright? I'm not blind. I feel it, that pull, the bond. But I'm not leaving until we finish what we came here to do. We can get Zevran's mark lifted."
Hirik leaned back in his chair with a grin. "Besides, it wouldn't be any fun if it wasn't a little dangerous."
Tai snorted, and even Kieran managed a reluctant, weary smile.
Evie reached for the map on the table and started clearing the scraps. "New plan then. No more marketplaces. I'll find private jobs, taverns where word doesn't travel fast, houses where he can't just walk in."
"I don't like it," Kieran muttered, but there was no heat behind it now.
"Noted," Evie said with a crooked smile, reaching out to squeeze her brother's hand. "I'm not getting caught, Kieran."
"You better not," he grumbled, but didn't pull away.