The morning sun hit the training yard at a sharp angle, casting long shadows and turning the stone beneath their boots warm. Starling rolled her shoulders, a smirk curling at the edge of her mouth as she eyed the trio facing her. Cade was grinning already, weight balanced easily on the balls of his feet. Tenna looked determined, her braids tied back, brow furrowed in concentration, and Ridge, as ever, was graceful and dangerous, eyes alert beneath his fall of mahogany hair.
It was supposed to be a friendly spar. All against all. But the moment Tenna lunged at Ridge, and Cade tried to come at her from behind, Starling ducked and spun with a fluid grace, like water slipping through fingers. She didn't strike - not hard, anyway. She didn't need to.
Ridge overreached, extending a little too far on a feint, and she popped up beside him, fingers flicking his forehead with a quick, dry tap.
"Focus," she sang as he blinked, startled.
Tenna tried to catch her in the distraction, but Starling rolled beneath the blow and came up behind her, tugging gently at one of her earlobes.
"Unfair!" Tenna barked, laughing despite herself.
Cade nearly tripped trying to flank her while laughing too hard.
She moved among them like she wasn't quite bound to the ground, never stopping long enough to be caught, always slipping just out of reach. Her boots barely made a sound. Her arms, lean and quick, darted in for a nose boop here, a forehead flick there, like she was doling out small humiliations instead of bruises. She could fight. They all knew that. She'd proven herself time and again. But she didn't enjoy pain - dishing it out or taking it - and if she could win without it, so much the better.
Cade attempted a sweep at her knees; she leapt lightly over it and tapped his cheek with her fingers on the way down.
"Oh come on," he groaned, swiping at her. "Are you made of mist or something?"
Starling only grinned, sidestepping Tenna's next jab with a dancer's ease.
"I've been accused of worse."
They laughed, all of them, even Ridge, who took sparring far too seriously most days. There was sweat on her brow, and her heart was pumping, but in the good way. The warm way. The kind of rush that reminded her why she still loved this part of her work - the movement, the games, the teasing. This was what Zevran had taught her. Not how to kill. How to move, how to read a room, how to dance through danger like it was part of the rhythm.
This was the soft part of her, the buried part. But every now and then it broke the surface.
She sprang backwards, out of reach of all three, and bounced lightly on the balls of her feet.
"Try again," she said, mischievous and bright. "Maybe this time one of you will almost land a hit."
--
The stack of contracts was dwindling, though the air still carried the sharp scent of ink and warmed parchment. Viago leaned back in his chair, idly spinning a stylus between two fingers while Teia and Jaiteh debated who to assign the minor Rialto clean-up to. He barely listened, until the laughter rose, bright and unguarded, from below.
He wasn't the only one whose attention snapped. Lucanis stilled beside him, and even Teia glanced up, brows arching. Laughter in the training yard wasn't exactly common, not the real kind. Not the joyful kind.
They all stepped out onto the balcony, the shift in air was slightly cooler, touched with the briny edge of the sea. Below, four Crows moved in a tangle - three with weapons in hand, one with nothing but her sharp smile and quicker reflexes.
Viago's mouth curled.
Starling slipped through the others like a stream diverted around rocks. She flicked Ridge's ear, ducked under Tenna's jab, tapped Cade's nose. Her golden hair bounced with her movements, cheeks flushed, mouth curved in delight. Around the yard, a few others had paused their drills to watch, caught by the rare sight of someone who looked like she was having fun.
Jaiteh stood to Viago's left, expression unreadable. "Moves around them like water," the older handler noted, voice rough with age and approval rarely given.
"She just got back from a contract, didn't she?" Teia asked, squinting down at the yard.
"A couple of days ago," Jaiteh confirmed. "Clean. Fast. She's already been paid."
Teia didn't hesitate. "Put her on the Verenne contract."
Jaiteh gave a thoughtful hum, then hesitated. "She works better on her own. She's… unorthodox at times. It grates on some of the older ones. Especially when it works."
"She doesn't need to finish it," Teia said simply. "Just get everything in place for the rest. Get in, gather, prepare. Leave the knife work to someone who enjoys it."
Viago tilted his head, still watching Starling as she twisted around Tenna again and ruffled Cade's hair, the gesture impossibly light for someone who'd slit a man's throat a few nights ago.
Lucanis hadn't spoken, but Viago could feel it - the quiet hum of tension beneath his stillness. That particular Dellamorte burn that meant he was thinking something dangerous and trying very hard not to say it out loud.
"She reminds me of someone," Jaiteh murmured, voice thoughtful.
Viago turned slightly, catching the flicker in the old handler's eyes as he watched Starling flick Cade's forehead and dart out of reach like smoke.
"Who?" Teia asked.
Jaiteh shook his head. "Can't place it."
Lucanis's eyes narrowed slightly. "Then it doesn't matter."
But Viago found himself looking again. Really looking. Trying to see whatever it was Jaiteh thought he saw.
She just looked like Starling. Light and sharp, flickering through the others with a grace most blades didn't have. She was laughing again, genuine and rare. There was a kind of softness in the edges of her mischief. She didn't look like someone who carried a dagger in her boot and a body count in her ledger.
She didn't look like someone who let them do the things they'd done to her in the bathhouse.
He could feel Lucanis watching too. Not Jaiteh's ghost - her. The way she moved, loose and unburdened, with no edge to her. She wasn't trying to impress anyone. She wasn't trying anything. Just existing, as if the world wasn't made of razors.
Jaiteh made a note beside her name on the docket.
"Don't put her on Verenne," Lucanis said flatly.
Teia looked over. "Why?"
"That's a week away, maybe more. Out of the city, low communication." Lucanis didn't glance up from the parchment. "You'll lose eyes on her."
Viago added, more easily, "You need someone for Verenne who can bluff her way through a merchant court. Starling's a blade, not a coin purse."
"She can bluff," Teia argued.
"Yes," Viago allowed. "But not politely."
Lucanis leaned against the balcony railing again, watching Starling pin Cade's sleeve to Tenna's belt with a quick knot before darting away. "Put her on something here. Close. She just got back, no reason to send her out again so soon."
Teia raised a brow. "So we're protecting her now?"
"No," Lucanis said coolly. "We're managing resources." But Viago could hear the lie in it.
He rolled the stylus between his fingers again. "Give her something domestic. House job. Quick. Something that doesn't take her far from the Hall." He smiled faintly. Or the bathhouse.
Teia snorted. Jaiteh gave a long-suffering sigh but crossed out Verenne beside Starling's name.
Below them, Starling finally drew a blade - not to strike, but to lift Cade's dangling sleeve free of Tenna's belt. She tossed it over his shoulder with a smug little smirk and turned to face Ridge, loose-limbed and utterly unbothered.
Viago watched her for one more breath. Then turned away.
"Keep her close," he said softly, mostly to himself. "She's better that way."