The morning sun had crept quietly past the curtains, spilling a soft gold light across the sheets. Starling lay between them, one bare leg slung over Lucanis's, her arm stretched over Viago's chest. Her body was a warm line between theirs, the sheets twisted low around her hips. Lucanis shifted slightly, careful not to disturb her too much, though the movement earned a drowsy sound from her - a sigh, something between amusement and complaint.
"Eight, papá," she murmured sleepily, the words muffled, the tone light and teasing. Almost a whine. "You liar…"
Lucanis froze, eyes fixed on her face. She was still asleep. Dreaming. Her lips parted slightly, lashes fanned against her cheeks, her brow soft in that rare, defenceless way sleep allowed.
Eight, papá.
He let the words roll over in his mind, catalogued the phrase. Dreaming of being a child again. Someone lying to her about something, but it sounded playful. Her father.
He studied her, his fingers barely grazing the small of her back. He'd never asked much about her life before the Crows, and she'd never offered. It was the kind of silence people only kept for things that mattered. Lucanis knew how that felt. He and Illario had been raised by Caterina after their parents had been killed - orphans, both of them, their parents dead and distant enough in memory that grief had become a hollow echo. They had grown up amid blades and secrets, traded laughter like weapons, learned to survive and excel.
Starling still had something. A voice in her dreams, a tone warm and familiar. Had she been sold? Rescued? Bartered away in desperation? The Crows did all of those things.
His jaw tightened slightly. He hadn't asked. Not because he didn't want to know, but because if he asked, she might pull back. Shut him out more than she already did. So instead, he watched her. The edge of a smile ghosted across his mouth. Her hair was a mess, a golden tangle across the pillow and his chest. Her bare back rose and fell with slow, even breaths. Even in sleep, she had the look of someone ready to vanish. One gust of wind and she'd be gone.
But she was here now. With them. That was something. He leaned in, brushed the backs of his fingers gently across her shoulder, then let his hand fall back to the sheets. She'd bolt if he tried to hold her too tightly. So he wouldn't. Not yet. He'd just stay still. Let the morning stretch long and quiet. Let her sleep, dreaming of better times. And maybe one day, she'd let him close enough to see them too.
That thought barely had time to settle before it was shattered by a heavy, rapid pounding on the bedroom door. Starling stirred between them with a groggy grunt as she rolled over just as Viago's brow furrowed in irritation. Then the door burst open without a hint of decorum.
"Illario," Lucanis snapped, already rising onto one elbow.
The other man looked grim - until he spotted Starling, half-draped across the sheets, golden hair tousled, her shoulders bare. His serious expression cracked into a slow, delighted grin.
Lucanis moved before his brain fully registered it, yanking the sheet higher to shield her now visible chest from view, the motion sharp and instinctive. "What the fuck, Illario?"
"Emergency meeting." Illario's grin didn't fade. "One of the artefacts turned up in Antiva City. At auction."
Viago let out a low curse behind Lucanis, but neither he nor Lucanis made any move to rise. Not while Illario was standing there, eyes still dancing like this was the best damn joke he'd seen in weeks.
Starling didn't say anything, but Lucanis could feel the way her body had gone taut beside him, her mortification a living thing. She didn't blush or stammer; she never did. But her jaw had clenched slightly, and she wouldn't look at any of them, pulling the sheet tighter around herself without speaking.
Lucanis's hand snapped to the side, pointing at the door. "Out."
Illario laughed, the bastard. He laughed and left - but not before deliberately leaving the door wide open behind him. Lucanis rose with a hiss of frustration, stalking across the room and slamming it shut. His hand lingered on the wood a moment longer than it needed to, breathing deep through his nose. Maker's fucking mercy, Illario had a gift for theatrics and no sense of timing.
Behind him, he heard the rustle of sheets, movement, and cloth. Starling was getting dressed quickly and efficiently, like she did everything. The glimpse of vulnerability she'd shown in sleep was gone, tucked away behind the same quiet, casual mask.
Viago rolled onto his side, still half in bed. "No need to rush out, tesora. Sleep. We'll return soon enough."
Starling's hand stilled for half a second as she tugged on her boots. "That would be weird," she murmured. "I should get to the Hall anyway."
Lucanis leaned his shoulder against the doorframe, watching her gather her things with that same neat efficiency she always had - quick, quiet, unbothered. Except he knew her well enough by now to catch the faint tension in her spine, the way her movements weren't quite as smooth as she wanted them to be.
"You're allowed to be here when we aren't," he said mildly.
She didn't look up. "I'm sure the First Talon would love that…"
The dryness in her tone was pitch-perfect, and it made the corner of his mouth twitch. Maker, she was quick. Quick enough to turn the entire estate into a battlefield if she ever felt cornered.
Lucanis shrugged one shoulder, amused. "The estate's big enough you'd never run into Nonna."
That earned him a proper look. Her head jerked up, brows arching high. "Nonna?" she echoed, like she couldn't quite believe he'd said it.
He held her gaze, slow smile spreading across his face. "What, did you think we all addressed her with a full title and bowed before breakfast?"
Her lips parted, then pressed tight as if she were holding back a laugh. Her eyes were gleaming now. "You call her nonna?"
"Only when she lets me live," he said. "Which, so far, is most days."
That did it. Her face cracked into a half-smothered grin, a laugh slipping out before she could stop it - quiet and delighted, like it had surprised her. Her hand came up, brushing her hair back like she needed the motion to re-centre herself. He savoured it. That expression, unguarded and genuine, was rare. But it was hers, and he was learning how to draw it out. Slowly. Carefully. Like taming a wild thing.
She turned toward Viago, who was still stretched out across the bed, watching her dress with open appreciation.
"Do you call her nonna too?" she asked, a spark of mischief lighting her eyes.
Viago gave a short laugh. "No. I like having my head still attached to my neck. She's not my grandmother."
Starling bit her lip, amused, clearly trying not to smile. "I dare you."
Viago's chuckle deepened, warm and low. "If you want me dead, at least do it yourself."
Her quiet laugh slipped out before she could catch it - light and sudden and utterly alive. Lucanis found himself watching her more closely than he meant to. The way she moved. The way she spoke. How easily she bounced between cautious and teasing. She was always dancing between masks, slipping through fingers like smoke unless someone caught her deliberately.
She turned her back to them, gathering up her hair and twisting it into a bun with practised fingers, trying to control the wild golden mess of it. "I'll just… climb the wall out," she said, heading toward the balcony doors.
Lucanis pushed off the wall. "Starling, you're being ridiculous."
She paused, hand on the latch. "I'm being careful." She looked over her shoulder, gaze sharp and unbothered. "See you later."
And then she was gone, slipping out onto the balcony like a whisper of wind, vanishing over the edge without another word.
Lucanis sighed, jaw tight, and moved to the doors, pushing them open far enough to glance down - not that he could see her anymore. Too fast, too practised. Like she'd been doing it her whole life. He stepped back and closed them gently, locking the latch with a faint click.
Behind him, Viago spoke lazily. "It's impressive, really. The way she scales walls, steals hearts, and runs before either of us can really pin her down."
Lucanis didn't answer at first. Just stood there, staring at the place where she'd disappeared.
"She'll stop running eventually," he murmured.
Viago hummed from the bed. "You sure?"
Lucanis turned, dark amusement flickering across his face. "No. But if she doesn't… we'll just have to catch her."
--
The room was colder than it should have been. Not physically - though the stone walls of the Hall never held heat - but in the way Caterina sat at the head of the table, expression sharp as a dagger's edge. She wore black, as always, with that gilded crow brooch gleaming like a warning. Around her, the others had gathered: Teia, still as a carved idol; Illario, lounging in a chair that wasn't his like he'd been born in it; Wren, fingers steepled in quiet calculation; Jaiteh, already bristling with opinions he hadn't yet voiced.
Lucanis took a seat beside Viago, their usual silent understanding needing no words. He caught Caterina's nod of acknowledgement and returned it, though she didn't wait long.
"One of the artefacts has turned up," she said, her voice clipped. "Antiva City. Private auction."
Viago's brow lifted. "Already?"
Wren gave a humourless smile. "We were never dealing with amateurs."
"Illario." Caterina's gaze snapped toward him. "You're going to the city. Recover it. Quietly. Find out where it came from."
Illario pushed up with a lazy grin, but Lucanis saw the flicker of real interest behind it. "Of course, nonna. Want me to slit throats or just smile charmingly until someone hands it over?"
"Use your judgement," she said flatly.
That smile sharpened. "Excellent."
Lucanis didn't smile. His thoughts were already turning - auction meant movement. Movement meant trail. Trails meant-
"And we've found a witness," Caterina added. The room stilled. "Man lives near the manor. Claims he saw four people that night. Four of them in black. Hoods up. No faces, no voices, but he saw enough. Too many people moving at once. It wasn't a lone job."
Teia folded her hands. "We suspected as much."
Wren nodded. "Elihu had help. Internal."
Lucanis's jaw ticked. "Do we have the witness?"
"Under guard," Jaiteh answered. "He won't speak to just anyone. Wants protection. Bargaining."
Viago leaned back, arms folded. "And the other items?"
"Gone," said Caterina. "The chest was delivered and vanished. We're assuming it's been split. If one piece surfaced, the others might too."
Lucanis glanced toward her. "You think we're bleeding from the inside."
"I know we are," Caterina said. "And I want names."
A long silence followed.
"I want every Crow accounted for," she continued. "Where they were that night. Who assigned them. Who they were seen with. If they sneezed, I want to know which gods they thanked for it."
Viago gave a faint snort but didn't speak.
Lucanis finally did. "What about the missing Handler?"
"Still gone," Teia said. "But not for much longer. We'll find the hole he crawled into."
Caterina's eyes swept the room, sharp as glass. "If I find anyone knew about this and didn't speak…"
She didn't need to finish the sentence.
Lucanis didn't blink. He simply inclined his head. "We'll find them."
Caterina's gaze held his for a moment longer, sharp and unreadable. Then she gave a single nod and stood. The movement was fluid, decisive - the conversation was over. She adjusted the cuffs of her coat with deliberate precision and looked to the rest of the room.
"I want the Hall assembled," she said. "Every rank. Every name. I will speak to them myself."
Viago raised a brow. "You expecting a confession?"
"I'm expecting a reaction," Caterina said coolly. "And if someone has a guilty conscience, I want to see how it trembles in front of me."
She turned to Teia. "Start spreading the word. Quietly. No alarm. I want them gathered, not scattered."
Teia nodded and swept from the room without a word, silent and swift as a blade.
"Wren, Jaiteh, divide your people. We don't need a crowd; we need ears. Scatter throughout the Hall. If someone twitches wrong, I want it catalogued before they can blink."
The two handlers rose, already murmuring between themselves as they slipped out.
"Illario," Caterina said without looking at him, "You still here?"
"Unfortunately," Illario replied, hands tucked behind his head as he leaned back in his chair. "Shall I linger to charm any secrets out of the furniture?"
She didn't even dignify that with a response. "Get to Antiva City. Now."
Illario stood with a sweeping bow. "As you command, First Talon."
He threw Lucanis a wink as he passed, Lucanis did not return it. When they were alone - just him, Caterina, and Viago - Lucanis finally spoke again, low and measured.
"You think someone will break under a public stare?"
"I don't need them to break," Caterina said. "I just need one of them to flinch."
Lucanis nodded. "And if they don't?"
She smiled faintly, with the patience of someone who had crushed a thousand lies before breakfast.
"Then we press." She turned to go but paused in the doorway. "Be in the mess hall before I arrive. I want you both visible."
Lucanis inclined his head again. "Of course."
She swept out, leaving only silence behind.
Viago exhaled beside him, the sound edged with tension. "I don't like it."
Lucanis stood slowly, adjusting his gloves. "You're not supposed to. We're hunting ghosts in our own house." He paused. "And someone is going to start screaming before long."
He could feel it - this taut pressure like a storm pressing against the skin. Someone had slipped. Someone had stolen. Someone had killed a man under the First Talon's protection and then fed a chest of artefacts into the world like kindling tossed into fire.
Lucanis rolled his shoulders, exhaled, and headed for the door. Caterina would light the match. He and Viago would be watching for the first flicker of flame.