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9:52 Dragon
The Lighthouse
Rook rapped her knuckles on the pantry door to announce herself. She could feel Spite’s presence lurking just beyond, and the thought made her skin crawl. “It’s me,” she said bluntly. “You asked for some time—you good to talk, now?”
“Come in,” was Lucanis’ response, and so Rook did.
She glanced around the cramped quarters, her eyes landing on the cot shoved against the back wall. “You do know there are other rooms you could claim?” she asked by way of greeting. “Ones that are just as defensible and not so cramped.”
Lucanis gave her a tired smile from where he was sitting on his cot. The bags under his eyes put hers to shame. “I’m nearer to the coffee here,” he said.
She knew a deflection when she heard one. Rook decided to drop it, folding her arms and leaning against the wall. She clicked her tongue as she studied Lucanis for a moment.
She was familiar with spirits inhabiting the dead. It was the ones that laid claim to the living that spooked her. The earliest lessons drilled into her by Kataleya, her mage instructor among the Crows, were all about possession and how to avoid it.
Rook rather felt the only fate worse than becoming an abomination was being made Tranquil, though either option sounded like the stuff of nightmares. She didn’t know Lucanis before his capture and imprisonment, so had no frame of reference of what was normal for him. For all she knew, Spite was puppeting his body around convincingly enough to fool his own cousin, but she’d not know herself if the act slipped.
“So the Venatori put a demon in you,” Rook said.
She felt the roiling wave of resentment from the spirit, but refused to flinch, to give any sign of her discomfort.
“Spite,” Lucanis said, nodding. “Yes.” He inclined his head, looking up at Rook. “You did not tell the other Crows about the demon.”
He would be studying her as much as she was studying him. Their cooperation in the Ossuary had been born out of necessity; if not for the elven gods set loose upon the world, she would have had zero compunctions about putting the abomination down and washing her hands of the matter. “So sorry we found your grandson already dead,” she would have told Caterina upon her return.
(So what if he had a reputation for being a mage killer? She didn’t need her magic to be dangerous, and their training as Crows would have been similar enough she could figure out his tricks.)
But she had need of him enough to keep him alive, and so they’d returned to Treviso—only to find the First Talon dead and the Crows thrown into further turmoil. As if Verdant Isle hadn’t been bad enough already.
Rook, as a recently-graduated member of House de Riva with the dubious honour of being Viago’s biggest pain in the ass, had little influence or standing of her own—especially when compared to the grandson of the First Talon. Having blackmail material on the man who might well become Caterina’s successor certainly put a spin on things. And if she’d thought of these things, he would have, too.
Rook just lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “Giving you a bloody nose aside, the demon doesn’t seem too inclined to cause trouble. Yet.”
“Yet,” Lucanis agreed. “But I would have thought a mage would surely know the dangers of working with an abomination.”
Rook spread her hands. “That is what I came down here to talk to you about, funnily enough. How is the nose, anyway?” she added, forcing cordiality into her voice.
“Fine, thank you for asking.” Lucanis glanced away for a moment, his brows drawing together, and Rook felt annoyance ripple from his end of the room.
“Is Spite talking to you now?” she asked, but Lucanis held a hand up, and her jaw snapped shut. Lucanis’ frown deepened, and Rook watched his expression shift from irritation to confusion before he looked up at her.
“He wants to speak with you,” Lucanis said reluctantly. “Still.” He pursed his lips. “It’s why he lashed out earlier—something about you has caught his attention.”
Rook shifted her weight uncomfortably from foot to foot. “Spirits… like me,” she said. “Generally. Sometimes. It could be he just wants to leap from your body into mine to become a proper abomination. Can’t imagine what else Spite would want from me.”
Lucanis considered her for a moment. “Viago spoke of you,” he said, and Rook straightened at the name. “Quite highly, I might add. I remember him boasting when you returned from Nevarra.”
“You don’t need to lay on the flattery,” Rook said. It was a struggle to keep the venom out of her tone. “What do you want?”
“...Would it be possible for you to speak with Spite without me having to relinquish control?” Lucanis asked.
Rook’s every nerve felt stretched taut, ready to snap. “I think so,” she said as she dug through the recesses of her memory to recall her old lessons. Her stomach turned over when she realised what she would have to do. “If I sit next to you, Spite won’t become… aggressive?”
Lucanis hissed and put a hand to his head, but when Rook started forward, he motioned for her to stand down. “He’s… offended by your question,” he replied, his voice strained. “I—no, I’m not going to ask her that! Ask her yourself!”
Rook’s eyebrow crept a little higher. Her fingers curled around the grip of her dagger.
Lucanis looked up at her again. His eyes flickered briefly to the knife at Rook’s hip. “...If you are worried about Spite making any attempts to possess you,” he said, “I can reassure you that he is well and truly bound to me. Believe me, if he could have left already, he would have.”
A moment passed, and Rook’s fingers slowly unclenched. She pushed off from the wall and sat next to Lucanis on his cot. “May I?” she asked, reaching halfway towards his face. Lucanis nodded, closing his eyes, and Rook took his face between her hands. Her fingers pressed carefully against his temples, and she drew in a deep breath, reaching out with delicate tendrils of magic.
“LET ME OUT!” Spite snarled, and it was only thanks to years of conditioning that Rook didn’t startle and let go immediately. “LET ME OUT! OUT, OUT, OUT, OUT—”
Rook jerked her hands away, and Lucanis reached up to wipe away the trickle of blood that ran from his nose.
“So much for that,” he said bitterly.
“Wait,” Rook said. “Let me—let me try again.” Her heart thudded unevenly at the thought. Spite was loud. Insistent. But those few moments of contact had given her a little more insight into the nature of this particular spirit, raging to be free.
She held up her hands again, and after a moment’s hesitation, Lucanis leaned forward once more.
“—OUT OUT OUT—”
“Hey, knock that shit off,” Rook snapped, and Spite fell silent. “There. That wasn’t so difficult, was it?” She could feel Lucanis’ heartbeat throbbing in his temples.
“Let me out,” Spite repeated, quieter and more sullenly this time. “Promised you would. Now keep. Your. Promise.”
“I will,” Rook said softly. With the demon no longer shouting in her head, it was easier to think—and to sense the frustration that churned like a maelstrom beneath her fingertips. “As soon as I figure out how to help you. I’ve never seen anything like this before, though—a spirit forcibly bound to a living being like this. How did the Venatori do it?”
“Don’t. Know,” Spite spat. “Was in the Fade, now here. Cold and damp and dark and cramped.”
“You don’t remember anything?”
“Don’t. Know!”
Rook tensed when she felt Lucanis clench under her touch, but he remained sitting still for her, and she re-focused her attention on Spite. “What sort of spirit were you, before you were forced into this body?”
“Don’t. Know!”
“...You’ve forgotten?” Rook asked softly.
Spite hissed, and the trickle of blood thickened. “Made to forget.”
“I’m sorry,” Rook said, and meant it. She was still spooked by the abomination that sat before her, but with the rage calmed, all she could feel was sullen resentment. It was less like talking to a monstrous entity and more like talking to a tantruming child. “You were torn from your home and forced into becoming something you were never meant to be. But this body belongs to Lucanis. His body, all right? You have to play nice with him, because like it or not, you’re sharing for the time being.”
“You promised!”
“And I’ll keep that promise,” Rook said, her voice low. “If I could have separated you, I would have by now. You can understand that, can’t you?”
Spite grumbled, annoyance reverberating through the connection.
Rook closed her eyes. “Lucanis said you wanted to talk to me,” she said. “Now’s your chance, Spite.”
“You,” Spite said, and Rook’s skin crawled at the sudden interest. “You are. A dreamer. You walk in the Fade.”
“Any mage can do that,” Rook said. “Why are you so interested in me?”
Spite hissed, and Rook felt an overwhelming wave of homesickness crash into her. “Smell like home.”
“What does that mean?” Rook demanded. “The Fade?”
“Smell like home,” Spite repeated. “Rook is home.”
Rook pulled her hands away, folding them tightly in her lap. She felt like she was going to be sick. “Something’s confusing him,” she said to Lucanis when he opened his eyes. “I don’t think he entirely understands what’s going on.”
“That makes two of us,” Lucanis said bitterly. “Who could have guessed blood magic and demons do not mix?”
“Actually, I hear they mix a little too well,” Rook said, and offered Lucanis a slightly crooked grin.
He simply snorted and shook his head, rubbing his temples. “...He’s quieter, now,” Lucanis said after a moment. “Talking to you placated him, for the time being at least.”
“Bit easier to think when there’s not a demon banging on the inner walls of your skull, I’m sure,” Rook said.
“Indeed.” Lucanis was quiet for a moment. “Rook, I fear there might not be a way to separate us. Not without resorting to blood magic.”
Rook cocked her head. A second passed between them.
Lucanis’ eyes narrowed. “You are not considering it.”
Rook stood abruptly. If this became a fight, she didn’t want to start it off in close, cramped quarters. “Walk outside with me?”
“Rook.”
She headed to the door without looking back, though her ears remained pricked for the faintest sound that would give away an attack.
She heard silence behind her, and her hand twitched toward her dagger, but then came the creaking of Lucanis’ cot as he stood, and Rook allowed herself to relax just a fraction.
But only just.
They exited the pantry and took the stairs to the balcony outside the kitchen, which overlooked the greater expanse of the Lighthouse’s sanctuary bubble. They might not have been in the Fade proper, but this demiplane with its floating ruins was just as strange and wondrous to gaze upon.
Rook leaned her forearms on the railing, and Lucanis followed suit.
“Just so we’re clear, here,” Rook said, her voice low, “I tell you this in confidence only because to keep you in the dark would compromise our mission to kill the gods. I don’t tell the Crows about your little passenger, and you—”
“Don’t tell anyone you’re a maleficar,” Lucanis said, his expression darkening. Rook could tell from experience he was considering going for his knife. She tensed, as did he, and they stared one another down.
“The only reason you still live,” Lucanis finally continued, “is because you freed me from that hellhole of a prison. So I will do you the courtesy of listening.”
“Grazie,” Rook said dryly.
So Lucanis was one of those Crows who still believed in honour. (As if there was any to be had among them in the first place.) But that meant his word was good, and she was safe to let her eyes slide away to land on the windows of Neve’s building. Wisps of curiosity were just barely visible behind the sun-drenched glass.
Rook closed her eyes. “Do you know of the elven god Fen’harel, the Dread Wolf?”
“Solas, yes,” Lucanis said, frowning slightly. “I heard when the Inquisitor sent an envoy to the Crows asking their help in hunting him.”
Rook’s eyebrows flew up at this, and she turned to look at Lucanis again. “First I’m hearing about it.”
“This was almost a decade ago,” Lucanis said, and gave Rook a quick glance-over. “If I remember correctly, you would have been one of Viago’s new fledgelings, yes?”
“Surprised he even mentioned me,” Rook remarked. “I was always under the impression I was the biggest pain in his arse.”
“You were,” Lucanis said. He sounded distinctly less amused than Rook. “I doubt he would be pleased to know you’ve been playing with blood magic.”
“Sayeth the abomination,” Rook bit back. Lucanis’ mouth thinned, but he gestured for her to continue. “Solas is in my head, crafting hallucinations.” She glanced away again. “He killed a friend of mine, and now I’m left talking to a ghost only I can see.”
“...I’m sorry,” Lucanis said, and looked like he genuinely meant it. “I take it the… blood magic is meant to counter his.”
Rook nodded curtly and glanced away again. “For whatever it's worth,” she said, “I plan on being careful with this. And it's hardly like I’m going to start in on…” She waved a hand. “...mass sacrifice and all that. My own blood should be all I need to break the connection.”
“And if you do happen to become an abomination,” Lucanis said, “I suppose you could have worse people on hand than myself.”
“Is it true you killed forty Venatori in a single night?” Rook asked curiously.
Lucanis gave her a thin smile. “What you're really asking is if I killed forty mages. I do not think all of them were magisters… but enough.” He inclined his head. “Whether or not I could kill you remains to be seen. I suppose it would be an interesting challenge.”
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” Rook said. She held out a hand to Lucanis and twiddled her fingers. “Truce, then?”
Lucanis grasped her forearm. “For now.”
“Excellent.” Rook squeezed his in return. “Which brings me to my next point.” She let go and hopped up to perch on the railing, letting one leg dangle over the abyss as she reached into her jacket to produce a little metal pipe. She tamped down the bowl and lit it with a spark from her finger, drawing in a long, slow pull. “I’d likewise be willing to look into your little problem with Spite.”
The look Lucanis gave her was one she knew all too well. It was the look of someone who’d long since run out of hope and didn’t know if they dared let themself feel it again. “You think that would be possible?” he asked.
Rook lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “If blood magic is what bound you together, it sounds like the key to separating you, no?”
“Mierda.” Lucanis dragged a hand down his face. “I just think there must be other options we can try, first.”
“If you’ve other ideas, I would love to hear them.” Rook spread her hands expectantly.
Lucanis’ lip curled. “You’re the mage. I just kill them.”
“Well, you not killing me so far is very appreciated,” Rook said, and gave Lucanis a sardonic little smile. “I don’t suppose I get to hear what your secret is?”
“Hah. Not on your life.” Lucanis folded his arms. “...What would you need in order to separate me from Spite?”
Rook grimaced. “Samples of your blood, just for starters.”
Lucanis was silent.
Rook sighed, blowing a cloud of smoke out over the abyss. “Look,” she said, glancing back at Lucanis, “after what you went through in the Ossuary, I don’t think anyone would blame you for being suspicious. I would be, too. I’m putting the offer on the table for… call it an indefinite amount of time.” She inclined her head. “So if you ever change your mind, I’ll give it my best shot.”
“Where would you even start looking into the matter?” Lucanis asked.
Rook considered, clamping the pipe between her teeth. “Rivain,” she said after a moment’s thought. “I know they’ve a tradition of spirit-seers. If their mages routinely let themselves be possessed without fear of becoming abominations…”
“It’s a start,” Lucanis agreed. He gave Rook another appraising look. “You are not what I expected you to be, Jehan de Riva.”
Rook grimaced. “Just Rook, please. I haven’t gone by that name since Viago kicked me out.”
“He sent you on a contract,” Lucanis corrected, and it was only through sheer force of willpower that Rook kept her lip from curling.
“A contract to kill Solas, which will be impossible if he stays stuck in my damned head.” Rook blew out another heavy cloud of smoke. “So really, I’m only risking everything to become a blood mage because of him, so if you want to point fingers, start there.”
To her surprise, Lucanis chuckled, and shook his head. “You do not need to explain yourself further,” he said. “You have already risked everything to save me from the Ossuary, and for that, I owe you a debt.”
Not everything, Rook wanted to say, but held her tongue. There were far worse things than death—but then again, Lucanis would know that all too well.
Lucanis shifted slightly, and then his head twitched. “No,” he hissed. “You already did.”
“Spite making demands again?” Rook asked.
“He keeps insistently saying ‘Home’ over and over,” Lucanis said, and dragged a hand over his face. “...Rook,” he said, looking up at her, “would you perhaps accompany me back to Treviso?”
Rook paused. “You think that will calm Spite down?” she asked dubiously.
Lucanis spread his hands. “Unless you have better suggestions.”
Rook very much did not want to return to Treviso, especially not so soon after they'd just left. But if she said as much, Lucanis would want to know why, and the last thing she wanted was the darling grandson of the First Talon prying into her feelings towards the Crows.
“I know a great place to get coffee,” Lucanis added.
Still, Rook hesitated.
Lucanis inclined his head. “Unless coffee isn't your thing—”
“It is,” Rook said. She emptied the pipe’s bowl over the abyss and slid off the railing, tucking it back into her jacket. “Let's go.”
She strode off in the direction of the eluvian.
Lucanis had to hurry to keep up with her much longer legs. Rook was already quite tall and gangly for an elf, but rarely stood a full head taller than most human men.
It was a little adorable, really. The Demon of Vyrantium always sounded like a much more imposing figure whenever she heard the other Crows speak of his accomplishments.
The man walking beside her was anything but. While Rook didn't doubt Lucanis’ skill, especially after having seen it for herself in the Ossuary, he didn't look particularly dangerous upon first glance, or even second.
She wondered how often his targets underestimated him because of it.
They stepped through the eluvian and emerged in the Cantori Diamond’s upper levels, where only the Crows roosted. Rook’s gaze shifted as she scanned the lounge for Viago or Teia, but for a mercy, neither seemed to be around any more. Probably gone home with each other, she thought. More’s the better. It meant she didn't have to deal with Viago’s vitriol. Again.
Several Crows they passed waved to Lucanis, who nodded in return, but thankfully no one tried to stop them as they slipped outside to make their way along the rooftops, two shadows flitting overhead in the gathering dusk.
Rook laughed breathlessly to herself when they finally alighted on the bank of a canal, the cobbled street lit by the warm glow of glass lamps. It felt good to run, good to let herself thrill in the race over the heads of unsuspecting people below. It was one of the few things she truly enjoyed about Antiva, about Treviso, about being a Crow.
“It's good to be home,” Lucanis said softly, and Rook’s smile faded. Lucanis didn't notice, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply. “So many little details you overlook until you don't realise you missed them. The smells, for instance.”
Rook sniffed. The aromas of coffee and basil hit her nose, sending her mouth watering.
“I did miss the food,” she admitted.
Lucanis inclined his head with a faint smile, and they set off once more along the canal. The sounds of water gently lapping at the walls did little to fill the sudden silence.
Rook wished they could go back to running.
“It looks so much like I remember,” Lucanis said quietly. “But everything has changed. The city feels… different now.”
“The Antaam certainly don't help in that regard,” Rook said darkly, and Lucanis shook his head.
“Between the invasion, and my imprisonment, and now Caterina’s death…” He glanced out over the darkened waters. “It is like coming home to a stranger.”
Rook was silent, but when Lucanis glanced over at her, she cleared her throat. “Hm? Yeah. A stranger.”
They reached the café on the corner of intersecting canals, and Lucanis led Rook to an open table.
“What is your preference?” he asked, and Rook shrugged.
“Something with enough caffeine and sugar to kill me,” she said.
Lucanis chuckled. “Understood.”
Rook sat at the table to hold it while Lucanis disappeared to place their orders. She kept an eye on him, on the barista, on the cups that were passed over the counter.
Viago might be paranoid, but it never hurt to be cautious around another Crow.
Especially after their earlier talk.
When Lucanis sat, he passed Rook a cup, which she lifted to her lips while meeting his gaze.
Any poisons he could hide in coffee, she wouldn't taste even without all the sugar. She carried a handful of antidotes and potions on her belt, and knew where each bottle was by touch. If any symptoms made themselves known, she could likely counter anything he might have slipped her.
The coffee was delicious. The single sip would have to do for now, though, and she reluctantly set it back down on the saucer.
“He seems to be quiet,” Lucanis remarked softly, and Rook inclined her head.
“I’m not sure if Treviso is what did the trick to calm him down,” she said dubiously, “but we’ll take what we can get.”
Lucanis nodded. He drank deeply from his own cup, eyes fluttering shut in appreciation. “I never thought I would taste coffee again,” he said, and gave Rook a rare smile over the rim. “We should stop by the market on our way back. I had a look through your cupboards and was appalled by your lack of—”
“Everything?” Rook interrupted, and Lucanis let out a heavy sigh.
“What were you eating before?”
Rook shrugged. “Whatever we managed to not burn?”
“Mierda.”
“If you have a problem with the cooking, you're welcome to try it yourself,” Rook shot back.
“Gladly,” Lucanis said, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly. “I will have you know that I spent a great deal of time in the kitchens as a boy.”
Rook sat back in her seat. “What—out of boredom, or as a punishment?”
“The former.”
Rook couldn't quite help the eye roll that followed.
“What is that look for?” Lucanis said, an edge creeping into his voice.
“Must’ve been nice, to be grandson of the First Talon,” Rook said, tracing a finger around the rim of her cup.
“It came with its perks,” Lucanis said, pursing his lips. “Why the sudden hostility, Rook? I had not taken you for the jealous type.”
Rook’s nostrils flared. “I’d hardly call it jealousy,” she said, “considering it got you targeted by the Venatori.”
“The eye roll meant something different, then? Please, enlighten me.”
“Fine.” Rook sat forward, folding her arms on the table. “I want to know how soft you are.”
Lucanis’ expression shuttered. “I went through the same training as any other Crow, if that is what you're implying,” he said coolly.
“Huh. I would have expected special treatment from your nonna.”
Lucanis glanced briefly away before levelling his gaze back on Rook. “Only Teia calls her that. Called.”
The tautness in Rook’s shoulders faded somewhat at this. “...Look,” she said, and sat back, “I’m sorry you lost her. She clearly meant a lot to you.”
“Caterina took me in after my parents were killed by a rival house,” Lucanis said, his voice low. “Illario, too. We were the only ones left alive. And now—”
He broke off, glancing away.
“...Viago is the one who found you as a child, is he not?” he asked. “How would you feel if he was taken from you?”
Rook snorted. “At least then I’d finally have him off my back.”
“Rook!”
“He wasn't my grandmother,” Rook said sharply. “He wasn't my father. A mentor, sometimes. And now, my master. If he disappeared, a new one would take his place. I’m no Talon, nor will I ever inherit the title of one. If I hadn't been sent on what was meant to be a suicide mission, I would have been happy to take my contracts, keep my head down, and let you higher-ups kill each other off while the rest of us fight over the scraps.”
Silence fell over the table. Rook tried to keep her heartbeat steady, knowing it would only accelerate any effects of poison if they started—
Oh, to hell with Viago.
Rook snatched up her coffee again and took a long, deep sip. Perfect, overwhelming sweetness to mask the bitterness.
“If you’d stayed, you would have been killed,” Lucanis said at long last, and Rook set her cup down with a heavy clink.
“You think I don't know that?” she asked, and gestured to herself. “There's no place in the Crows for a fresh-faced fuckup.”
“Viago sent you away to protect you—”
“And as you’ve seen for yourself, I don't need protection.”
“From the full might of the Crows in the face of your failure?” Lucanis pointed out, but Rook barked out a laugh.
“Do you really think Viago intended for me to survive a contract on a god? It was as good as a death sentence. Only Varric got killed instead when it should have been me.”
She wrapped her fingers around her cup, trying to chase comfort in the warmth.
“You know Viago better than I do,” she said. “He’d sooner shed a tear over your death, Dellamorte.”
Lucanis reached across the table to lightly touch her wrist. Rook stilled, though every instinct screamed at her to flinch away.
“Varric,” Lucanis said, his voice low, “is not the one who freed me from my year of torture. We Crows are trained to endure it, but you cannot fathom the depths of Venatori depravity. The things I saw in there… what they did to me…”
He drew back. “I thought I would die in that hole. And now, you offer me salvation again, at great risk to yourself. I would not have us be enemies, Rook. Whatever resentment you hold towards Viago, I am not him.”
No, Rook wanted to say. You’re worse.
“He does care for you, you know,” Lucanis added quietly. “In his own way.”
Rook snorted, blowing her curls out of her face before tucking them behind her nicked ear. A permanent reminder of Viago’s lessons. “Biggest pain in his ass, remember?”
Lucanis shook his head. “When I told him about our escape from the Ossuary, do you know what he said? ‘That sounds like Rook.’”
“Practically a compliment, coming from him,” Rook drawled, swirling the contents of her cup. “He must’ve been in a good mood to have you back.”
“Gladder still, I think, to know you were alive,” Lucanis said. “We have lost so many Crows already. Those of us who remain have to stick together, or we are finished.”
Rook put on a pleasantly neutral smile. “Family sticks together,” she echoed. “Right. Tell me, how's Illario been doing?”
Lucanis drank deeply before answering. “Not well,” he said at last. “Caterina’s death has shaken him. He's not acting like himself.”
“He knows more than he's letting on,” Rook said flatly.
Lucanis’ eyes narrowed. “I suggest you consider your next words carefully.”
And there was the family she knew. So quick to stab first and ask questions never. Lucanis could spin it as much as he liked, but you could never let your guard down around the Crows. You never knew who had a grudge. She’d gotten too used to sleeping with one eye open to stop now.
“I’m saying he’s not outside the realm of suspects for Caterina’s death,” Rook said coolly. “Who else knew you were on that ship a year ago? Who else knew when would be the best opportunity to take her out of the picture?”
“Illario is like a brother to me,” Lucanis grit out. “He would never.”
Rook shrugged. “Of course,” she said, tapping her fingers on the table, “I would need more evidence. I just thought you should consider the possibility. Brothers have killed each other for less than the title of First Talon.”
“We are done talking,” Lucanis snapped, and Rook held up her hands in surrender. She reached for her cup and drank deeply, keenly aware of Lucanis’ glare boring into her skull.
They finished their coffee and left in silence. Rook trailed behind Lucanis as he picked his way through the market stalls, her arms folded tightly over her chest. She could feel her heart beating unevenly behind her ribs.
Of course she had to go riling up who would like as not become the next First Talon. She could hear Viago’s chastisement in her ear: “Restraint, angelito.”
It wasn’t until they stepped back through the eluvian and into the Lighthouse that Lucanis spoke again. “Rook.”
She stopped, hefting the basket full of vegetables and flour in her arms. “Si, signore?”
“...Just Lucanis, please,” he said, and Rook inclined her head. “I meant what I said earlier. I would not have us be enemies. But I have already lost Caterina. I am not going to lose Illario, too.”
You damn, blind fool.
Rook held her tongue. She nodded. “I shouldn’t have brought it up. It won’t happen again.”
If he did indeed turn out to be the traitor, there would be plenty of opportunities in the future for her to separate Illario’s head from his shoulders. That it would throw the Crows into further disarray was hardly her problem.
Lucanis, however, was of much bigger concern. Their uneasy truce would only last so long before the both of them would be forced to reckon with the beings in their heads.