The sun had set in warm golds and reds, but the colours barely registered. Starling walked the familiar road to the Dellamorte estate with her hood up, hands in her pockets, expression neutral. Lucanis had invited her again. And this time, she couldn't afford not to go. She'd already pushed it last time, sending that note instead of showing up. She'd felt the shift in them since. Subtle, but there. Viago had smiled, but there'd been a sharpness behind it. Lucanis had watched her a moment too long, eyes shadowed with questions he hadn't yet asked.
So she'd go. She'd smile. She'd make it look like everything was fine. Because it had to be.
They still hadn't found the witness. Some shadowy figure who'd been present the night Linus died. Someone who had seen enough to know Crow blacks and hoods. Someone who might talk. Might identify. Might doom them all. They didn't even agree on what to do when they did find them. The fractures in their little circle had grown sharper over the last few days. What had started as anxious silence had become low-voiced arguments in hidden corners.
Alis was starting to crack. No more hiding it. Her hands trembled when she thought no one was looking, and her smile had frayed around the edges. Starling didn't blame her. They'd all been taught the same thing: if you're caught, you die. If you confess, you die. Mercy was a lie, and the only path to survival was secrecy. Jacek, Vasha, Brin, and Neri were already beyond sympathy. They wanted Alis gone. Quietly, quickly, permanently. They spoke of it like cleaning up a mess. They didn't say murder, but that's what it was.
The rest of them - Cade, Tenna, Ridge, even Ledo - weren't ready to go that far. Not yet. But they were scared. Tense and sleep-deprived. Each day that passed, that line crept closer. Starling could feel it. They were all slipping toward the same cliff. Just at different speeds.
She reached the estate gates, nodded to the guard without breaking stride, and slipped the mask over her face like silk. All charm, mischief and confidence. She was fine. She was Starling.
The steward was already waiting, as if they'd known exactly when she'd arrive. He bowed slightly and motioned for her to follow. She did, past the carved doorways and quiet halls, all the way to the suite where Lucanis and Viago waited. Where the game would begin again. Where she would smile and flirt and pretend the world wasn't bleeding beneath her feet.
The door opened, and the scent of roast duck and spiced wine wrapped around her like a lover's embrace. Rich, warm, comforting, like always. Her stomach, traitorous thing, growled softly. She caught sight of the candied almonds almost instantly, sitting in a little bowl at the corner of the table like they belonged there. Maybe they did. They always were. Her heart tightened in her chest, lips twitching despite herself. Even now, the sight of them made her soften.
When she was a child, barely strong enough to draw a bow, her father would toss her two almonds when she hit dead centre. One if she got close. If she was really good, he'd hide them and make her find them. Or slip them into the pockets of strangers and dare her to get them back without being caught.
She hadn't known then what he was doing. Training her. Honing her. Not for glory or applause, but survival. And now... now she used those lessons in service of the very people who were hunting him.
She pushed the thought down. Deep. If she let herself think of it too long, it would eat her alive.
She stepped fully into the room and saw them, Lucanis and Viago. Both handsome in that infuriating, criminally unfair way. Deadly, too. She'd seen the aftermath. Heard the stories whispered like warnings.
They looked up as she entered, and she felt them both look through her, the way only dangerous men ever did.
Viago smiled first, that slow, warm smile that did too many things to her insides. "There you are."
Before she could respond, he was already crossing the room, already reaching for her with the ease of someone who knew she wouldn't stop him. He guided her toward the table with one hand on her back, the other reaching up. His fingers brushed her cheekbone. Light. Barely there. But still, the tender graze made her freeze.
"Who did this to you, tesora?" His voice low, a dangerous edge to it.
Starling blinked once, then gave him a cheeky, dimpled smile. "Jacek," she said sweetly. "We were sparring."
Viago's expression didn't change much, but it was just enough. A flicker in his eyes. A curve of displeasure at the edge of his mouth.
"Weapons or fists?" Lucanis asked from across the room, already pouring wine into three glasses.
"Both." She shrugged, easing into the seat Viago gestured toward. "Mostly his fists. My fists. The ground. A very unhelpful bench."
Viago raised a brow. "Sounds like a fight, not sparring."
"Oh," Starling murmured, taking one of the almonds and popping it into her mouth. "We were just having a bit of a disagreement about whose elbow belonged in whose face."
Lucanis made a low sound - humour or warning, it was hard to say - and crossed the room to join them, glass in hand.
Starling accepted it with a playful smile. "You've never accidentally punched someone you work with?"
Viago gave her a long look. "Not accidentally."
She laughed, quick and bright, and took a sip of her wine. Maker help her, but she liked them. She liked being here. Even if it was the worst possible place she could be. She had to be careful. Had to play it just right. Smile just enough, flirt just so. Keep them close without letting them get too close. They still didn't know what she was wrapped up in, and if she was lucky, they never would.
But Maker, the way Viago's thumb had lingered on her bruised cheek... The way Lucanis had looked at her just then, quiet and unreadable... The longer she stayed, the harder it was to remember that this was a game. That everything depended on her not losing. And worse - on them not finding out what she was hiding.
Lucanis sat beside her. Viago across. They served her like she was royalty. Asked what she wanted first. Passed the bread with honey. Kept her wine glass full without making her notice it. The conversation drifted toward gentle, meaningless things. They talked about a fight they broke up earlier between two apprentices. Lucanis made a dry comment about how Jaiteh might actually murder someone if they kept pissing in the training sandpit. Viago teased Lucanis about his handwriting. Lucanis threw a grape at him. And all the while, they watched her. Viago's gaze lingered too long. Lucanis's shoulder brushed hers too often. Not enough to be obvious, not enough for most people to notice. But she wasn't most people, and he wasn't just anyone. Neither of them were.
Viago reached across her with quiet grace, his fingers warm as he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. He let his knuckle linger for a moment against the curve of it, catching on the delicate point before withdrawing with the same care he always used when handling something precious.
Too tender. Too careful. It made her stomach knot with the discomfort of not knowing - was this affection or strategy? Had she slipped too far into something real, or were they tightening the trap?
You're being ridiculous she told herself silently, the words biting and sharp.
Still, she offered Viago a soft look, tilting her head just a little like maybe she leaned into his touch. Maybe she liked it. Maybe she didn't mind being between them, warm and soft and safe for a little while longer.
Viago didn't move away. "So," he said casually, "did Jacek and Alis work out their lover's quarrel?"
Starling hummed low in her throat, noncommittal. "Not really. Probably for the best they stay away from each other. Some things just… don't get worked out."
Viago tilted his head slightly, watching her the way a cat watches a dangling thread. "Mm. A shame. Lovers' quarrels are often the best part."
She smirked, because of course he'd say something like that. Lucanis, still beside her, didn't comment, but she could feel the shift in his attention as Viago's voice dropped a note lower.
"It just occurred to me," Viago murmured, "we don't really know much about you."
Her gaze flicked to his, then to Lucanis, who looked every bit as quiet and expectant.
"Sure you do," she said, letting her voice warm with amusement. "I'm charming. Excellent with knives. And surprisingly good at climbing out of windows without being caught."
Viago gave a low chuckle. "All true. But you know what I mean."
She let her head rest back against the headrest, eyes up toward the ceiling, fingers idly tracing invisible lines along the arm rest.
"There's not much to know," she said at last, tone light. "I came to the Crows young. I do my job. I'm good at it. What more is there?"
Lucanis's voice was low, nearly a purr. "History. Family. Dreams."
Starling scoffed softly. "I dream about not getting stabbed in my sleep. Very aspirational."
Neither of them laughed. And she could feel it, their silence stretching out, soft and patient, like they'd decided to wait her out.
Her pulse ticked up just slightly. She smiled again, slow and easy. "There's nothing to dig for, you know. I'm incredibly dull."
Viago reached out again, tracing the curve of her knuckles with a fingertip. She didn't pull away.
"Then tell me something dull," he said smoothly, his eyes too bright, too unreadable. "I've seen you often with Tenna, Cade, and Ridge. Which one of them is your favourite?"
Starling gave a short, amused exhale. "That depends on the day and what we're talking about."
Viago arched a brow, smiling like they were just having fun. "Why?"
She tilted her head at him, matching his tone. "Who's your favourite person in the Crows? Besides Lucanis," she added, before he could answer. "He doesn't count. You're sleeping with him."
Viago gave a soft hum. "So that rules you out then?"
She gave him a flat look. Dry as sun-cracked stone. "Try again."
"I'm not joking," he said, entirely unbothered by her unimpressed expression. "But fine. Teia."
That surprised her enough to blink. "Teia?"
"She's very easy to work with."
Starling huffed a laugh. "That's what you base it on? How easy someone is to work with?"
Viago shrugged a little, leaning back. "What else would it be?"
"I don't know…" She stretched out a leg, picking at a thread on her cuff. "How funny someone is. Or how loyal. Or kind."
Viago's silence stretched again, just like it had before. Not heavy and judging - but watchful. Listening too intently. She wasn't supposed to say things like that. Kindness wasn't a currency they dealt in often. Loyalty was expected but rarely rewarded. And funny? Well, that had always been her shield, not something real. Not something to measure worth by.
Starling shifted her weight, pulling her hand away gently to rub at her eye, careful to avoid the bruise.
"You're a strange thing, tesora," Viago said softly.
She smiled slightly, letting the spark of mischief dance behind her lashes. "I think you're the strange one," she said lightly, tossing it out like a pebble on calm water.
And then the window exploded. A crossbow bolt tore through the glass with a vicious crack, whistled past her ear, and slammed into the back of the chair she'd only just leaned forward from. Splinters burst like shrapnel. For a breathless moment, no one moved. Then Starling did. She got to her feet, staring out through the window. Her blood went cold. Vasha or Jacek. Had to be. No one else would be that brazen, that stupid. And now they knew. Not just that she wasn't where she said she'd be - but who she was with. Lucanis and Viago. If they thought she was slipping, if they thought she'd rat them out...
She breathed out, sharp and quiet, "Fuck."
And then she was off. She didn't think, she moved, sprinting for the balcony doors. The world had narrowed to a single thought - get out - before the consequences of this could catch up to her.
Viago caught her arm. "Don't."
"I have to go," she said, already twisting out of his grip.
Lucanis tried to intercept her at the doorway - quick, precise - but she was smaller, faster, and she knew how they moved. She ducked low, boot finding the edge of a side table to vault herself out onto the balcony like a breath of wind.
"Starling!"
She was already climbing over the rail, already gone. She didn't look back. Didn't see the way Viago surged toward the door. Didn't see the rage in Lucanis's eye. She just ran.
They weren't dressed for the night. That would buy her a few minutes. Time to think, to breathe, to do something before everything tipped over completely. She couldn't let this become a war.
Her boots hit the earth with barely a whisper. She scaled the estate wall with ease, fingers finding old footholds she remembered from the first time she'd snuck out, back when this had all been new and dangerous and thrilling. Now it was just dangerous.
She landed lightly on the other side, already scanning. There - movement. Not the city's usual shuffle of drunks and vendors and guards. No, this was different. Quick. Precise. Cautious but familiar.
Crows.
She narrowed her eyes, breath steady, hand already sliding to the dagger at her side as she followed. Two shapes up ahead, darting from cover to cover, keeping low. Not fleeing- tacitcally relocating.
They were waiting to see what she'd do. And when she took the first step toward them, they split. One vanished left, moving like water over rooftop tiles. The other cut right, heavier-footed, slower in the turn. Starling didn't hesitate. She veered right. Vasha. She knew that gait. Vasha had always been fast in close quarters, brutal with a blade, but she wasn't built for the long chase. Starling was.
The chase wove through the slumbering city like thread through a needle - over a baker's awning, down a side stair, across an empty courtyard. Vasha glanced back once, saw her shadow gaining, and pushed harder. But Starling knew the rhythm of her breath, the way she moved. Knew when her stamina would flag. And it was flagging.
"Vasha!" Starling hissed as she rounded a corner, her voice low, sharp as steel. "Are you insane?"
Vasha didn't answer. Just kept running. They darted through an alley, past a butcher's shop with its shutters half-hung, then vaulted a small wooden fence that Starling cleared in one breathless leap.
She was getting closer now. One more turn. One more sprint. And then she'd get answers. Or Vasha would bleed for them.