Treviso's Grande Market was always a riot of motion and scent, colour and noise, and Lucanis felt entirely apart from it.
He leaned against a weathered column at the edge of the square, arms folded, watching his cousin with the kind of patience a cat reserves for mice. Illario was supposed to be at a meeting. Instead, here he was, for the tenth day in a row, loitering in the marketplace, drawn like a moth to the flame of one particular street musician.
Lucanis followed his gaze. And there she was.
She sat on the edge of the low stone fountain, legs folded beneath her, lute cradled in her lap like something precious. Her voice floated above the crowd, threading through the din with a haunting clarity. There was something old in the sound. Not her age; she was young, barely more than a girl, but in the weight of it. Like she'd been born remembering songs that hadn't been sung in ages.
Lucanis shifted his stance, arms loosening. The twist in his chest wasn't unfamiliar, but it was... unwelcome.
She finished the song with a quiet final note, and the market applauded. A few coins clinked into her bowl. She smiled, gave a small, graceful bow, and began to pack her things.
Illario was already moving.
Lucanis didn't bother to stop him; this was inevitable. Illario, with his easy charm and careless hands. Illario, who couldn't help but chase after anything beautiful.
She straightened just as his cousin approached, and the expression on her face shifted, still pleasant, but guarded. Polite. Lucanis couldn't hear what they said, but the girl tilted her head, offered a practised smile, and subtly adjusted the strap of her lute between them. Distance. Deterrence. She was very good at keeping it polite and subtle.
Illario leaned in and said something, probably clever, probably smug. She laughed softly, but her eyes were already looking for an escape. With a final nod, she stepped back and was gone, melting into the crowd before Illario could find his footing.
Lucanis raised a brow and let out a breath through his nose, amused.
"Well, well," he muttered. "Didn't see that coming."
Illario stood there a moment longer, looking slightly baffled. Lucanis chuckled under his breath and turned his gaze away, but his thoughts lingered. On the girl. On her voice. On the strange ache she'd left behind in his chest.
He flexed his left hand. He could the name inked on his wrist, black, clean, and unmistakable. He frowned.
It wasn't right, being drawn to someone else. The mark was supposed to mean something. It always had. Others may be content to ignore it, and for a time he had been as well, in his younger years. But he'd grown into something of a romantic. He'd come to long for that connection.
He exhaled, long and quiet. Just a street musician. Just a pretty girl with a pretty song. Illario was still staring after her.
Lucanis gave it a few long, indulgent moments before approaching. He moved like a shadow beside him, lips twitching.
"You know," Lucanis drawled, "it's almost impressive. All the charm, all the wit, all the beautifully practised lines… and she still walked away."
Illario didn't look at him. "She's shy."
"She's not interested," Lucanis corrected with a grin. "Or perhaps she just has excellent taste."
That earned a glance. Illario straightened his coat and rolled his shoulders like he could shake the sting of it off. "She'll come around."
"Oh, of course," Lucanis said solemnly. "How many times have I heard that before? Let me think. There was the glassblower's daughter in Antiva City. The sea captain's wife in Rialto—"
"That one doesn't count," Illario interrupted. "She lied about being married."
"And there was that Tevinter spy in Minrathous. You were so certain she was just 'playing hard to get' until she actually tried to stab you."
Illario smirked. "She was playing hard to get. And I still maintain the night was worth the scar."
Lucanis let out a laugh and shook his head. "You're incorrigible."
"And you're jealous."
Lucanis snorted. "Yes, wildly. I spend every night sobbing into my pillow, wondering how I'll ever compete with your stunning record of failed seductions."
That earned a sharp laugh from Illario, though the irritation was still tucked just beneath it. Lucanis grinned, entirely unrepentant.
"She's different," he said at last. "I'll figure her out."
Lucanis's smile faded slightly, more thoughtful now. "Maybe don't try so hard to 'figure her out.' Maybe just let her be. You don't exactly have the best track record when it comes to complicated women."
Illario's brows rose. "You're calling her complicated?"
Lucanis shrugged, voice cool. "She's got eyes that say 'thank you' and posture that says 'touch me and lose a hand.' Complicated seems fair."
They both fell silent as the midday bells began to toll. Illario cursed under his breath.
"We're late," Lucanis said.
"You were late," Illario shot back. "I was on time. Then I was delayed by a fascinating encounter."
"Your fascination is going to get us killed one of these days."
"Not today," Illario said, already striding toward the Cantori Diamond.
Lucanis followed, tugging his hood up as the wind shifted. "Well. Let's hope Nonna's in a forgiving mood."
Illario snorted. "Caterina Dellamorte? Forgiving? That would be a first."
Lucanis said nothing. But he was already bracing himself. Being late to a meeting with the First Talon was like walking into a lion's den with a bleeding wound. And he doubted their grandmother would appreciate the excuse: "Sorry we're late; one of us got rejected."
Still—Lucanis couldn't help but glance back once at the square as they turned the corner.
The girl was gone.
But the sound of her voice still lingered in his memory like perfume. And he still didn't know why it bothered him so much.
-
The front door creaked as Evie stepped in, boots light on the worn floorboards. She blinked at the mess of parchment and ink-stained fingers before her.
"You started without me?" she said, brows lifted in mock betrayal.
Tai didn't even look up. "Thought you'd gotten kidnapped by your admirer."
"Was halfway through a rescue mission," Hirik added, tossing her a grin. "Swords drawn and everything."
"Don't worry," Kieran said dryly. "Tai said he'd distract Illario by making him fall in love with him."
Evie rolled her eyes and dropped into her seat. "You're all hilarious. What are we doing?"
"Taking down the Crows," Tai said, far too casually for the weight of the words.
"We were considering it," Kieran corrected, scribbling a quick note in the margin of a torn sheet.
"We were absolutely planning it," Hirik said. "The point is: we're not going after Caterina. Not directly."
"Fair. This is one of those snakes whose heads would just grow back," Evie sighed and dropped her satchel onto the nearest chair, and her lute down with much more care.
"We're not dismantling a woman," Kieran said, sliding her one of the pages. "We're dismantling an empire."
"It's a shame Father doesn't keep a diary. 'How to Cripple an Assassin Guild in Ten Easy Steps,'" Tai said.
"I'm sure if he did, it'd be mostly drawings of himself," Hirik said dryly. "Or naked drawings of Aunt Shae."
Three horrified faces snapped to his.
"They absolutely seem the type," Hirik insisted.
"Hate everything about the turn this conversation took," Tai said. "Back to work. It runs on three things. Clients. Contracts. Fear."
"Break any one of those and the others wobble," Hirik said.
"But if we break all of them…" Kieran trailed off.
"Then the whole thing collapses," Evie finished softly, reaching over and stealing one of Hirik's biscuits. "So where do we start?"
"Not the contracts," Tai said. "They'll kill to protect those. But the clients? They might be a weakness."
"Some of them aren't nobles or kings," Hirik added. "Some are merchants, smugglers, or bored rich people with too much coin and not enough patience."
Evie's eyes narrowed. "So we make them regret dealing with the Crows."
"Expose them, if we can," Kieran said. "Or fake it. Forge a contract, leak it to the wrong person, and create tension."
"We don't even have to prove anything," Tai said. "We just have to make the idea dangerous."
"If the powerful think someone's going to find out they hired a Crow… they might stop."
"Fear against fear," Hirik said with a shrug. "Old trick. Spies use it all the time."
Kieran nodded. "Second—undermine their network. Runners, messengers, safehouses. Find ways to make their work harder and riskier."
"Block messages. Delay deliveries. Make them miss kills and ruin their reputation," Evie said, warming to it.
"Ruin enough well-timed contracts, and suddenly they're not the most reliable killers in Thedas anymore," Tai added.
"Is anyone else feeling extremely brilliant right now?" Hirik asked, gesturing vaguely with his cup.
"Or extremely doomed," Kieran muttered. "We need to be careful. If they figure out what we're doing…"
"They won't," Tai said. "Because we'll be smart, precise, and unpredictable."
Evie looked around at the others, her heart tight but steady. "We do it slow. We do it right. Just take the legs out from under them, inch by inch."
Kieran met her eyes and gave a quiet, determined nod. "We're not just taking the Crows down. We're making sure they don't grow back."
Hirik raised his cup of too-cold tea. "To the slow, deliberate murder of a system built on murder."
Evie lifted her biscuit in a toast. "And to doing it before they realise four stupids with a grudge are trying to undo it."